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light-yaers · 3 years

Text

No Saints: Chapter One

This content is explicit and is 18+

Warnings: Graphic sexual content, violence, implied effects of PTSD, death and explicit language.

Read on Ao3 here | Fic Masterpost

A/N: Hey everyone! So, after some consideration, I’ve also decided to post each No Saints chapter on individual Tumblr posts, as well as Ao3. I know some people like reading things on Tumblr and it must just seem easier if there are actual chapters uploaded to here as well. I’ll be posting them all over the next few days and then we’ll be all caught up!

This also means that I can now have a TAG LIST, so if you’d like to be notified for when Chapter Nine comes out, then please tell me and I’ll tag you when I update next.

Once again please excuse any small spelling or grammar mistakes. No beta we die like men.

Word Count - 7.3k

Chapter One

Working as a mechanic on Nevarro didn’t often gift you the visual of friendly faces, and that was no different with the Mandalorian—he never showed his face. You wouldn’t know his smile even if he decided to wake up one day without slotting Beskar all over his body.

But you knew his stance, the broadness of his shoulders, his preference for short range blasters with the safety close enough for his index finger to reach before firing at will. You didn’t really know people on Nevarro, but you knew their weapon of choice.

It was knowledge that had ended up being valuable, both to your survival, and to that of the Mandalorian.

“I’ll pay you for this information,” He offered bluntly. He never begged, nor did he show his true emotions within his modulated voice very often. The only vague emotion you’d seen him give off was anger—seething and insatiable— the first time he’d ever approached you for a repair.

“What good will this information give you?” You asked, genuinely. “I don’t know their names, this is hunter country. No one ever gives away their identity,”

“A weapon needs someone doing the firing,” He replied simply.

You agreed to his terms, partly from the initial fear that he would harm you, think you to be working against the Guild, but also from the generous sum he was willing to give you for every piece of information you passed onto him.

And thus, began a sort-of partnership that you’d never expected.

You were no saint. You knew the damage done by the goods you willingly sold to trained killers, assassins, Guild members. You saw the bodies dragged from their ships to the Guild, you saw the bounties that went out, kicking and screaming and spitting at their captors—

You saw the blood and dirt and flakes of flesh with every weapon upgrade or repair, but now, you didn’t bat an eye. It was business, it was your livelihood, and it was good money, thanks this this agreement with the Mandalorian that you’d made a while back.

Mando arrived back on Nevarro every few weeks. His condition was always subject to review; sometimes he flowed through your doors, ready for a quick exchange; other times, he took his time with it, sitting opposite you as you went through the recent repair logs, discussing the types of people that came through your doors.

Over the months, however, he always ended up sticking around for longer periods of time. Whether it was from earlier exhaustion, or the normalcy of having a conversation that didn’t end in bloodshed, you didn’t mind. He was the only constant in your life, splitting up your weeks and months when, before, honest interaction had basically been at zero.

“Are you not worried?” He asked one evening. It was late, and your shop was technically closed. You’d awoken to the subtle clicks of your entrance being lockpicked, hoisting yourself out of bed in nothing but your nightwear and grabbing the blaster you kept by your pillow.

You’d rushed to the shop front, aiming your blaster right at his chrome covered head. He’d raised his hands immediately, not once going for his own weapon. The feeling in the pit of your stomach as you lowered your weapon hadn’t been one of anxiety, but of warmth—he trusted you enough not to grab his weapon, not to even incline that he was going to shoot you.

“Worried about what?” You replied, flicking through the logbook.

“A bounty escaping, knowing that you shared this information,” You stopped flicking through the pages, freezing slightly where you sat opposite him. You sensed his sudden unease, deciding to look up directly into his visor.

“Tell me this, Mando,” You began. “What’s my name?”

He looked at you blankly, but you liked to imagine what facial expression he pulled beneath his helmet. In this moment, you imagined he was almost panicking, trying desperately to think back at what your name could be. It’d been over six months, yet names were never properly discussed. His silence proved that he’d just realised this.

“See? You don’t know it. My face is somewhat known here, sure, but my name? I try not to share it as much as you try not to show your face,” You sent him a raised brow smirk. Innately, you felt you had a responsibility to come across stronger than you looked, which is why you shoved down those subtle flickers of anxiety that arose from his question.

Sure, you had those doubts, anyone would. But living on Nevarro, doing what you did, it was an element of the job that you simply had to expect. You suspected Mando also knew that feeling well.

“You’re single-handedly keeping me in business, Mando,” You chuffed, almost sadly, but kept up an unbothered attitude. “I wasn’t going to turn this down and all these months down the line, no matter the danger, wouldn’t change that.” You ended, and you could have sworn you heard him breathe out, almost as if he was relieved that you knew these conditions from the beginning.

You kept flicking through the logbook, until you finally stumbled across a repair. “Here it is,” You perked up, shuffling yourself round so Mando could see the book over your shoulder. Your index finger grazed the page, just underneath the line he was looking for. “Repaired his blaster pistol last month. He didn’t look like a hunter, more like a scared blurrg, from what I can recall,”

“Young? Old?” Mando questioned.

“On the young side, definitely. Looked more like a runaway than anything else,” You added, feeling a strange pang of guilt in your chest. Usually, you divulged the weapon information of other hunters gone rogue, wanted by the Guild; assassins and thieves, or whatever other dirt washed up on Nevarro and in your shop.

This, however—you remembered him. He was young, he was scared, shaking like a newly born calf when he’d bumbled into your shop.

“That fits the bill,” Mando stated, before rising from his seat. You followed suit, making your way back round your front work desk and slotting the logbook beneath it. You tried to keep your expression blunt when you turned back to him, but you couldn’t help the wave of overthinking that landed in your brain.

You stared at him, leaning against the desk until your shoulders rose to cover your neck. You couldn’t stop yourself from letting out a sigh, but evidently that was enough for you to get the Mandalorian’s attention.

“What?” He spoke harshly, in the same old modulated boom you were used to hearing. You forced yourself to stay still, trying desperately to find his eyes beneath the abyss of his dark visor, but of course it was no use.

“Don’t break into my shop next time,” You diverted your emotions. “Just knock if it’s after hours,”

Mando nodded once, the moonlight gleaming off the chrome that surrounded his face for just a second, before disappearing once more. He shuffled a leather gloved hand through his satchel for just a few seconds, before approaching you at the work desk.

Unceremoniously, he placed your pay in front of you, each credit dropping with a small ping against the metal surface.

“See you,” Mando said bluntly. You nodded in return, before the Beskar covered man left your shop swiftly, shutting your door gently on his way out. You stared at the credits disapprovingly, before going to relock the door behind him.

You forced yourself to shuffle through your pay, counting the credits so you could note them in your budget, but you furrowed your brows as you finished rounding them up. You must have counted them wrong—there were an extra five hundred credits than what you’d agreed with the Mandalorian all those months ago.

Shaking your head, you went about recounting them, only to get to the same exact outcome. Was it an honest mistake in his counting, or had he overpaid you? Tipped you, helped you, heard the way your voice had almost faltered when you’d told him he was keeping you afloat?

You were awash with a new type of conflict—somewhere between thanks and extreme anger. The thanks were certain; he’d listened, and he hadn’t needed to do that, but he’d done it anyway. The anger; this implied you owed him now. As much as you’d come to enjoy his occasional visits every few weeks, the man was still an utter mystery to you. You didn’t want him to have the option of springing up in here and asking for a favour, knowing that he’d done one for you prior.

But there was still a warmth—it came subtly and out of the blue often, when you were around him. You could have slapped yourself at how fast it came this time round, taking you by surprise and speeding your heart rate up beneath your ribs.

He’s a bounty hunter. Get over it.

You placed your usual cut in your savings bundle, in the safe by your bed, but the extra five hundred stayed out of that bag. You shuffled back into bed with no indication of tiredness flooding over you again. All you saw in the static darkness of your grimy bedroom was the outline of that damn helmet—

And the wonder of what lay beneath.

The next week and a half was long and soul-crushingly slow. You’d had about three repair requests total, completing them all in a matter of hours, not making more than a few thousand credits from the sales. Nevarro had seemed restless recently, with less hunters returning to the Guild for more pucks. Maybe it was just a slow week.

Mando arrived back in the evening again, after you closed your doors early for the weekend. The sunlight trickled over Nevarro sparsely, but that evening was particularly warm, so you decided to have some fun.

Your shop had a back courtyard, nothing major, but you’d transformed it into a mini-firing range a year or so back. You were firing a classic blaster when you heard him approach from behind you—you jumped out of your skin at the sight of him, blaster raised, defensive stance donned.

“I told you to knock, Mando,” You boomed out, clutching your heart and switching the safety on your blaster immediately. Mando raised his arms in subtle apology, but you could have sworn you saw the subtle shake of his shoulders beneath the Beskar.

“You sounded... busy,” He spoke, and you squinted at him, feeling your cheeks flushing. The bastard was laughing. He was silently giggling beneath his helmet, the only indication of his lapse of stoicism being from the tiniest movement of his chest and shoulders, almost indecipherable.

You shot him an amused scowl. “Did you—,”

“I locked it,” He replied, already knowing what you were asking. You gulped down surprise at his immediate response, turning back to your makeshift firing range and trying desperately to calm yourself down.

Now, you were a strong woman, that was no question. But the constant mystery of the last six months in Mando’s presence had provided you with more than you’d bargained for. Was it a reflex to suddenly feel invested in this guy’s life after a while? To want to know his backstory, his missions, his favourite breakfast food or blaster style?

The extra credits from your previous trade had only increased these feelings. What was it about a man in a mask? Or, more specifically, what was it about Mando?

And now, as you awkwardly struggled with the safety on a blaster you’d been firing since you were twelve fucking years old, all you could think about was the tone of his voice as he’d said I locked it.

“You shoot?” Mando questioned, moving round to stand next to you. You shot him a smirk, trying to conceal the thoughts within your head.

“I don’t just repair blasters, if that’s what you mean,” You could have cringed at how cocky you’d sounded, but it was too late.

“Show me,” He spoke. He didn’t demand it, but the way his voice arched it was as if he could make anyone do anything he said, just from the steadiness of that modulated drawl.

You did as you were told. You shook off your limbs subtly, before flicking off the safety and aiming at the targets you’d made. In flashes of green, you hit one, two, three targets with ease, right in the centre of their bullseye.

You changed it up, feeling a surge of confidence, or perhaps the want to impress this stoic man. Skilfully, you flipped the blaster in your hands until it had transferred to your other hand, firing another three times on the same targets and hitting them dead centre once more.

Your index finger clicked the safety on, before you stood in place, admiring the shots you’d fired.

“Try this one,” He said beside you, before he plucked the blaster from your hand and replaced it with this own weapon. You looked it over as it slotted into your grasp. It was heavier than yours, bigger, with a more distanced safety, probably because of the hand width that the Mandalorian possessed.

You furrowed your brows at his blaster, smiling at the way the steel glinted. It was well cared for, polished and gleaming, but slightly worn away around the trigger. Well-used. His own personalised weapon.

You raised the blaster towards the targets, all too aware of the way that chrome helmet was tilted towards you. You steadied your arm, applying just the right amount of pressure against the trigger, before it fired in quick succession—

You analysed the blast fire, the weight, the wind, fixing your trajectory upon impact with the trigger in a matter of milliseconds. When you stopped firing, overseeing the new collection of burning holes in the targets, you realised you’d hit them all dead centre again.

To your delight, or to your utter amazement, Mando let out a low, long whistle from beneath his Beskar.

“That’s a custom weapon,” He spoke afterwards, moving to stand before you. “Not many people could change their shooting style like that to fit the blast radius,” It was the closest thing to a compliment that you’d ever heard him offer.

You stayed silent as he replaced his blaster with your own once more, sheathing his weapon before his visor looked straight into your soul. It was shameful, how you realised you could probably stand there and analyse the chiselled and curved edges of his helmet for hours, how if you focused strongly, you could see him breathing beneath his heavy armour.

You forced yourself to step back, looking back towards the shop. “Right—business,” You said, heading inside immediately with Mando following on your tail.

You dropped your blaster on your work desk, grabbing the logbook and getting ready to flick through it once more, before Mando spoke up.

“I seek no information today,” He revealed. You froze, before slotting the logbook back beneath the desk slowly, trying to wrap your mind around his reason for visiting you.

“Okay,” You said, upon rising from beneath the desk once more. All of a sudden, you remembered his money—burning a hole in the safe in your room. You perked up, slapping your hands on the desk for lack of what the fuck to even do before getting round to almost scolding this man. “Then, I have a bone to pick with you,”

Mando dropped himself onto his usual stool, flicking his cape behind him and leaning back in subtle comfort. You swallowed, trying not to interpret anything from his clearly at ease behaviour, before heading to your bedroom quickly.

“Not the first time I’ve heard that,” He spoke up from the shop floor, and your heart skipped. Was that an attempt at a joke? At some comedy? You had to stop yourself, as you got to the floor and riffled through your safe for his overpaid credits, from allowing a warmth to spread through your gut.

You wanted to curse, as loud as you could. Had it really been that long that you were getting flustered over words from a Mandalorian? Undoubtedly the most hostile and unwelcoming people the galaxy had?

Or, was it just Mando himself that had you overthinking every sentence, every visit?

Credits secured in your fist, you made your way back out to the shop, dropping yourself opposite him and grabbing his arm suddenly, not stopping to think that this man could probably break you in half with his bare hands.

You dropped the credits in his gloved hand, sitting back as he stared at the pellets he now cradled in his palm.

“Not what we agreed,” Is all you said in explanation, picking up a tankard of water and sipping some down your throat, for lack of knowing how to cover up your neon cheeks after the exchange. The weather. It’s just the heat.

“I upped your pay,” He retorted.

“Bullshit, Mando,” You retaliated, allowing a few chuckles to escape your lips. Your face softened then, as you looked over to him, sitting awkwardly, still not knowing what to do with the returned credits. “Your money is your money, Mando. I’m fine with what we agreed,”

His fingers finally clasped around the credits, as his body went back to relax against the wall once more.

“Your shop,” Mando began. “You said I keep you in business,”

“That doesn’t mean I want more of your credits. Owning a washed-up weapons repair shop on kriffing Nevarro isn’t ideal, but neither is being a bounty hunter,”

“You’d earn more as a hunter with the way you shoot,” Mando replied instantly. You perked your brow, sending him a small smile.

“Are you saying I’m not a good weapons mechanic?”

You almost burst out laughing with the way Mando straightened himself, immediately being on edge. His fists tightened, almost as if he was suddenly overthinking if he’d insulted you or not.

“N-no,” He partially stuttered out, but you couldn’t keep your laughter contained. You burst out in giggles, overseeing his complete lack of sarcastic understanding. It was endearing; it made him appear more human.

“Joke, Mando. It was a joke,”

He relaxed after that once more, albeit more hesitantly. He went to slot the credits back in his bag placed on the floor, and as he did so, you allowed yourself to indulge. Beskar gleamed as he leant down, showing the twist of his torso and outlining strong triceps on the small amount of him that was unarmoured.

His neck was slender, compared to the size of his helmet. You wondered how the hell he wore that thing constantly. It didn’t look light, nor did you expect it to be all that comfortable.

If he saw you gawking when he rose once more, he didn’t make any indication of noticing. To avoid revealing what you’d been doing, you moved to cross your legs as a save. “So, why’re you here?” You finally asked, remembering that he had no reason to have visited you.

Mando tensed up slightly at your question, but not enough to come across as surprised. He’d already admitted to not needing information from you today.

“Habit,” He replied honestly. His one-word answer cut through you like a knife, striking your core and filling it with that warmth one again. It wasn’t often that you felt exposed, but sat opposite him, in your home, hearing him be so unapologetically honest had simply made those thoughts rise to the forefront of your mind once more.

You wanted to know him, but you also knew that asking him these things would result in nothing good.

You forced yourself to swallow down these rising wants, to push them away completely, before putting on a small smile. “That’s a funny way of saying that I’m your only friend,”

All effort to force those feelings away dissolved, as soon as you heard the low, modulated chuckles from beneath his helmet. They floated through the room, along with the image of his shaking shoulders and tight chest as his laughter tumbled to the floor.

You felt your cheeks flush immediately, knowing that it would be a noticeable blush. You grabbed your tankard, bringing it to your lips as you continued to indulge in looking at him, as he calmed down from the small burst of laughter that he allowed himself to show you.

There was something pulsing within you that you simply couldn’t contain; that want; that desire, after so long without knowing anyone on this godforsaken planet. Before you could stop yourself, words were already tumbling from your mouth.

“I don’t see many people on this planet, besides you,” You admitted. Mando slowly turned his visor to you, making it known that you had his full attention.

You immediately felt too vulnerable, resulting in you standing from your seat and heading round to your work desk, slamming the tankard down on the top. “It’s... well, it’s nice. I hope that, even if you don’t need information, you continue to come by,”

You held your breath as soon as you stopped talking, too afraid that you’d overstepped a line. Not that this transaction with him had ever been professional, but you knew Mandalorian’s were inherently focused on their job, and their job only.

When he didn’t reply, or move, or do anything, you started to panic. You played it off as best as you could, by downing the rest of the water in your tankard and averting your gaze to beneath your work desk, like you had the immediate need to start taking inventory.

Mando rose a few moments later, grabbing his satchel and placing it over his shoulder. The breath caught in your throat as he approached your desk. You almost gasped as a gloved hand reached for your forearm, dragging it out to hover in front of him.

He dropped the five hundred credits into your palm as your eyes flicked over his helmet at light speed. He stepped back, removing his grip from you and placing his visor upon your face one last time, before turning on his heels and heading for the door.

He unlocked it, but didn’t open it. You felt your pounding heartbeat as he cleared his throat.

“It is,” He let out lowly. “Nice.”

The door swooped open and shut behind him gently before you could say anything in return.

He didn’t come back the next week. You wondered if you’d scared him off, if your tiny confession of enjoying his company was too much.

You thought back to the way he’d said the word— Nice— as if it wasn’t something that was often spoken in his vocabulary. For a man of little words, you were increasingly amazed at how he managed to convey things with his body alone, being weighed down and covered up by Beskar at all times.

The credits still weighed on you. You’d given them back to him, you’d made yourself clear, but then he’d given them back and left without a trace.

You prayed to some god out there that it wasn’t a Mandalorian way of saying goodbye. From what you knew of Mandalore, which was very little, you knew they weren’t the gift giving types, but it still made you think.

Yet all that he’d done, despite the deal, the trade of information and the abrupt middle of the night awakenings, those small attempts at light-hearted banter and void visits had given you just a shred of hope.

People on Nevarro were cut-throat, you knew that better than most after making your home there for so long. That’s why this shook you to your core, sparking this unlikely partnership with someone such as Mando.

Stars, you missed him. It sounded ridiculous when you said it in your head, but you did. Contact was little to none on this planet.

You didn’t speak more than a sentence to people needing repairs. You didn’t sit down and talk, and fuck, the loneliness was something you were used to— yet six months of regular meetings, even just to trade information, had offered you a warmth you hadn’t realised you’d missed—

Until he was gone.

It wasn’t until three weeks later that you ventured out of the shop, certain that you were going mad. You hardly frequented the bar at the entrance of the city, choosing to stay safe and locked away in your small isolation inside the shop, but the absence of people was sucking you dry.

You entered the bar, making sure not to seem out of place. It was still an odd feeling, seeing people sitting around and drinking. You knew a lot of the locals— returning customers for repairs, all of which were hunters.

Perhaps there was some unspoken understanding that you weren’t to be touched, as the small nods of hunters hit you when you accidentally met their eyes. It almost made you feel known, but at the same time you hadn’t felt much since that last conversation with the Beskar clad hunter.

You were heading towards the bar when a voice rang out behind you. “Miss!” You swivelled on your heels, hitting his eyes.

It was Greef Karga. You knew him, everyone on Nevarro did. He was the Guild contact here, the one that most hunters got their pucks from for the next job.

“Karga, hello,” You replied, not politely, but not harshly. Being polite got you nowhere on Nevarro, and you knew that despite his smiles and willingness to be friendly, Karga was a snake in the grass.

“Drink?” He questioned, and you found yourself accepting his offer. You made your way to his booth, slotting yourself in opposite him. He grabbed a bottle of blue liquor from the floor by his feet, clicking at the droid behind the bar for glasses. “What brings you here? You don’t usually venture from your establishment,”

You regarded him, all too aware of the blaster on your hip for safety.

“Slow few weeks. Fancied a change of scenery,” You replied bluntly.

“Ah yes, business is slower than usual currently,” He admitted. A droid placed two shot glasses on your table, scuttling back to the bar. Karga swiped them towards him, uncorking the bottle and filling up both glasses. “But your repairs are stellar, and I hear your custom blasters are best sellers,”

He dragged a glass towards you, which you took once he’d taken his hand away. You swilled the liquid around, trying not to look too despondent.

“Parts are sparse,” You admitted. “Fewer hunters need new gear. I’m starting to think there’s someone better than me on Nevarro,”

Karga let out a coarse laugh, which you first mistook for a chesty cough. His smile was indication enough, however, of the funniness he obviously though that required.

“No, my dear, there’s no one better,” He replied. You chose to ignore him calling you dear. Opposite you he raised his glass to the sky, prompting you to do the same. “To good business in future,”

You nodded at him in response, before downing the blue liquor in one gulp. It burned as it slinked down your throat, hitting your stomach and causing a warmth to spread through your gut. Nothing like the small conversations the Mandalorian gave you, but it made you feel something— and that was in short supply around here.

Karga sighed in refreshment after slamming his glass back on the table, but his gaze fixed on something behind you as you deposited your glass back down. “Ah, Mando!” He exclaimed.

Your heart stopped.

You stayed utterly frozen in place, feeling a mixture of anxiety and adrenaline surge through you.

“That was fast. I wasn’t expecting you back for another few days at least,” Karga continued.

You tried not to let the hurt surge through you. So, he had been back since your last meeting. He’d been back, and he hadn’t come to visit. You tried to rationalise your hurt— he held no obligation to stop by the shop, he held no responsibility, yet— you wished—

You wished he would have.

“I trust you know our resident weapons mechanic,” Karga continued, gesturing to you. You forced yourself to turn round and look at him— face to face. His helmet stared at you blankly in response, and you wondered what expression he held beneath.

Maybe it was annoyance, thinking he was finally rid of a nobody mechanic from the inner city.

Maybe it was surprise, or hurt, or pain. You knew that despite the immense effort you were putting in to keep your stare blunt, he’d see right through you.

“Yes,” Mando replied after what seemed like hours. You turned back to Karga, pushing your glass to the middle of the table in dismissal.

“Thanks for the drink. I’ll be going,” You got up swiftly, standing in front of Mando after leaving the booth. He looked down at you, chrome visor focusing on your eyeline. You found yourself flicking your eyes from the left and right, as if you could see the placement of his eyes beneath the helmet—

Then you looked away.

You sauntered out of the bar, ignoring exclaimed farewells from Karga as you booked it out of the bar, heading straight back to the shop. Your strides were fierce, your heart pounded painfully beneath your ribs and you couldn’t stop yourself from balling your fists.

You felt like screaming, but you kept your mouth shut and your jaw tense. You felt like punching, kicking, pounding something, but you didn’t, instead opting to breathe it out as you entered your shop and slammed the door shut behind you.

It’s fine. It’s fine.

You yelled at yourself to calm down, to accept that it was nothing. God forbid, you’d gotten worked up over the smallest indication of human interaction, from a man whose face you’d never fucking seen, no less.

It was stupid. You’d long grown out of enjoying fairy tales, and this wasn’t one. You were a grown woman, hyper-fixating over a six-month long dodgy deal with a bounty hunter that you didn’t fucking know— not really, anyway.

In a frenzy, you unsheathed your blaster, heading out to your courtyard. You fired at will, not stopping to aim your blaster or even try to hit the targets. When that got dull, you actually started to try—you positioned your feet parallel to your shoulders, straightening your spine and extending your neck—

You fired, hitting the targets dead centre every time, just like normal.

You fired until your trigger finger began to ache, until the incessant anger and hurt in your chest had dissipated to a low roar that you could manage in other ways—with the bottle of Coruscant whiskey that you only saved for special occasions; big deals, good months, and, evidently, to feel something other than red, hot and seething anger.

You went to sheath your blaster, when the hairs on the back of your neck pricked up—

You turned swiftly, raising your gun and keeping your eyes wide open. You faltered when you saw the familiar glint of moon rays on chrome. Mando stood in the courtyard doorway, just as he’d done the last time you’d seen him.

Your elbow buckled, dropping the blaster to your side as you kept yourself composed. You stared him down like you were unbothered to see him. You had a feeling he knew that wasn’t the case, though, and if he’d been there for a few minutes before then your incessant firing would have proven otherwise.

“Mando,” You spoke first, keeping your voice steady. “What information do you need this time?” You kept it professional, not wanting to think back about the way you’d been so blatantly vulnerable to him before. He probably thought you to be childish, over-emotional, idiotic.

You’d rather he thought you to be that, than weak.

“What were you doing with Karga?” He demanded it this time. His voice was low, lower than usual, despite the modulator. You sheathed your pistol, stepping towards him once. He didn’t move aside.

“Drinking,” You stated the obvious. You made a move to try and get past him, but a Beskar covered forearm leant up against the doorframe, stopping you even more so.

“He’s bad news,” He continued. You let out an annoyed scoff.

“I know who Karga is. Kriff—I live here,” You accidentally let your annoyance travel through your words, making it exceptionally clear that you were pissed, if it hadn’t been obvious before.

You grabbed his forearm, tugging it away from the doorframe and pushing your way inside. He let you pass eventually, watching as you grabbed a bottle of whiskey from beneath your work desk. You jumped up onto the desk, letting your legs droop over the side as you uncorked the bottle.

It was silent. You could tell he was trying to find something to say, to bring up the obvious tension, but you also got the sense that Mando didn’t often apologise.

Why should he? He didn’t promise to come back.

He hadn’t promised. You had no idea why you were so ticked off, yet there you were—seething, angry, hurt, perhaps on the brink of tears, but possibly relishing in the fact he’d come to the shop after your little encounter. You felt sick at your own feelings.

“Are you... mad at me?” He spoke finally. The breath caught in the back of your throat. His hesitation made it clear; he didn’t often delve into the workings of others. He was being kind by even asking you about this.

You felt like a dick. All of a sudden, you could see even more so that you were being incredibly irrational. Weeks of zero contact had turned you into a moron. A lonely, overthinking moron.

You glanced up at him, holding the whiskey between your thighs. You let out a sigh.

“No,” You let out. “I’m sorry. It’s been... a strange, few weeks,” You chuckled slightly after speaking, bringing the bottle to your lips and taking a small gulp. “Loneliness is a disease, Mandalorian,” You added, taking another sip and slotting the bottle back between your thighs.

Mando moved from the doorway, striding towards you slowly. You stayed in place, focusing on the warmth that the whiskey provided you with. You finally looked up when he stood before you, not close enough to slot between your hips, but close enough for your knees to graze against Beskar.

He reached out for the bottle, grabbing it from between your thighs and making his way around to the main shop. You went to turn, but the leather of his gloved hand slotted itself between your jaw and your neck, pushing your gaze to the back of the shop.

“Don’t look,” He told you, warningly.

You did as you were told, all the while counting your shallow breaths as they quietly shook from within your body. You heard the subtle glug of the bottle, the drip as the liquid sloshed around within the glass, and then the bottle was being slotted back between your thighs from behind.

Mando’s arm wrapped itself around you as he made sure it was back in place, his glove grazing over the top of your thigh and skimming your waist as he retracted his arm back. You’d be lying if you didn’t relish in those small touches.

They set your skin alight, despite there being no skin-to-skin contact involved. It was the closest he’d ever come to you, allowing the gentler side of himself to appear. You’d never see him this way; guard down, a softness to his voice and his unknowing gaze.

You knew that he’d just raised his helmet to take a sip of whiskey—that was enough to make you gulp back the desires within your gut. You couldn’t believe he’d felt comfortable enough to do that around you. You hesitantly turned, waiting to see if it was allowed, but fully turned to him when he didn’t push your gaze away like before.

You swivelled on the top of the desk, bringing your legs round to droop over the other side, while Mando grabbed his usual stool and dragged it closer to you.

He sat, sighing slightly as he did so, before looking up at you sat before him.

“Solitude,” He spoke. “I prefer that word,” His voice was soft. You knew he was tired just from the way he spoke; he was exhausted.

“Solitude implies a sense of peace,” You replied, stepping carefully over your words. “Do you feel peace in your ship, all alone?”

“Do you feel peace in this shop?” He hit back with, avoiding your question completely. You were about to say no, but you stopped yourself. This shop was all you had, all you knew. Your choice of loneliness, over solitude, was an obvious indication of the way it made you feel, and you wanted to bet that Mando knew that, but—

Without this life, you didn’t know where you’d be.

“It’s all I have,” You admitted, finally. He nodded subtly, not moving his visor from your face.

“And this,” He said, gesturing to the Beskar he donned. “Is all I know. This is the Way,”

You looked down, swinging your legs back and forth for lack of what to do. You wanted to know more—you always wanted to know more about Mando, that was a given. But right now, you wanted to ask him everything.

“Is that why you stopped coming here?” The words trickled from your lips pitifully, but you had no choice but to accept that you’d spoken them.

Mando was silent for a few moments, but he made no indication of looking away from you. You wondered if, beneath the helmet, he was actually looking at you. Maybe he was zoning out, or was focused on the wall behind your head instead.

“I feared continuing to visit you would become a habit I could no longer break,”

There it was—that warmth. It erupted within your gut, winding its way up your spine and neck, circling down your limbs and to the spot between your legs that you always chose to ignore. You tensed up immediately, forgetting about the whiskey bottle between your thighs as the sensation only increased the wobble of your upper thighs.

“Like you said,” Mando continued, and you could have sworn that his voice sounded strained. Like he was holding back, like his body was almost forcing him to stay quiet. He stood suddenly, causing a small gasp to leave your lips involuntarily, as he strode forward to slot himself partially between your legs. “Loneliness is a disease,”

You went jelloid when a hesitant hand was placed on your thigh—

Stars, it’s been a while.

You were slowly beginning to unwind, as Mando placed his other hand on the opposing thigh, slotting himself further between your legs. As much as you wanted to speed this up, to feel skin touch skin, you didn’t know if that was actually possible for the Mandalorian.

“M-Mando,” You stuttered out, but it only made his grip tighten around your plump skin. You instinctively raised your hands to his chest, feeling the smoothness of his Beskar. “Just— wait,” You managed out, despite all of your senses not wanting him to stop what he was doing. His visor shot to your face quickly and his hands fluttered away from your thighs.

You wanted to cry— that’s not what you’d meant—

You swiped your hands across his Beskar chest plate, reaching down for his large forearms. You heard the breath hitch in the back of his throat, as a small moan escaped his modulator.

You placed his arms back on your legs slowly, but he still looked on his guard, wondering what you had to say.

“Loneliness is a disease,” You spluttered out. Your cheeks were flushed a neon red, and you could feel the rapid heartbeat erupting from beneath your ribs. “It’s— overwhelming,”

When he didn’t move or speak, you wanted to kick yourself. Had you done it again? Revealed something that was too much and reduced yourself to a vulnerable mess? For a moment, you thought Mando could smell the weakness within you, but even you didn’t realise you’d unwind this fast at the most subtle of touches from the Mandalorian.

You froze when he raised a gloved hand to pinch your chin. His thumb was firm but gentle, his other fingers curled just beneath your jaw, and his stare was unwavering.

Stars, your whole body throbbed at his touch. You wanted more, but you also didn’t want it to end as quickly as it had started, and you’d meant what you’d said— overwhelming. It was a red, hot heat that you hadn’t felt in years, it was something that you’d have to get used to again, and from the fumbling touches that Mando gave you, you felt he might be in the same boat.

His thumb slowly made its way to your mouth, gliding back and forth over your bottom lip. You were positively glowing, feeling the intimate touch of the hunter for the first time after what seemed like months of fantasy—

You’d had dreams of him, falling asleep to the image of his helmet or the way he slumped on your stool every so often, so desperate to see what lay beneath his armour.

“You’re overwhelmed?” He needlessly questioned. The way his voice trickled all over you was enough to make your body surge towards his once more. You had to stop yourself from reaching for his waistband, overcome with a hunger that you hadn’t been expecting. “It’s okay. We have time,”

With five simple words you could have collapsed to the floor right there. All too soon, his touch vanished from your skin. You leant forward has he removed himself from you, stepping back while you tried desperately to get his touch back.

The whiskey bottle between your legs slipped suddenly, toppling from its place between your thighs as you realised you’d started to open your legs wider where he’d stood between your hips. You grappled at air to try and stop it falling, but it fell from the desk—

Right into a skilful gloved hand. Mando gripped the bottle with a ferocity that you knew he’d wanted to grip you with, before stepping forward once more. He slotted the bottle between your thighs once more, but right in the nook of your upper thighs—

You shivered uncontrollably as both hands came to cradle your thighs, pushing them together to keep the bottle in place.

You watched, defeated, as he picked up his satchel from the floor and slung it over his shoulder, staring at you atop the desk when he was ready to leave.

“If I see you drinking with Karga again, I won’t be as gentle,” Despite his efforts to keep his voice strong, you heard the breathy way he spoke.

It filled you with a confidence that had disappeared as soon as he’d first placed the bottle back between your legs.

“You’ll have to catch me first,” You challenged. You couldn’t stop yourself from sending a smirk his way, and it had the desired effect—

Mando dropped his helmet to the floor as the most subtle of groans escaped his lips. He swivelled and turned, heading for the door immediately afterwards.

He opened it, letting in the cold Nevarro air. You watched as he slinked out of the door, pulling it shut from the outside—

And then there was silence. You breathed out a shaky breath that you didn’t realise you’d been holding, grabbing the whiskey and taking a large gulp as you tried to regain your composure fully.

You went to bed that night utterly elated, his chrome visor appearing behind your eyes all the same.

Feel free to send things to my ask box or message me!

#din djarin x reader #no saints #no saints fic #din djarin #pedro pascal #star wars #star wars fic #star wars fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #x reader #reader insert #smut and fluff #smut and angst #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian smut #fanfiction #ao3 #wattpad

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wakaoujisenhime · 3 years

Text

Our fireplace - Keigo x reader

A/N: This right here is a special present for @bluuenvy for the Secret Santa event fyeahbnha hosted! Hope you have a great holiday! I tried to implement as much of your interests/wishes, which you shared with me, as I could and hope that you’ll enjoy this fluffy story even a little bit! (*´◡`)

I also tried my hand at graphics and hope that it’s enough to count as a second present! Please enjoy! ❤️

Tags: Hawks/Keigo x reader ✅ SFW ✅ fluff ✅

━━━━☆ ━━━━☆ ━━━━☆

You were woken up rather sudden and unwillingly as the sunlight which shone on the empty space next to you reached your closed eyes. In an attempt to escape the bothersome light you turn your back to your windows and look at the dimly lit room with squinted eyes. The slight fragrance of your boyfriend’s cologne was still lingering and it made you remember the way his arms would always wrap around your body and keep you warm during all those nights immediately made a smile appear on your sleepy face.

Despite still feeling tired you stretched your body and reached for your glasses on the nightstand next to your bed, while doing so you managed to catch a glimpse of the clock.

8:35 AM…

You sighed and leaned your back against the headboard. It usually didn’t surprise you to wake up alone, but today you at least hoped to be able to have your beloved next to yourself. Sadly him being a pro hero meant that things like this would occur daily and you had no choice but to accept it.

Another sigh escaped your mouth as you slowly got up and made your way to the kitchen, ready to prepare some breakfast and start your first free day since long ago, but much to your surprise a plate of your favorite breakfast meal was already standing at the center of the kitchen island and a small note was leaned against the edge of the plate. You take the small paper and look at the familiar handwriting.

Good morning sunshine, hope I didn’t wake you up this morning (though maybe I should have). I wish you a Merry Christmas and hope that you’ll make the most out of today’s first half, ‘cause I get to have you all to myself during the second half. Just make sure to be at home by 6 PM, trust me...you won’t regret it.

Love you, my dear

While you read that note, you failed to notice the wide grin that had spread across your face. The mere thought of your boyfriend having prepared something for the two of you additionally to his plan of coming home earlier than he had ever managed before made your heart race with anticipation. You started humming to yourself while you ate your warm breakfast.

Today is going to be a great day…

With that thought in mind, you finished up eating, put the dishes away, and made your way to the bathroom. Your plan for today was to mainly spoil yourself and do some shopping, since thanks to work you weren’t able to go on a good shopping spree for quite a while.

Surrounded by the warm and bubbly water of your bathtub you let your thoughts wander, thinking about whether you should invite some of your friends to accompany you, but you decided against it, remembering that today was a special holiday they’d probably like to spend alongside their families and significant others. Thanks to your thought process, the idea of spending Christmas alongside your beloved entered your mind once again and before you could suppress any upcoming scenario that popped into your head, you saw a small smiley face on the mirror shelf unit above your sink. Your eyes widened as you remembered the day Hawks had drawn this small emoticon. The two of you took a bath together on that day and when you started drying your hair in front of the mirrored shelf he made fun of your pouty face. He said that you should try and look more cheerful so that you prevent any wrinkles from forming on your beautiful and young face. Since the mirror was still partially fogged back then, the little face had stayed there, and it unexpectedly brightened up your mood.

“Alright, let’s do this!” you happily cried out and raised both of your fists into the air, determined to make this the best day of your life.

After pressing the play button on your phone’s favorite playlist and turning the volume to max, you began to dance while you dressed yourself up. As for today’s outfit, you picked one that you considered your favorite: black skinny jeans, a dark purple top, and a grey pullover with dark-colored patterns. Now that you were dressed up, you once again returned to the bath to do your hair, since having long hair meant a lot of struggles, but you never considered it that way...if anything you absolutely loved it and you’d gladly spend almost an hour playing with it or fixing it, and indeed it took you 40 minutes to fix it the way you wanted it to be. With a triumphant grin, you placed your hands on your hips and admired the subtle hairdo that perfectly complemented your facial features.

Perfect...now I’m all set.

Instead of pausing your loud music, you simply plugged your headphones in and continued dancing to the vibrant beats that roared through the small speakers as you progressively left the apartment.

——

After getting on your regional bus which would drive you right to the heart of the city where all of the shops would stand so close to each other that they resembled a tight-knitted pearl necklace, allowing not even the tiniest space for a side alley. You took a seat next to the window and looked out, relishing the familiar places of your vivid hometown. As soon as the vehicle passed a couple of your favorite stores you once again remembered some of your past dates with Keigo and thanks to the energetic J-Rock music that dominated your playlist, the scenes you recalled were mostly positive. Even though you were in a slight daze something caught you off guard. A pair of red wings flashed before your vision and you were so taken aback that it took you a short while to actually process what you had seemingly witnessed. You reluctantly turned your head back a bit, trying to make sure that your eyes weren’t deceiving you, but the bus had already passed the shop in question and the trademark of your boyfriend was nowhere to be seen.

Am I finally starting to see things?

Your stop finally arrived and the moment you got out of the bus, the festive mood of the city finally hit you in all its glory. Holiday lights, garlands, colorful posters announcing sales or wishing passersby and customers a merry Christmas. Everything was so full of life and bright that the immense urge to visit every single shop overcame you, a tingly feeling you know too well. The city center was brimming with life and not only tourists and locals were present, but also some folks from the outskirts had decided to drop by and enjoy what the usually stressful and oppressing collage of high buildings had organized for the festive days. Your excitement went through the roof as you walked a few steps, letting your eyes roam around, and that’s when you first took notice of the variety of street vendors that loudly advertised their products and food. Everything seemed so welcoming and warm and if it weren’t for your little “promise” with Keigo, you would’ve spent your entire day jumping from one store to the other, trying as much of the food out as your stomach could take. A silent giggle escaped your lips at the sheer imagination of yourself going through with that plan, but enough of that. You were here to spoil yourself and no one was going to stop you from it.

A few hours passed by and within those you had visited a handful of shops. You had paid a visit to your favorite clothing store, which you left with two full shopping bags, full of new different tops, jeans, jackets, and a few beanies you’d occasionally put on. Next, you visited one of the many music stores your city had constructed, looking for the newest release of your main Japanese rock band as well as for some merch to go along with it. Further down the street was a small and barely noticeable building, its size was minuscule in comparison to the ones which surrounded him and unlike them, it had no modern façade, it was a simple brick building with very few Christmas decorations. And this small store was something you considered your getaway on lonely days or just bad days in general...it was your favorite bookstore. You were always over the moon when they had the latest release of your favorite genre of books, namely mystery novels. The staff there was similar to the building’s exterior: old but proper, super friendly, and attentive to any type of customers. They adored you and you did so as well. That mutual fondness you had for each other lead to many conversations on different topics, you sometimes even sat down and drank something together, but the main thing they did for you was set the newest releases to the side and wait for you to pick them up.

When you opened the wooden door to the store the familiar chime of the small bell above the door frame rang out, notifying the two owners of your arrival.

“My dear, welcome! How have you been?”

Another wide smile adorned your lips as you took the old and skinny hands of the owner into your own, squeezing them lightly. The two of you exchanged greetings, chatted a bit, and then his facial features dropped a little. His voice sounded sad as he confessed to you that there were no new novels for you to pick up. His seriousness took you by surprise, but you just giggled and reassured him, that it was no problem whatsoever, you were here to give them something in the first place. Their surprised and touched expressions warmed your heart, and after exchanging dozens of hugs you exited the store and resumed your shopping spree…

“No way! Bakugou look who’s there!”

The sudden loud but cheerful voice caught you off guard and as you turned your head to its source you saw a familiar duo amid the countless other pedestrians.

“Kirishima! Bakugou! What a coincidence of meeting you guys here!”

“There’s nothing coincidental about this and you know it.”

Both you and the red-haired young man squinted your eyes and raised your eyebrows at the grumpy blond, who immediately got flustered and tried to hide it with countless insults that weren’t bad-mannered in the least. Ignoring his usual tactics Kirishima and you shifted your attention to each other and started chatting up a storm.

“Have you been out shopping for presents as well?” he asked with his typical lively voice. You smiled and answered that this was more or less the case. The three of you resumed the walk and talked about today’s plans.

You found out that the former 1A planned a get-together at a restaurant and Bakugou made sure to stress multiple times that he wasn’t here voluntarily and that Kirishima had forced him to go shopping for some small surprises for their former classmates.

“And what about you, don’t you have anything planned with that birdman of yours?” If you weren’t between these tall men right now, the blond would’ve gotten elbowed by his friend, who now had to resort to glares only.

“Bakugou, you can’t ask her something so personal!”

“Why not? Didn’t we tell her about our plans too?”

“She’ll share it with us if she feels comfortable, ok? It’s way more private than our get-together!”

“You little-”

Much to their surprise, your giggles were what interrupted their small bickering and after a while, the two of them couldn’t hold back and joined in. After calming down you just shook your head and told them about the small note he had left behind but after suppressing all those lonely thoughts for the entire day, your facade finally dropped and so did your expression. You couldn’t take it anymore, this entire time you had spent in the city, trying to spoil yourself, one couple after the other entered your sight and as if to spite you, all of them recreating some of the cutest couple moments you had experienced alongside Hawks. It was as if all the couples had come up with a plan to constantly rub salt into your wound and you really hated being that overdramatic, but you really couldn’t help it.

So what if I want to be with him on Christmas?

Is it bad that I want him by my side on a holiday one is supposed to celebrate with their loved one?

You suddenly felt a big hand pat you on your back and it startled you. Turns out that you had been saying all of these things out loud. Now both men were looking at you with a worried and sympathetic expression, it was no secret that you were embarrassed about your sudden outburst and just as you were about to apologize to them, Bakugou sighed unexpectedly audible, catching the two of you off guard.

“You know I’m probably never going to hear the end of this, but I can’t keep this up anymore...not when you’re like this,” he paused and looked at you “before I met up with Kirishima, I saw that bird further down the street, mumbling to himself that he had to quickly go back home and start preparing for something or else he wouldn’t make it. So chances that you meet him at home right now rather than later...are rather high.”

That’s all he had to say and the perhaps biggest grin you had ever mustered appeared on your face a couple of seconds after he had finished his little confession of sorts. You really wanted to stay with them for a little bit longer but the thought of meeting Keigo earlier than expected prevailed, so you hugged them goodbye, wished them and their classmates a pleasant night, and finally gave Bakugou a quick and rather unexpected kiss on his puffed-out cheek. Kirishima stopped him from releasing his quirk under the broad daylight while they were in between all these innocent people and earned himself a reward kiss on his cold red cheek as well.

The drive back passed by quicker in comparison to earlier and you were really thankful for that since you couldn’t wait to meet your beloved any longer.

“Keigo!”

Your loud voice mixed with the quick and sudden way you opened the front door startled the winged man so bad that he even let out a silent yelp. He was so surprised by your premature visit that he just stood there in the middle of the living room with two beautifully wrapped presents in his hands. You were quite surprised yourself at the way your home had changed in those few hours you were away, but that was secondary right now because something on your boyfriend caught your attention. He wore a fluffy white pullover which you secretly knitted for him over the course of a few months, it was supposed to be his present for today which you had put underneath the small Christmas tree the two of you decorated a few weeks back.

“Ok wait, I can explain!”

While he put away the two boxes in panic, you simply jogged up to him and jumped into his arms, almost knocking him down. Before he could say anything, you began kissing his lips passionately and after a few of your kisses, he decided to just drop his explanation for the time being and enjoy your affectionate behavior, which he of course returned with as much love as you had given him.

When the two of you finally separated, he took the initiative and began talking: “So before you start showering me with questions all I want to say is that I was planning on surprising you with a joint dinner, some presents, and your favorite dessert. Unfortunately, someone caught me in the middle of my plans so now…you’ll have to wait quite a bit for me to finish everything up, sorry about that sunshine I reall-”

“It’s ok Keigo I don’t mind! If anything...I’d love to help you out with it and even though that might ruin your planned surprise, I honestly don’t care for it too much. I just want to be with you today.”

Your bluntness had always been something he admired you for and it was no secret that he still had some problems with expressing his feelings without any restraint and that’s why he really appreciated it when you made the first steps. Back when the two of you had first met it was the exact opposite: he was the open and pretty forward person while you were a tad shyer, but after the two of you gradually grew closer to each other your roles reversed. Nonetheless, you both complement each other perfectly and every day was but another great adventure.

The two of you moved your conversation to the kitchen where you guys finished up the rest of the dinner and talked about your day. That’s also when you finally answered the question he was constantly bringing up, namely why you knew that he’d be back at home earlier than he promised.

After you guys put some of the meals in the oven and let the others cool down, your boyfriend took you by the hand and dragged you to the fireplace he had lit some moments ago, urging you that it was now your turn to open your presents.

Keigo sat down cross-legged in front of you and watched you open the boxes with big eyes. You picked the bigger one first and when you finally reached the present you couldn’t help but laugh. It was a beige cardigan which also seemed like it was self-knit, similar to the pullover you gave him. Both of you couldn’t help but burst out laughing at the similar thoughts you guys had for a present. Next up was the smaller rectangle box which was way harder in comparison and even though you tried your best to not damage the wonderfully chosen present paper, your curiosity got the best out of you and soon you were ripping one small piece after the other...and forth came a book.

“N-No way! Keigo is that what I think this is?”

“Well...if you’re thinking about the newest volume of your favorite suspense novel, then yes, this is indeed it!”

You happily cried out his name and once again threw your arms around his neck, but this time it was him who attacked you with millions of kisses. Keigo then took you into his arms and leaned his back against the couch. Both of you remained in that position for a short while, his calm breathing, and a little quickened heartbeat were having a quite calming effect on you. The warmth the fire next to you provided made you sleepy on top of that and just as you were about to close your eyes and doze off, your beloved’s voice brought you back to reality...

“You know sunshine...if there is something like a past life then I’d like to believe that we were destined to be together but didn’t manage to do it.”

It was surprising to hear him speak of past lives since this was normally a topic you were interested in and often thought about, Keigo on the other hand usually listened to your theories and imaginations and added his opinion occasionally, so hearing him initiate it this time was a little worrisome. But you knew better than to interrupt him, so all you did was squeeze his body tighter and remain silent yet attentive.

“I rarely imagine stuff like that, but on days like this I just can't help but wonder if I really deserve this much happiness...d-don’t misunderstand me though, I’m really really thankful for you, our relationship, everything! But everything is going so smooth that I just can't help but overthink it and maybe we weren’t in a relationship in our past lives, but ended up leading a good life despite that, so now...”

Silence followed and you heard how his pulse had remarkably quickened the longer he talked about it, knowing Keigo his thoughts had already begun drifting into the darkest of abysses, and you weren’t going to let that happen.

“...Now you’re thinking that something bad might be waiting for us in the future...as payback for our good life but bad relationship type of past life?” you asked as you looked up to the worried facial expression of your lover, whose only reaction was to nod. You sat up and looked him directly into his eyes while your hands squeezed both of his cheeks.

“That’s not how past lives work Keigo and you know it. I don’t want you to plunge yourself in darkness over a theory with no basis. Since when were you even that type of guy who believed that...what did you call it again...mambo jambo?”

He smiled and gave your palms a gentle kiss, but he remained silent, waiting for you to finish.

You continued trying to reassure him, telling him that no matter what you guys were going to face in the future you’d always have each other and even if that one random theory he came up with should happen one day, you promised him to never leave his side.

And this seemingly meaningless promise is what drove Hawks to come out of his comfort zone in the following months, he also started coming home earlier from work and patrols. All in all, he began spending more time with you and you had nothing against it, if anything you appreciated him thinking more about your joint life as well as himself.

One day when you once again got woken up by the sunlight you felt how someone caressed your cheek and then the mattress tilted as the weight which was next to you disappeared. It took you a few minutes to wake yourself up and look around for your lover, but then you noticed something on your hand. Your eyes widened and you immediately jumped out of your bed, looking for Keigo, who was smiling to himself as he took a seat in front of your fireplace and patiently waited for you...

#fyeahbnhasecretsanta #bnha x reader #mha x reader #takami keigo x you #hawks x you #bnha fluff #mha fluff #━𝙱𝙽𝙷𝙰 #━𝙼𝙷𝙰 #━𝚅𝙸𝚂𝙸𝚃𝙾𝚁'𝚂 𝙴𝙲𝙷𝙾 #bluuenvy

36 notes · View notes

aliwritesfic · 3 years

Text

The Shop of Misordinary (Frankie Morales Drabble)

AN: I wrote this at 1AM entirely on my phone because my laptop is broken, so no word count sorry 😢 I take no responsibility for spelling, grammatical, or formatting errors. It’s also winter and it’s freezing so I stopped writing when my fingers started hurting.

Frankie knew the moment he stepped inside the tiny shop that something wasn’t right. Not in a way that made his skin crawl, that set off alarm bells in his head. It wasn’t right in a way that made him feel like he had stepped off the rain slicked city street and into a completely different place. A small bell tinkled his arrival, but there didn’t seem to be anyone about. His heavy work boots creaked loudly on the hardwood floor.

Shelves were crammed with an assortment of items; ordinary enough looking items, yet nothing that correlated. Jars of what Frankie assumed was tea with labels like Bravery and Persistence carefully placed on them. Ancient looking leather bound tones with no names on the spine, that seemed to hum the closer he got. Small, faceless idols in gold, silver, bronze. Nothing had a price tag.

“Anything catch your eye?” A light, airy voice startled him out of his browsing. He turned to face a woman with wild hair, who held an air of agelessness about her. Frankie cleared his throat.

“Everything?” He tried, which was the truth. He’d never been in a shop like this before. He wondered if it was one of those new age places that Santi’s sister was into. The woman chuckled lightly and rested an elbow against the glass countertop.

“Allow me to rephrase, is anything calling out to you? Are you feeling drawn to anything?” She said. Frankie shook his head. She frowned slightly, the space between her brows furrowing.

“It’s all very interesting, but no. Sorry.” He wasn’t sure why he apologised. It wasn’t like it was his fault that he just wasn’t interested in this new age hippy shit.

“That’s . . .” the woman thought for a moment, “that’s strange.”

Now it was Frankies turn to frown. “Not really, I’m just not interested.” The woman shook her head.

“No, it’s strange. Very strange, actually.” She stood and made her way to his side of the counter. She stood a head shorter than him, and Frankie noticed that she had tattoos snaking up her arms; flowers and vines and insects and birds, an entire forest on her skin.

Frankie bit back a sigh. “Why’s it strange? Are people just so enchanted with your shop that they can’t help but spend all their money? Well sorry but I’ve got no use for anything in here, and I’m running late. I don’t even know why I came in here in the first place.”

He turned to leave, thinking of the beer waiting for him at home.

“Wait!” She caught his arm, her grip surprisingly firm for someone who almost didn’t seem real. “You wouldn’t be here unless you needed something in here.”

Frankie rolled his eyes, completely over whatever this was. His voice took on a mocking, almost cruel tone. “Whatever this sales tactic is-”

“It’s not a tactic!” The woman let go of his arm and held it rigidly at her side. “If you’ll give me a moment to explain. Please.”

It was the please that did it.

She seemed to understand this, pulling a chair out of seemingly thin air and gestured for him to sit. He did, crossing his arms in front of his chest. She hoisted herself onto the counter and crossed her ankles.

“Fransisco, this isn’t an ordinary shop, although I’m sure you have ascertained that.”

Frankie rubbed his nose, confusion growing by the second. “I never told you my name.” Was all he could say.

“Quite right,” she agreed, “as I was saying, this isn’t an ordinary shop. It’s misordinary.”

“That’s not a word.”

“Yes, it is. It’s misordinary in every sense of the word. See, the shop is only available to those who need it. Who need something from it, they’re calling out to it, even if they don’t realise. You were calling out to it, Fransisco, but it seems neither of us know what for.”

Frankie wanted to tell her that what she was saying sounded like something from a kids book, but something in his gut told him to keep his mouth shut.

“Have you been having any trouble with certain emotions? No? Need the favour of a god? No again? Want to erase someone from your memory? No no no.” She sighed tapped her chin with a long finger. She jumped down from the counter, gestured for him to remain seated, and disappeared through a door that Frankie was sure hadn’t been there a minute ago.

He could’ve left. This was the perfect time to leave. Something though, something he couldn’t describe, kept him rooted to the spot. The woman emerged a few minutes later, holding two steaming teacups of silver liquid. Frankie eyed it warily.

“What is this,” he said, sniffing. Lavender, salt of the ocean, rain, all seemed to fill his nose at once.

“It’s to help us both figure out why you’re here,” she said, taking a delicate sip from her own cup. Frankie followed suit, surprised at the pleasant taste that burst over his tongue. Mint mostly, with a faint hint of honey.

“Now we wait.” The woman set her now empty teacup down and held her hand out for Frankies.

“How long for?” He asked. Delicious warmth was spreading through his chest, pooling in his stomach.

“However long it should take.” She said with a shrug. She also seemed to anticipate his next words. “Don’t worry. You won’t be late for your beer and basketball. Time doesn’t move in here, not a second has truly passed since you stepped foot through that threshold.”

Disbelieving, Frankie looked down at his watch. It was stuck on five-fifteen, the face still glowing but the seconds unmoving.

So in the end, he didn’t know how long they sat there in silence, waiting. Frankie let his mind wander, occasionally glancing down at his watch to make sure it was still stuck.

“Oh my,” the woman’s whisper made his head jerk up. He raised a brow at her, waiting for her to say more.

“Do you see it?” She asked softly.

“See what?”

“Watch my pointer finger. Don’t blink, if you can help it.”

Frankie did as she requested, his eyes burning and watering with the effort. But then he saw. A thin red string seemed to tie itself around her finger. He followed it, right to his own.

“I see why you’re here now,” she said. Her eyes searched his face, confusion written plainly on her expression.

“What does it mean?” Frankie asked. She shrugged helplessly.

“There’s old folklore, myths . . .” She bit her lip. “Fransisco, have you ever heard of the invisible string?” Frankie shook his head. “Stay a while? And I’ll explain it? We might be able to figure out why we’re connected.”

“I don’t even know your name,” Frankie said, thinking this whole thing was a bit ridiculous.

“I haven’t uttered my own name in centuries,” she said more to herself than him. “Haven’t been asked in centuries.”

Frankie pulled a face. Well and truly insane, he thought. But then her eyes met his, and he thought maybe she wasn’t so insane.

“My name is Rhiannon. Please, stay and allow me to explain everything to you.”

So he stayed.

#frankie morales #fransisco catfish morales #triple frontier #frankie morales fanfiction

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sanderssidesfanfiction · 3 years

Text

If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Ninety Five

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

October 13th, 2000

Remy resisted the urge to bang his head against the desk in boredom. His professor hated him, he knew all of this, and he couldn’t wait to get out of here so he could just chill in his dorm room, or maybe eat. He needed a break.

“Mister Picani?” the professor cut through his thoughts.

“Hm?” Remy asked, looking back to the front.

“Do you have the answer?” the professor asked impatiently.

“Depends on the question,” Remy replied.

The kids laughed, and the professor’s lips thinned into a line. “See me after class,” he said.

Remy sighed as the professor moved on. Bored and now in trouble, too.

Great.

January 20th, 2004

Remy did his best to give a stern glance to himself in the mirror, but only wound up wincing as he saw what he looked like. He was wearing a nice suit, complete with one of Emile’s non-cartoon-themed ties. He didn’t know exactly what he was going to do today, but this look wasn’t cutting it.

“How you doing, Rem?” Emile asked from the edge of the bedroom.

“I feel like a monkey in a suit,” Remy said, gripping the ceramic counter and snarling at his reflection. “I don’t want to go into the school looking like this.”

“You know, you don’t have to impress your old business professor,” Emile pointed out. “Just because he asked you to answer some questions from the up-and-coming business students doesn’t mean that you have to deal with,” Emile gestured vaguely to Remy’s reflection. “This.”

Remy undid the tie and sighed. “I suppose you’re right,” he said. “But can I really go in there with a blouse and slacks and expect to be taken seriously?”

Emile shrugged. “If you walk in there with confidence, probably,” he said. “Besides, most of the business students already look at you like you’re a celebrity. You’ve got this.”

Remy sighed and nodded, pulling the tie out of his collar. “You know what? You’re right. I’ll save the suits for weddings,” he said decisively. He stripped as he exited the bathroom, and was in nothing but his briefs by the time he went to the closet. He pulled out a pair of slacks that made him feel more cute than sophisticated, and pulled out that wild diagonal light-blue-and-purple blouse with all the ruffles. “Now this... this I can get behind.”

Emile snickered as Remy slid the blouse down his arms. “What?” Remy asked with an embarrassed blush.

“I’m not laughing at you,” Emile rushed to assure. “I just find it funny that your business professor is going to have to walk you into a classroom full of eager students, you dressed up in a blouse and those slacks that make your butt look fabulous, and admit that he failed to teach you and you still became successful.”

Remy absorbed that information, before offering Emile a shy grin. “Okay, you’re right, that’s kinda funny,” he admitted.

Emile grinned. “See? You’re gonna kill it, Rem. I know you, and I know enough about that class from you ranting to me about it when we were freshmen.”

“If you say so...” Remy said with a little shrug. “I don’t know about killing it, but I’m definitely going to make that professor red in the face, and that makes it all worth it.”

Emile kissed Remy’s cheek and helped him with the last button on the blouse, before leaving Remy to pull up the slacks. “Ready for breakfast?” he asked.

Remy nodded, and the two of them went downstairs, Emile cooking up the eggs while Remy made the toast, because Remy didn’t want to get any grease splatter on his nice blouse. They ate in the kitchen standing up, just like old times in their apartment, and Remy hummed. “You’re getting better at eggs, Emile, I gotta admit,” he said with a little grin.

“Thank you, I do try,” he said. “It’s not fair to make you make all the meals we have, after all, not with your job.”

Remy shrugged. “I don’t mind most days, but I see your point,” he allowed.

They went to the car and Remy fidgeted only a little. He was admittedly, worried. He was an out and proud gay man at the shop, but now? He wasn’t going to the shop, he was going to a college classroom full of freshmen, who weren’t as open and exposed to things like the LGBT community if they didn’t go looking for that. And it was a little scary, thinking that today, he was gonna have to show to these freshmen what gay and successful looked like. Whether he wanted to be or not, he was going to be making an impression on these kids.

“Hey, you’re gonna do great, Rem,” Emile reassured.

“I know,” Remy groaned. “It just...it sucks that I have to make an impression on these kids, while barely being more than a kid myself.”

“Yeah,” Emile agreed. “I think if this becomes a regular thing, you’ll cringe at your first presentation eventually, but you’d get it done. You’re freaking amazing, Remy. I have no doubt that you’ll make a good impression. And if you have to make an impression, I’d prefer a good one to a bad one.”

Remy nodded, swallowing. They went to the college campus, and Remy’s ears were roaring as his heart pounded. It looked the same as ever, but it felt different to Remy, returning as not a student, not a ride, not a boyfriend, but a guest lecturer. “Oh, God,” he breathed.

Emile smiled, walking with him to the business building. “I’ve gotta get to my classes, but I’ll see you soon, okay?” Emile promised. “I love you.”

“Love you,” Remy said, getting a quick kiss from Emile before walking inside the business building.

He felt somewhat self conscious, dressed the way he was, but he walked down the hall until he saw his old professor, shaking his hand. “Good to see you again, Professor Fleming.”

“You too, Remy,” his old professor said. “You were one of my worst students, but also one of my favorites. I knew you could do something like this if only you applied yourself.”

“I guess you were right,” Remy said with a long-suffering sigh.

“What was that? Didn’t quite hear you,” Professor Fleming said with a smug grin.

“You heard me,” Remy grumbled.

“Nice to hear it, too,” he said. “Shall we go in? This will be all my business class students who are taking one hundred one level. I made sure you wouldn’t have to do this more than once over the course of the week.”

That made the whole prospect slightly more terrifying, but Remy nevertheless nodded. “Sure. May as well give it a shot.”

Professor Fleming walked in, and Remy followed behind him. The whole class quieted when they saw Remy, slouching against the professor’s desk in a bright blouse and dress pants. Remy could feel a slight heat building up in his ears. “Class, this is Remy Picani, the local store owner of Sleep Easy. Behave yourselves when you ask questions,” the professor said, giving the class a stern glance, before moving to sit in a seat in the front row of the classroom.

“Okay...right,” Remy said. “You all by now know my name, and most of you will probably forget it over the duration of the lecture. That’s okay, so long as you remember that I make a mean cuppa joe.” Ripples of laughter went through the class. Remy smiled, relaxing into a more natural pose. “Now, I want to make one thing abundantly clear: I am the exception, not the rule, okay? College isn’t for everyone, and that’s fine. But if you think you can drop out of college, start out on your own from nothing and become a successful business owner? Think again. I only got the property I did through my fiancé’s trust fund. And I only knew what I did about business because I read through all the books that were on the recommended reading list before I even went to college. So don’t look at me, go, ‘If he can do it, why can’t I?’ and try to follow in my footsteps. Not least because of the fact that I value my position as the only small business café on Main Street.” More laughter. “But go on, fire away some questions. I don’t have a structure for these sorts of things, this is actually my first lecture. We’ll go about this process together.”

A hand went up and Remy pointed to the girl. “Exactly how much math goes into running a business?” she asked.

“More than I’d like,” Remy said, laughing. “No, but. In all seriousness, it’s a lot of math. Not only to keep track of sales versus costs, but also number of people each day, reviews, and cash flow. There’s... so much math. It’s exciting, in a daunting kind of way. Like, I had the sort of mind that could have been an accountant. I would have been bored to tears, but I could do those sorts of equations. And make no mistake: you have to be good with those sorts of things in order to get through the other side of business that no one talks about.”

Another hand, and Remy pointed at the guy. “What inspired you to start the business?”

“A string of bad luck and upper management not taking me seriously as potentially becoming one of them,” Remy replied. “They didn’t want me running a shop, even though I knew everything that went into it. So I made my own.”

Another. “Why are you wearing a blouse?”

Remy turned red as murmurs went through the classroom. The professor coughed. “Let’s stick to the business side of things, please,” he said.

“No, it’s fine, I’ll answer,” he said. “I feel more comfortable and confident in this blouse than I do wearing suits. And since I’m my own boss, I can do that sort of thing.”

The questions he answered were mostly business focused, but there was the occasional jab at his dress or his sexuality. It was no secret that he and Emile had their kiss published in the paper.

One hand went up, and Remy inwardly cringed, as he could see the silver cross dangling from her neck. “Yes?” he asked her.

“Is there anyone you don’t allow in your shop?” she asked.

Remy relaxed a little. “Sure. People who are mean to the staff don’t exactly get welcomed in my shop. And then there are the loiterers, who I have to shoo off from time to time. And of course, there’s the homophobes...”

“You don’t allow people who disagree with being gay in your store?” she asked. “Isn’t that bad for business?”

“It’s a college town, I manage,” Remy said with a weak smile.

“But you’re shutting them out for their religious beliefs,” the girl protested. “That’s discrimination.”

“Actually, it’s not. Because you can choose to be accepting of gay people. You can’t choose being gay. There’s a difference,” Remy pointed out. “So I don’t let homophobes who are blatantly homophobic in my shop. Of course, hanging up queer art around the place from local artists probably doesn’t endear my shop to them any.”

“But—”

“Kid, what’s your name?” Remy interrupted.

“Shirley. And I’m not a kid,” she huffed.

Remy shrugged. “Your mental development is years of difference from mine, so to me, you’re a kid. Look. You’re in college now. You’ll find that a lot of people around you will do things you don’t agree with. A lot of people will be things you were taught were bad. And they’re not. You don’t have to join in, you don’t have to be that if you don’t want to be. But your personal opinions shouldn’t dictate anybody else’s experience. I don’t allow homophobes in my shop because I’m gay. I don’t feel safe around them, and like I said, it’s a college town. I manage. But I really don’t want you walking away from this thinking you should discard everything I say because I’m a ‘sinner.’ I may be gay, but I’m also a business man. And those two may have overlap in some places, but by and large they don’t. So don’t dismiss me right off the bat. Sound good?”

The girl sank in her seat and shrugged. “Shirley, see me after the class, all right?” Professor Fleming said. “Thank you for being understanding, Remy, I’m sorry about that.”

“Hey, I’m always trying to educate when I get the chance,” Remy joked.

The rest of the lecture went off without a hitch, and when Emile came over to drop Remy off the keys to the car, Remy felt bold enough to kiss Emile’s cheek. Professor Fleming smiled. “Would you be willing to do this again next semester?” he asked.

“Absolutely!” Remy agreed.

#if there's a place i could be #sanders sides fanfiction #remile #emile picani #ts sleep

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saigamiproject · 3 years

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Rules: Answer 30 questions and tag blogs you are contractually obliged to know better (shout-out to @sunnyteea for tagging me and preventing @pugoata from asking me questions she knows the answer to anyways <3 )

Name: Seny

Gender: ♀

Star Sign: Virgo

Height: 5′0 I’m tiny T-T

Time: 9:53pm

Birthday: 9/20

Favourite bands: I don’t really do favorites but I listen to a lot of RWBY. Also a lot of bands from like 10+ years ago like Rise against, Yellowcards and all that edgy teen me liked. And Imagine Dragons.

Favourite solo artist: Taylor Swift? P!nk? I don’t know

Last Movie: HP- Prisoner of Azkaban... you don’t understand, it was a high marathon attempt...

Last Show: Brooklyn 99... I’m just very gay for Rosa

When did I create this blog: I literally have no idea! A couple years ago to follow Fairy Tail artists (don’t judge me) and then it was just an automatic post extension for my instagram. I started using it last year again, but if it wasn’t for Pugoata reminding me to post my stuff here too you wouldn’t see shit from me lol sorry

What I post: RWBY, bees, and occasionally my own comics. Just ladies in love

Last thing I googled: “Orpheus and Eurydice in hungarian” Listen, you can never know what shitty translation things get in Hungarian lol

Other blogs: I keep forgetting this one exists, do you expect me to keep up wiht others too?

Do I get asks: I got like one once and I still have no idea what it was about sédfsjldfk sorry but hey, if you wanna ask anything from me you know where to do it. I don’t, but hopefully I’ll find it eventually. Sorry I’m a tumblr noob

Why I chose my URL: Saigami was my big comic project when I got into social media so saigami + project - hey it’s crap but it was never taken

Following: 31........... it’s not you, it’s me. I’m not active here at all. I didn’t even follow my BBB partner here until like the moment we had to post ldjkfsdlfkésd sorry Haley <3

Followers: 734 - is that good? Is that bad? I have no idea, seems like a lot of faith in me even though I sleep on this blog all the time lol sorry and thanks! <3

Average hours of sleep: I can’t answer this question until my lawyer is present....

What I’m wearing: Yellow socks, maroon sweatpants, a blue captain america tshirt and a yellow Yang hoodie. I’m very stylish.

Dream job(s): Doing comics? Oh wait I’m already doing that and it’s not that dreamy lol. Freelancing is not fun. I just want to create sapphic art and comics that aren’t all about business and sales agenda and live on a farm with my girlfriend and have dogs and goats and chickens and other cute random animals and just be happy. <3

Dream trip: Anywhere but here. Anywhere as long as I get to be with Pugoata. Let me go to Maine please 🥺

Favourite food: gyros - not the shitty north american version, the good cheap european shit

Favourite song: honestly it keeps changing depending on my mood. I’d probably go with either the Lakes or Illicit affairs from Taylor Swift right now, but Walking the Wire from Imagine dragons is a contender too

Last book: I’m reading Gideon the Ninth and I already hate everyone who made me read it. And I’m only in act 4...

Top 3 fictional universes: RWBY... apart from that I’m not really in any other fandoms or anything, but if I have to pick others I’ll probably go with FE3H and pokémon? Probably Locked Tomb very soon too, but first I get to experience the infamous pool meltdown in person

Tagging: I dunno who did this already and who hasn’t but I’ll go with @thecousinsdangereux just to show of that I do follow her now sdjklfslkdfs

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jaqdawks · 3 years

Text

I wrote a little short story thing, where these two go shopping lol

Gonna post it cuz why not

Word count - 2308

Trigger Warnings - Mentions to doomsday cult branding and a barely avoided panic attack

Béla pulled up by the bus, right around where Rameir stood in line. He rolled his window down and pointed at him. “Get in loser, we’re going shopping.”

Rameir obliged, glad to have any reason to postpone going home.

The inside of the car was average, other than the steering wheel being on the right hand side of the car.

“Don’t see that every day,” Rameir mused as he got in the back seat.

“Huh?”

“The wheel.”

Béla glanced back at him and then his steering wheel. “Oh, yeah. My mom was pretty determined to keep her old car when she moved from Europe.”

“And she’s giving it to you now?”

Béla shrugged. “It’s old. Anyways, I don’t have anything that’s actually warm enough to keep up with winter.” As the bus started, Béla got around it to pass it. He continued, “So we’re going to the mall.”

“And how come you’re taking me with you?”

Béla glanced at him through the rear view mirror. “I’ve been wanting to get you something decent in your wardrobe for ages.”

Rameir frowned. “I don’t have any money with me.”

“Don’t worry, shit’s on sale right now, it’ll be fine. If you really feel bad about it, we can go by some thrift stores.”

Rameir sat back and shut up for the rest of the drive. He wondered what his parents would think. He called them, but they didn’t pick up. He texted them, but his dad had a rule about calling over texting.

“Got a curfew?” Béla chimed in.

“I’ve never really stayed out before, so my parents never established one.”

“Oof. Okay, we’ll get you home by. . . How far out do you live again?”

“Almost an hour out of town.”

“Fuck,” Béla muttered, “Okay, well it’s a Friday so worst case scenario you can spend the night.”

Béla pulled into the mall’s parking lot and got a space near the entrance. Rameir hesitantly stepped out, leaving his backpack behind.

“You look nervous,” Béla commented.

“I’ve never really been in a mall.”

“Holy shit you are sheltered,” Béla whistled, “This was a good idea. I should have done this sooner.”

Rameir followed him into the building. That smell of money, the kind that’s been all around and smells more like people’s hands than paper, it was as if it hit him in the face when he walked in. Bright displays of makeup and skincare products lined the shelves, Rameir looked over to Béla in confusion.

“This is just their cosmetics floor.”

“There’s several floors?”

Béla responded as if that was obvious, “Yeah, Nordstrom is like, rich as fuck. Anyways this is just one of the convenient entrances, let’s go.”

He led Rameir through the store. Rameir felt a breath of relief when they stepped into the main part of the mall and escaped the white tiles and white floors and fluorescent lights of Nordstrom. Rameir looked out at all the shops, randomly placed indoor benches, and clusters of people walking by.

Béla raised an eyebrow at Rameir’s stare. “Jesus Christ, you really haven’t been in a mall before, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“I should have brought reinforcements,” Béla said under his breath, “C’mon, let’s start at Aéropostale.”

Rameir followed awkwardly behind him, until Béla got fed up with his non-confrontation and backpedaled to walk next to him. Rameir kept his head down as Béla tried to start a conversation with him multiple times.

It wasn’t as long of a walk as Rameir could have hoped.

As they entered the store, a cashier greeted them from behind the counter. The store was mostly empty, other than the occasional teen around their age group hidden behind wracks of clothes.

Béla started towards the back, dragging Rameir along.

They stopped at a table with folds of various shirts on it, and some mannequins behind it. “So, what exactly do you like? And if it’s anything close to what you already wear, I’m gonna invalidate your opinion.”

Rameir looked over the shirts. He hesitantly picked up one with a Polaroid logo on it, and Béla shook his head. “That's extra small. Hold on.” Béla’s hands reached around the back of his collar and flipped over the tag on his shirt. “Okay, medium, right?”

Rameir felt goosebumps prickling up his back.“I guess.”

Béla took the shirt and put it back on the pile, then flipped through it and picked up a different one that was a bit bigger. “Here.”

Rameir took it reluctantly. He stared at the shirts, not quite considering them.

“You look like a deer in headlights.”

“Sorry.”

“You’re not really in your element here, huh?”

“No.”

Béla rested his hand on his hip. “Do you need help picking things out?”

“I think so.”

“Okay, this’ll be fun,” Béla grinned. He picked up a few shirts, some striped, some plain, some with pictures or designs on them. Some he put down after considering them for a minute, some he handed over to Rameir. By the end, they’d picked out four shirts on the sale wrack and one jacket that Rameir thought looked cool.

“Okay, now what?” Rameir asked once they both decided they’d found enough for this store.

Béla motioned to the changing rooms. “Well, go try them on.”

Rameir froze. “What?”

“It’d be a waste if we bought all this stuff and it turned out it doesn’t fit you.”

“I don’t know, I don’t really like, y’know, changing in public.”

“You’ll be alone, no ones gonna see you dude.”

Rameir tensed his fists. “Are you sure?”

“Go ahead. The doors even lock from the inside.” He gave Rameir a gentle push in their direction. “I’m gonna look around for myself for a second. If anything doesn’t fit you, just leave it behind.”

Rameir sighed to himself and took the clothes to one of the rooms.

Of course, there was a mirror right on the wall to stare back at him. He sat the stuff down on the small bench and locked the door behind him. For a moment, he just stared at his reflection, before he frowned at it and slowly took his shirt off.

He avoided direct eye contact at the cult’s brand on his chest as he changed through the different shirts. They all fit fine, Rameir put his own shirt back on and gathered them up and folded them.

He spotted Béla looking through some jackets, and walked over to him with all the stuff.

Béla glanced at the folded pile and then back at the jackets on the wall wracks. “Did you try them?”

“Yeah.”

“They all fit?”

Rameir nodded.

“Great. Just gimme a minute.”

Béla gathered a small pile of stuff for himself together and left Rameir to wait on a bench near the changing rooms. Rameir fiddled with one of the tags and wondered what his parents would think when he came home with shopping bags. He checked his phone, still no reply.

Béla stepped out of the changing room a few minutes later. “Okay, ready to go,” he announced.

They took all the stuff to the cash register, and Béla swiped his card without hesitation.

“How much of that do I owe you?” Rameir asked.

“None.”

Rameir would check the tags at home and figure out how much on his own, then.

They bid the cashier goodbye and left a moment later.

“Levi’s next,” Béla had said, but they stopped at a small shop called Claire’s first. Béla didn’t push Rameir to buy anything, he found a pair of earrings with cherries dangling from them and brought them to the counter. That was all.

When they did get to Levi’s, Béla dragged him straight to the jeans section. Rameir was amazed by a store’s ability to have a whole section for jeans.

“Do you know your waist size?”

“No.”

Béla picked some ripped jeans in various sizes. “Okay, you’ll just have to see what works.” He thrusted several pairs of jeans into Rameir’s arms. “When you figure out which fits, tell me. I wanna see what they look like on you.”

Rameir gave him a puzzled look. “Okay?”

Béla waited by the changing rooms this time. Rameir found it easier to try them on than the shirts—there weren’t any suspicious marks on his legs, after all.

“Got one?” Béla called into the room.

“Think so.”

“Show me!”

Rameir stepped out, feeling not very self confident. Béla took a picture, and Rameir went pale.

“What the hell?”

“Relax. I’m only sending it to Drew, then I’ll delete it.”

Rameir’s stomach did pathetic flips, and his lungs felt too empty. He stepped back into the changing room and covered his face with his hands.

“Are you alright in there?” Béla asked.

Rameir didn’t respond.

“If it’s any consolation, Drew said you look cute.”

Rameir still didn’t respond. He didn’t know why, but he felt so ashamed.

Béla stepped in, Rameir had forgotten to lock the door again. “Hey, for real, you okay?”

“Please get out,” Rameir squeaked in a small voice.

Béla backed off. “Sorry.”

He closed the door behind him, and Rameir sat down on the changing room stool and tried to pull himself together. With a tired sigh, he changed back into his own clothes again and brought the jeans that fit back out.

Béla was having a very quiet phone call with someone when Rameir walked out. He paused mid-sentence, before saying to the person on the other line, “He’s back, gotta go.” He hung up quickly and stood up.

“Who was that?”

“Oh, just my dad,” Béla responded, “Anyways, what’s the waist size?”

Rameir checked the tag. “Thirty by Thirty-two.”

“Cool. Pretty much everything is the same here so, you don’t have to try any other pants on as long as we’re getting them in that size.”

To Rameir, he sounded like he might be stretching the truth. But Rameir didn’t question it. “Alright.”

“Let’s just grab one more, your choice.”

They found something sub par, cargo pants that Rameir could tolerate the color of. It seemed that cargo pants always came in a color that was almost a good shade of brown but not quite there. Béla texted someone quickly, before he left Rameir to sit on his own again.

“If you wanna wander and see anything else you like, feel free. I’m just gonna look around again.”

Rameir didn’t. He sat and tried to get over his feeling of overwhelm. His phone vibrated in his pocket, so he pulled it out to see who was calling. He’d hoped it would be his dad calling him back, it was Drew instead.

Rameir held the phone up to his ear. “Hello?”

Drew’s voice sounded on the other line. “Hi.” Rameir felt like the electrical technicalities of how phones worked didn’t do his voice justice. “Béla said you kind of freaked out earlier, is everything alright?”

“Kinda, sorta.”

Drew waited for him to continue.

So he did. “I’ve just never been shopping before, and it’s a bit much.”

“Yeah, I feel ya. They’re super loud and there’s way too many people.”

“Oh,” Rameir said, “it’s not really crowded right now.”

“You would not enjoy them in the middle of the day.”

Rameir laughed slightly. “Probably not.”

“Sorry if Béla is being a bit intense, too,” Drew rambled on, “He’s kinda. . . passionate about these things.”

“It’s alright.”

“So, how’s the shopping going?”

“I don’t really know what I’m doing,” Rameir admitted, “I usually just got all my clothes from my cousin, sometimes my parents would bring stuff home, that’s about it.”

“Excited about the new stuff?”

Rameir half-smiled. “A bit. I feel bad though.”

“Oh, how come?”

“Well, Béla’s paying for it all, and yeah.”

“Don’t worry about him, he’s got all sorts of reward discounts,” Drew assured him with a hearty chuckle, “He could probably whittle the price of a shirt down to a dollar if he tried.”

Rameir watched Béla take a small stack of clothes into a changing room. “Yeah.”

“I gotta go now. If it starts to get late, you can tell Béla to drop you off with me. I can get my parents to vouch for you not coming home last night.”

“Thanks, I’ll consider it.”

“Alright, goodbye.”

“Bye.”

Rameir clicked the hang up button. A missed call notification popped up from his cousin. Rameir didn’t want to deal with Faust right now, he didn’t call often and he didn’t call with friendly intentions, so he ignored it.

Béla took another moment in the changing room. When he finished, they took the stuff to the counter and left with the things in bags.

“You good for one more stop?” Béla checked.

“Sure.”

They went by one more shop with a name Rameir didn’t bother to read. He got a polo shirt that Béla insisted on, and that was it. He was far more worn out than he thought.

Béla seemed to pick up on this, and made the stop quick.

When they got back out to the car, Rameir was ready to collapse. Béla put their bags in the back. Rameir got into the back seat again and pressed his forehead against the headrest. He checked the time on his phone, it read 17:09.

“So, it’s kind of rush hour,” Béla said as he got into the driver’s seat, “It might take, like, a really long time to get you out to the countryside.”

“Mhm.”

“Wanna go get some dinner and try to wait it out, or should I just take you home?”

“Drew said you could drop me off at his place. So, that, I guess,” Rameir mumbled.

“Alright.”

Rameir sat back and put his seat belt on. Béla started the car and pulled out of the mall parking lot. Rameir tried to call his dad again, to no avail, then texted Drew that they were on their way.

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bellismaperry · 4 years

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TIME COPS [loki fanfic]

NOTES: sup my dudes. this idea for this fanfic has been on my mind since the pictures of Loki as TVA agent were shown. my grammar is not very good my first language is not english but spanish. so if you see a mistake i’m sorry i’ll keep learning as i go. I hope you guys love this story and have a great escape as we wait for that loki trailer and new set pics!! any way enjoy!! Let me know if you want to be tagged for the next chapter!!. <3

SUMMERY: when a witch named sabina is partner with god of mischief to save what we call time. things can only get better or worse. in this case it can be the unknown.

WARNINGS: swearing, mention of blood, death and choking

**PAIRINGS: **loki x main character

**------------------------------------------------------------------ **

**CHAPTER ONE - THE OFFICE **

the cup of coffee that warms my hands and take sips of it as i look around what this people calls office. this place is insane. its like Costco warehouse in drugs. what they do here its not sales or marketing. this is something you see out of a movie

in each desk there was a person with a computer on which they had a case on. you would see them typing like maniacs. In a normal thinking you thought they were working on reports or run downs. But no. they were in fact saving time and keeping it in order. you may ask, where were they when thanos snapped his fingers and half of the universe turned into ash. well same question i have. and i did ask when i was questioned as when i was brought in. the respond that i got was a simple “time will tell”. All this time related shit is staring to annoy me. real hard.

I’m doing what we call in earth community service. i didn’t commit any type of crime whats so ever. i’m here cause the dick bag of my dad decided he was some type of thanos wanna be and tried to mess with dark power and messed up time. now, they couldn’t get there hands on him since he clothed himself so they got the next big thing, me. yay. iv’e never met the man, he left mom and me when i was three years old. not even a photograph i have. yet they think that i can be a tool on bringing him in. i personally don’t know were the accusing me of his crimes fits in you’re going to help us bring him in. but when you see the things they can do with just a wave of their hand. you will comply.

so i sit in my sad desk. my computer is shut down, they yet given me a case. it’s been over a month since been here. all i do is sip my coffee and see my surrounding, i can’t use my magic, the silver bracelet in my right wrist is the cause of that. well here i can’t use it. but in the ‘apartment’ they gave me i can. its the only time i’m bored to death. i only sleep 2 hours if i’m being honest, if i can find my dad faster than they can, then the faster i can get out here and forget all of this. I tried every location spell i know of memory and none were successful. the scars in my hand of the many times i had to cut my hand for blood its stupid. but you are forced out in the way i was and put here to listen and comply like a dog then you will too do anything you can to get out of here. what ever spell he used to hide is a really damn good one. but without my book of shadows theres not many things i can do.

right now it was 12 of clock. in which indicates lunch time. theres a cafeteria were all the employe’s go to eat lunch. i for one enjoy going to lunch. its the onetime where i’m not bored. plus in the month that i have been here i have made a friend. Carlos is a tan guy with brown eyes and hair with glasses. he is funny and occasionally a little paranoid. he was the only one who sat with me in my fist day here. now we laugh about the stupid things people do here and all. the good gossip about who had sex with who.

i sit down on my usual table and Carlos comes with his tray of food. “hey sab, how was you’re day is going”

I sigh and start playing the jello i had in my cup. “same old same old. bored to death and no case it all. you know i’m starting to think that all of this community service is a bunch of bullshit. how can you not made me do anything but drink coffee for a whole month.”

Carlo nods “it is fishy. did you ask commander about it?”

“i did and he said. that soon he will have a task for me and that for now enjoy my free time. whatever that means.”

commander was like the manager here. he orders us around and set the missions or cases. he was the one who questioned me when i got here. blue eyes blonde hair and pedo mustache. the boss, is unknown. no ones knows who he is, or has ever seen them only commander.

Carlos looks to his sides and leans over the table “ I wasn’t going to tell you until i confirmed it was official. but what you just said confirmed it. that soon can be as early as tomorrow. I heard from special forces they have a big mission two hours from now. the orders is to maintain and obtain. and according to my friend what ever they obtain there going to give it to you. its something about you have some same abilities like the thing there were going to obtain”

i lick my lips “ are you sure about that”

he nods. whatever they were going to obtain was magical for sure. something that has same abilities as me? what that could possibly be.

“then i guess i have to prepare” i say as i take of spoonful of the jello and eat it.

“sab please promise me that you will actually sleep more than two hours. you will need you’re strength for whatever this is.” carlo pleads.

i shake my head. “I can’t promise you that. I’m going to do one last location spell with a combination of a reverse cloaking spell. I think this time will work”

“can’t you do that the day after tomorrow. you need to sleep sab and to top all you will need use you’re magic for whatever their going to give you. if you don’t have strength you could die of that over using power” he worries

“don’t you think i know that. I have studied this since i can talk. i know what i’m doing. I need to do this tonight, i don’t if i’m going to be able after they give the task. I promise after this no more.” i take his hand and squeeze it. he cares for me and i for him. he’s the only person who has helped me here. Carlos is like brother to me people like him don’t come often.

“you better sab. I worry for you and you know that” he says with still worries in his eyes.

I smile and let of his hand. “ I know”

**At the apartment **

i sit down at the floor with candle’s around me and map of the world infront of me. i take a knife and slide it across my palm as i let the blood drip on the map, i close my eyes and start my chant. Phasmatos Tribum Nas Ex Veras, Sequita Saguine, Ementas Asten Mihan Ega Petous .

i open my eyes and i see that my blood has not moved it all. I shake my head and try again but the form with of the cloaking spell. I close my eyes once again i take a deep breath and start to chant once again _Phasmatos Tribum Nas Transmata Evo Notus Victus, Pellis Tinctura, Invidium Cala Mactus Sequita Saguine, Ementas Asten Mihan Ega Petous _

once again i open my eyes and i see nothing has happen. “AHH” I yell as i trow one of the candles against the wall. i have tried everything i know by memory. if i can’t find him with my own blood how in the hell they are going to find him. I’m tired of being here. its sad and dark. No windows, only a tv and two rooms a bathroom and a kitchen. i miss my grandma, i miss my life. i’m being used like pawn until they find use of me. I hate it. I hate it so much.

i get up from the floor to walk over to bathroom and clean the new wound i have in my palm. as i clean the cut i start to think what they could have in store of me in just of couple of hours. if carlos was right and this thing was magical it could help me locate my dead beat of a dad. maybe. i take a towel and dry my hands. I look over to the clock on the wall and it reads 1am. at least i will get five hours of sleep this time...

------

in the morning

when i woke up, I sit up my bed and looked my self in the mirror. I am tired, but so tired. Carlos was right. I couldn’t have done that spell i’m way too tired. I walk over to closet and i start putting on the ugly ass uniform they made us wear. who ever told this people that a tie and cream shirt was formal needs to choke on their own spit. I brush my hair and clean my teeth. I move over to the kitchen were i make my self some coffee.

I hear a knock on my door. I sigh and i walk over to open the door. that knock means that it was time to go to “work”. every morning a suit up guards comes here and escorts me over to the office. honestly i don’t mind it. kinda feels like i’m beyonce or something.

i open the door. “ hey Greg. what’s up” i say taking a sip of my coffee

greg smiles and “come on, the commander has a task for you”

I tilt my head. “really?” he nods. “yea, so hurry up.”

I nod my head and close the door behind me. Greg was cool. he’s like the bodyguard type like in the princess diaries that kinds feels like a dad figure. also on Fridays he lets me sleep in an hour extra so he’s tight.

when we arrive to the office and escorted to the commanders office. I open up the door and walk in. the commander looks up to me and smiles.”good morning Sabina. I want you to meet you’re new partner. Mr. Odinson”

I look over to the chair infront of the desk to see a man stand up and turn around to great me and when i saw that man give that smile, i knew.

it was the bitch who destroyed mahattan.

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I hope you liked the first chapter of TIME COPS!!. pls give me some feed back and if you want to be tagged for next time i post pls pls tell me. if theres some grammar errors i am so so sorry i am still learning and my first language is not english.

see you next chapter!!! love you bu’s!! <3

#loki #Loki Laufeyson #loki odinson #lokiedit #loki fanfiction #loki x reader #valkyrie x loki #loki x main character #tom hiddleston #Avengers #time cops #tva #loki series #fanfiction #funny #space travel

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mininky · 5 years

Text

Sweep me off my feet!

Summary: You had managed for almost your entire life to build up your walls and remain in the comfort of your own little world until one man stumbled into your life and changed everything. You never would have guessed that one of your clients would change your entire world, but the world works in mysterious ways. This is the story of how you fell in love with Kim Namjoon, the eclectic tattoo artist who frequented your book store.

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader

Warnings/Genre: Fluff, smut. Contains explicit sex scenes including oral sex (female receiving) and safe sex. Non smut warnings for mentions of divorce/broken homes, cheating. Also a non smut warning for tooth rotting fluff and Jin being the sassy sidekick we all need.

Word Count: 14.6K

A/N: To the lovely anon who asked me ages ago for a story about Namjoon and the reader finding love after heartbreak here it is! I know this isn’t a college AU but I hope you’ll love it all the same.

There's something about the smell of books that's rather intoxicating. It's almost an aphrodisiac if you will. At least for you, it is. But perhaps that's because it invokes this sense of nostalgia and comfort to you, mixed with a dash of intrigue and mystery. New books are nice, but it's the old ones that really get you. The smell of worn pages, broken down oils and breaking glue. If you could bottle it in a perfume you would. Or hell, turn it into a candle. Perhaps that's why you enjoy coming in to work so much. The scent hits you every time you step inside just as vanilla wafts through a bakery in your old used bookstore.

It was once owned by your Grandfather, and a few years ago he left the store to you after he passed away. The store in itself is a sacred place for you. It isn't just about the legacy left by him or the fact that you technically own it now and it's your only source of income. The store, that goes by the very uninspired name of 'Used Books and Restoration', is also home to some of your favorite memories. It's a place of salvation, a place that called your name openly even in your darkest of times.

While some might assume that your main bread and butter for the business is the actual selling of books where you make almost all of your profit is off of restoration and collectible books. Restoration isn't an easy process by any means. It takes considerable effort and precise work, along with plenty of patience. But it's absolutely worth it to see those old books come back to life yet again. Luckily you've gained a reputation just as good as your Grandfather in the collectible book community. It also doesn't hurt that book repair is a rather niche market and therefore there's very limited competition in the area. It's gained you a core clientele, and while you appreciate all of your customers there's one, in particular, that you like best.

Kim Namjoon. An eclectic collector with a voracious appetite for books of every and any genre. While you've never actually seen it you're sure that his home boasts an impressive private library considering the catalog that he's brought in for restoration as well as purchased from you. He moved into town a few years ago after starting the tattoo shop right by you and he's been a customer ever since. You've given up on trying to figure out his favorite genre. He reads everything. And you do mean everything. He even once purchased an Amish romance book from you along with Egghead by Bo Burnham, a book about the mythology of sex, a guide to soapmaking, a calligraphy book, and a book on education in the era of segregation. In the same purchase. It might go down as one of your oddest assortments you've ever rung up together. And not one of those was a gift.

He's also brought in plenty of books for you to restore, never even blinking at the hefty price tag. While most of your restoration work is usually for much older books (usually collectibles) that require very delicate work, it's not unusual for him to bring in ordinary but very roughed up books that he's somehow accidentally destroyed. Broken spines. Pages falling out or ripped apart. At first, you thought that he was just careless with his books, but after having him in your store enough times you know that the honest truth is the man might possibly a god of destruction. Or at the very least he's been cursed with terrible luck. He once knocked over a small table and when trying to set everything up right he managed to knock down an entire bookcase. In the middle of helping you pick everything back up his glasses fell off and he then stepped on them. You were convinced that Ashton Kutcher was about to pop out and that the show Punked had risen from the ashes. But no, Namjoon is just genuinely that clumsy. It's equal parts adorable and terrifying.

Today is luckily one of those days where you're blessed with an interaction sans destruction with Kim Namjoon. Like clockwork, he always pops in on Tuesdays and Fridays in the late afternoon, but for once he's slightly off schedule as he strolls in on a rainy Thursday morning. His normally sunny demeanor and friendly dimples are replaced with a pensive atmosphere, eyes trained on his phone as he tries to close his umbrella single-handedly before he begins wrestling with the contraption.

"You're in early. Are you looking for something in particular today?" You pour yourself a cup of coffee when the machine beeps, stirring in some crappy powdered creamer as you glance in his direction.

"Nah, I'm actually just trying to escape the rain. I left my keys back at home so Yoongi, the other owner, is going to lend me his keys once he gets here. I hope you don't mind me waiting it out in here." He gives a shy smile, pushing his glasses up his nose as he avoids eye contact.

"Not at all, it's raining cats and dogs out there. Why are you going in so early though? I thought you guys didn't open up until noon?" You try not to wince too noticeably as you feel a taste bud singe off from the coffee.

"...An...old friend of mine is coming down to get a tattoo touched up so I'm coming in early just for that." You don't miss the pause he takes, but you don't want to pry. Instead, you pull out another mug from under the counter and start pouring him a cup.

"Well, in that case, I would highly recommend a nice warm cup of coffee before you begin for the day. Do you like cream or sugar?"

"Both please, unless it's flavored creamer then I'll do just that." He seems to relax a bit, walking a bit closer to where you're making him a cup as he finally stops wringing his hands.

"Nope, it's the cheap stuff. I'm too lazy to go all the way in the back for creamer every time I make a cup if I'm honest." You pour in a bit of creamer and sugar before handing it over to him. Upon closer inspection, he looks exhausted. Bags under his eyes, hair a little messier than usual, skin lacking it's usually glowing complexion. Before you can even begin to ask about it, however, another client comes in.

"(Y/N)! I found an old leather-bound edition of Sherlock Holmes at a garage sale, but it's in terrible shape. I was wondering if you could work your magic-oh hey Namjoon!" You glance between the two customers. You're kind of surprised they know each other, but then again she does work just down the street at the publishing house.

"Oh, hey. How have you been?" Namjoon smiles down at her, but it's rather hollow. All of his normal fun seems to have been sucked right out of him.

"Oh you know, just trying to pack still. I know Yoongi had the bigger place so it made more sense, but man does being the only one to pack suck." She fumbled around in her bag for a second before pulling out the book she mentioned earlier and handing it over to you carefully. "I know, it's terrible. But I figured if anyone could fix it, you could. What do you think?"

"Hmm...well it's not going to be easy. The spine is broken, multiple pages are coming out, I'm sure some are torn. But I'm sure that I can get it done. Give me about a week, I should have it ready by then. I'm guessing it'll be at least $250, it might be more. You good with that?" You try to look over the book as gingerly as possible. The poor thing has certainly seen better days.

"Yeah, that sounds great! Oh, shoot! I'm going to be late. I'll see you guys later, thanks again (y/n)!" You wave to her as she peels back into the rain. The lack of her presence leaves the two of you in silence, save the occasional sounds of slurping coffee and the quiet jazz music you have playing in the background.

"I've been meaning to ask you, but what's with the elevator music?"

"It's a bookstore, all bookstores play coffee house music."

He snorts at your response, and you try not to dwell on the automatic smile it brings to your lips. "Don't you ever get tired of it?"

"Sure, when I do I'll put on classical. I like when it's just background music, it makes it easier to focus. Besides, that's how my Grandpa always had it. For the longest time, he refused to put in a sound system. Instead, he'd have his old record player here at the front. I still feel kind of bad about convincing him to replace that, but it's so much easier this way."

"Your Grandpa owned this place?"

"Oh yeah, for as long as I can remember."

"And he left it to you, not to your parents?" Namjoon's head is tilted, eyes showing open curiosity before he sees the way you shut down. Your body grows rigid, eyes staring straight into your cup. "Sorry, I didn't mean to pry."

"It's okay. Family isn't always easy, you know?" You glance up to see the solemn nod he gives before he pulls his phone out of his back pocket.

"On that note, I've gotta run. Thank you for the cup of coffee, and for letting me chill in here for a bit." You give a quiet goodbye as he leaves the store. While you don't actually know him that well, you hope that whatever it is that's weighing him down is resolved quickly and easily for him. It's a little worrying to see someone who's usually so chipper being so glum.

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

You hate that you've grown so concerned over a customer. This isn't exactly a job where you can count on people coming in like clockwork, but Namjoon was one of the few exceptions. And perhaps that's why after two weeks of not seeing him you've started to worry over him. It takes that two-week mark for you to finally muster up your courage and march into his tattoo shop. While you've of course walked by many times, you've never actually gone in. It smells like lavender essential oils and a citrus cleaner, the atmosphere is also far more relaxed than you anticipated. "Oh hey, you're the book store lady. I can't believe you actually managed to fix that Sherlock Holmes book." Your head whips around to the front counter to see a man you vaguely remember, Yoongi you think is his name. He must be the one dating your editor client.

"Oh it wasn't that hard. I've seen far worse. Um..." You can feel your fingers instinctively curl up and pull your sweater lower until they cover your hands before you take a deep breath. "Is Namjoon here by any chance?"

"Namjoon?" There's a twinkle in Yoongi's eyes as he leans into the counter. "Nope, sorry doll. It's his day off. Why? You interested in getting a piece done by him?"

"Oh, uh no. Not that I don't like tattoos, I just don't have anything I'm currently interested enough in to commit to. It's just that...well he hasn't stopped by in the shop for a couple of days and I'm just a little concerned. Is he doing ok?"

"He's going through a bit of a rough patch, but he'll make it through." You can tell that he's clearly analyzing you, the way his eyes narrow and his head tilts. It feels like a very silent interrogation is going on in his head right now, and you aren't a fan of it at all. "I'll tell you what though doll, I'll let him know you stopped by."

"Oh, no need. I just figured I'd pop in since you guys are so close to my shop. Well...have a nice night."

"You too, don't be a stranger! Pop in anytime!" You give a fleeting smile before turning around and try to not run straight out of the shop. You suppose that things could have gone worse. But now your curiosity is in overdrive. What rough patch exactly is he going through? Then again, it's none of your business.

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

You'd like to lie and say that after another month passes by Namjoon has vanished from your thoughts, but that's not true. You can't help but wonder from time to time, especially when you're putting away new inventory, what he's been up to. It's just unsettling having someone come in so often and then almost drop off the face of the earth. It has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that you no longer get a chance to check out his very cute butt a few times a week. Nope.

When Namjoon does finally wander back into the shop you're startled into complete non-action. What do you say? 'Hey, I hope you've been okay and I know that we don't actually know each other but I'm concerned?' Might come off as creepy, best to just leave it be. So after a moment of staring at him with wide eyes, you manage to croak out a horribly high pitched, "Hello!"

You'd like to say that he walked in with this glowing aura as if the room lit up around him like some terrible rom-com. But honestly, he looks like he was hit repeatedly with bad news. His eyes are dark and puffy, his skin is a bit of a mess, his hair looks somehow both dry and greasy. The poor man just looks god awful. "Hey. Sorry I uh...haven't been in." He won't look at you, his eyes cast stubbornly on the floor as he shoves his hands in his pockets.

"No worries. Anything in particular you're looking for today?" You would really like to ask him what the heck is going on to make the usually well put together Namjoon look so haggard, but you don't want to cross any boundaries.

"Nah. Just...browsing..." His words trail off as he shuffles over to the nearest aisle, and you try not to stare as he starts thumbing through a few books. You also try not to dwell on the surge of warmth that spreads through you at seeing him again.

You busy yourself with placing price tags on your new inventory as he continues his quiet search. You try to arm yourself with safe small talk you might be able to make before he finally comes back up to the counter with an arsenal of books under his arm that clatter down with soft thuds as they slip out right before he could safely place them. "Ah, sorry about that." He rearranges the books, eyes cast downwards as you shoot him a soft smile.

"Don't worry about it. So...how have you been?" This time it's your turn to keep your eyes glued on the books instead of on him. God, you normally weren't this nervous but somehow seeing him again after so long is making you a smidge antsy.

"Busy I guess. Sometimes I wish the world would just stop spinning for a moment so I can collect my thoughts, you know? It's like you think you have it together and bam suddenly you don't."

"Yeah, I get that feeling. Adulthood is lame, why did we think it was a good idea as kids?" Namjoon snorts and this time you do look up. God he really does look haggard, the poor thing. "But you know what people don't say enough? It's okay to feel lost, it's okay to feel like things are moving while you're stuck. As long as you acknowledge it you can start moving forward. One step at a time. Don't think you have to move to the world's pace. Just move as you can and you'll do great."

"I could have sworn this was a book store and now I'm starting to feel I should pay you like a therapy fee or something." This time he cracks a smile, his face lighting up as his dimples shine and his smile reaches all the way up to his eyes. It's a good look on him, and you wish that whatever it is that's got him down will be solved soon enough so he can get back to his normal smiles more often.

"It's a free service for my regulars. But I suppose that means that you'll have to pop in regularly again if you don't want the charge."

"Scouts honor, I promise I'll be back." He clears his throat after running his card, hands toying with his bag before he speaks again. "I...uh...Yoongi told me that you popped in. Sorry, for....um...being MIA. And I appreciate that you...uh...noticed I guess. God, fuck. I really can't talk today. What I'm trying to say is...I mean I know I'm just a customer or whatever but I really appreciate it. I'll...see you soon." Before you can respond he's rushing out the store, leaving you with rosy cheeks and lower lip stuck nervously between your teeth.

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

Namjoon stays true to his word. While he isn't as frequent as he once was you've noticed that his visits are usually longer now. In all honesty, you suspect that at this point he visits more for the chats than the books. Or perhaps that's just what you're hoping for, because honestly whenever you do get a chance to speak with him it becomes the highlight of your week. He's witty, kind, and there's something about the way how he can go back and forth between being articulate and eloquent with his words to bumbling around that's utterly charming.

Your conversations usually revolve around life itself. It never gets too personal, details are never mentioned. It's more about the intricacies of how things work, of how life moves. Sometimes you come close to asking him for more details, asking him more closely what's going on but something always holds you back. Perhaps it's because you're so deeply private, you understand what it feels like to want to hide your wounds from others and you certainly don't want to make him feel as though he's been forced into telling you anything. Besides, it's comfortable this way. It's natural for the two of you to fall into these deep conversations without worrying about prying into each other. It's as if the two of you have been friends for ages without having to delve into all the subtle meanings that might lay behind some of the world-weary cynicism in your conversations.

Every once in a while you want more. If nothing than to help ease the burden that seems to be superglued onto his shoulders. There might also be some...more carnal...reasons behind that, but you'd rather not dwell on that. You're not even sure if he thinks of you as a friend yet, let alone as a possible romantic suitor. Jesus, maybe you should stop reading all those historical romance novels if you're saying things like "romantic suitor." Who are you kidding, they're too good to stop reading. But try as you might every time your brain thinks about going further or entertaining the notion of asking him out suddenly everything shuts down and all your senses get crossed until you're mute or stumbling over your words. But you're safe in this acquaintanceship, and crossing the line is scary and means for rejection. So for now, you'll remain in the comfort of safety.

------------------3 months later-----------

"Did your boyfriend come and visit you again today?" Jin has a shit-eating grin on his face before he blows his straw wrapper at you. You're already regretting agreeing to being dragged out of your sanctum and into his competitor's restaurant for this. You love Jin, you do. He has luckily calmed down as he's gotten older, but let's just say that you've bailed him out of jail more than once in college from some crazy nights. He is a man of impulse, and usually spending time outside with him leads to you turning into full blast mom mode.

"How many times must I tell you that he is not my boyfriend." You ball up the wrapper and throw it at his face before promptly resuming your perusal of the menu.

"Please, whatever. You want to kiss his face, admit it, love. Wow. How are they my competitors? Do you see this shit? This is pretentious for the sake of being pretentious. I'm sure it'll taste like shit."

"It better not for the price. My god, $35 for lobster ravioli? I saw it come out earlier, they only had five on a plate! You can't even justify that by saying 'portion control.'" You're praying that by fueling his need to shit talk the restaurant will keep him off track of your desolate love life. Unfortunately, as you're speaking the waiter comes over. Well isn't that just your luck.

"I can assure you ma'am while it might seem expensive for the size we only use the freshest ingredients. All of them are locally sourced."

"And which vendors exactly do you go through?" Jin squints at the server with a fire in his eyes that the server clearly wasn't prepared for. Oh, this poor, poor soul. He has no clue just how deep of shit he's landed himself in and you can tell he's floundering for a moment as his eyes go wide and shoulders grow rigid.

"You know sir, I don't know all of the vendors' names off the top of my head. But I'd be more than happy to ask the chef for you if you'd like?"

"That would be wonderful. Thank you, what a peach you are in such an...interesting...place." Jin gives a wide smile, one that channels his inner Cheshire cat plotting nefarious outcomes as you sink further into your seat. You love Jin, he is your best friend after all, but you know that look all too well. Competitive is putting it lightly. Sinister is a slightly more apt description and you want nothing more than to dive under the table before he begins to wage war. You had, for whatever naive reason, believed that he would have remained in perfect behavior so as not to blow his cover. Clearly, he had no cover and most likely wanted the head chef to know he was here. Goodbye, peaceful night.

You watch the server turn on his heels and quickly stride back towards the kitchen. "Now things are getting interesting."

"Jin no."

"Jin, yes."

"Jin..." You try pleading, eyes turned up into maximum puppy capacity but he's long since been impervious to your charms and instead, he just winks at you. You fight the groan bubbling up in your chest as your shoulders sag in defeat.

"I promise love, this'll be quick and painless. I wouldn't drag you in here without a master plan and so far it's going just swimmingly. Although I would just adore it if the boy making eyes at you from the bar would come over because he is one tall slab of fine and it's a damn shame that he isn't looking at this world-wide handsome face over here because oh honey the things that I would do to him." Your face involuntarily jerks in the direction of the bar only to see Namjoon perched on a stool with a glass of wine looking right back at you. You can feel heat rising up on your cheeks when Jin picks up your hand and forces you to give a wave. And much to your surprise, you see him smile. A genuine smile. The kind that flashes his pearly whites and dimples and has your heart melting and brain overheating.

You aren't sure if it's to your relief or disappointment that the server comes back at this time, now with the head chef in tow. "Good evening, I heard you have some questions for-Seokjin." The chef's eyes narrow on Jin's, a crackle of indignant energy fills the area.

"Why hello Kihyun. According to your lovely server, everything here is locally sourced."

"You already know that. We use the same vendors."

"Why yes, yes we do. And yet you still charge your poor customers an arm and a leg for subpar slop."

"Please Seokjin, it's just not agreeable to hear someone talk down about their own food that way." Jin cackles loudly at this, the sound of windshield wipers roaming in the distance as you glance back to see Namjoon watching the battle with open curiosity.

"Oh please little man, my food is good and you know it. I just came here to check how the competition is doing seeing as you did the same just last week." You watch the chef sigh wearily as he rubs at his temples while Jin rails on. "What, did you think I wouldn't know? I think it's only fair to return the favor."

"Fine, I'll make you a deal so long as you keep quiet."

"Mum's the word, tiny chef."

"And stop making short jokes." His eyes narrow on Jin as he carelessly throws up his hands as if to admit defeat. "I'll be bringing out our specials momentarily. Only our best for our 'esteemed' guest." You can almost feel the animosity rolling off him in waves as he finger quotes 'esteemed' before stomping off.

"Well, now that worked out just swimmingly. While we wait for our food how about you go mingle with mister tall dark and handsome?"

"That's Namjoon, my customer." You dodge a shot of water from Jin's mouth before scrambling when he gets ready to stand up. "No Jin, no no no no no. I beg you, please for the love of all that is holy don't. I can see you scheming and I've been through enough shenanigans thanks to you tonight."

Ever so slowly he sits back down, but not without giving you a face that lays somewhere between a scowl and a pout. "Fine, ms. party pooper, I won't go. Under one condition and one condition alone. You are in serious need of taking out that stick that's been shoved up your ass for the last 20 something years. So I will only agree to be the polite good boy you so desperately wish I was in public if you go over there and ask him out."

"What? I can't do that! He's my customer, that...that crosses the line. And besides, he most certainly doesn't see me that way. I don't think he even sees me as a friend. An acquaintance at best. And another thing! I most certainly do not have a stick shoved up my ass, you just put caution to the wind far too often for your own good!" You're trying your best to calm your frenzied nerves by taking in slow steady gulps of air.

"Do people look at mere acquaintances like they're a slab of steak after not eating for a day? And yes, yes you do have a stick shoved up your ass! I love you kid, but you are pedantically logical to a fault. You overthink, over analyze, and you rarely try to force yourself outside of your comfort zone even if it means sacrificing possible happiness all for the sake of not possibly facing rejection. As your best friend of over a decade, I refuse to continue sitting idly while you continue to ruin possible chances of intrigue. Besides, sitting with you at this rate is going to give me indigestion." Jin takes a swig of his water before narrowing his eyes on you as if to say 'try me bitch, I dare you.' He's right. You really wish he wasn't, but damnit he does actually have a point. Not that you'll ever admit that.

Fuck, you really wish that you could knock back a stiff drink before this. Okay, just calm down. What's the worst that could happen? You could be rejected, laughed at, and have your heart ripped from your chest and stomped on. But according to Jin, that's not that bad. Not that he's giving you much choice. So here goes nothing. You take a deep breath and march over before Jin can pick you up and hurl you into the direction of the bar.

"Hi, mind if I join you for a drink?" Act normal, act cool. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. You've got this.

"Oh, not at all. Please." Namjoon gives you another smile, and you take a moment to glance at his profile. He looks better today. Gradually he's been getting his old color back. You can hardly make out the bags under his eyes in the dim mood lighting of the restaurant. "What do you drink?"

"Hm, oh well..." Your eyes dance over the spirits lining the back. Jesus, they don't even have jack. They have plenty of brandy though. "I guess I'll have whatever you're having. Mix things up a bit, you know?"

He perks a brow up at you before waving over the bartender who's clearly been waiting patiently on the side. "I'll get two more." It's only a moment before a short glass of brandy is placed in front of you. You eye it for a moment before knocking it back, ignoring the burn that tears through your throat.

"Jesus, rough day?" Namjoon's brow is quirked as he motions at the now empty glass.

"More like a rough night."

"Boyfriend problems?" Namjoon jerks his head back to Jin and you can't help but let out a loud laugh. The kind that sounds more like a cackle, a deep snort from the back of the throat and all.

"Jin? No, god no. He's a friend. Also, he plays for the other team."

"Oh, oooh!" He seems to relax at this revelation, sinking into his seat a bit more before sipping at his drink. "Well I'm sorry that you've had a rough night, maybe the liquor will make it better."

"How about you Joon? Things going okay for you lately?" You try not to stare openly, instead gauging his reactions with a side-eye. He gives a simple shrug, running his hands through his hair before knocking back the rest of the drink.

"Who knows. But I'm taking it one day at a time as a wise birdy once suggested."

There's a lull in the conversation for a moment as you try to mull over what to say next, head swimming through all your possible small talk cards but none seeming right for the situation. "So-"

"Um!" The two of you stop, Namjoon giving a small chuckle. "Sorry, go ahead."

"Oh! Uh...I was just going to ask if you wanted to talk about...you know...whatever has been going on. It might help to open up."

Namjoon pauses, shifting a bit in his seat as he slowly nods. "Ex drama? I guess? That makes it sound so high school." He gives a deep sigh, his hands gripping around his empty glass before slowly continuing. "I was engaged last year. We'd been together a long time, we'd even lived together for a couple of years. But after we moved out here or I don't know maybe even before that she decided that she needed to get a feel for other things. And by other things I mean other dicks. I learned that lovely fact when I walked in on her and some random dude who turned out to be her longtime side-piece or whatever. She came back into the shop a few months ago begging me to start over with her. And I don't know why but I thought maybe this time we could make it work, maybe this time things would be right. Her old habits didn't die though. So we ended things about a month back officially, this time for good."

After a decent pause you finally pipe up, your earlier hesitance now masked with the alcohol that's slowly working through your brain. "She's an idiot. And a bitch. I say fuck her! Wait no, not like 'go fuck her' but as in I wish to acquaint her ass with a rusty sword." The full belly laughter he gives is worth your blunder with words. He lights up, and the sound has blood rushing to your cheeks.

He wipes away a stray tear as he swivels around to face you. "Thanks, I appreciate that. And please, remind me to stay away from rusty swords if I ever accidentally piss you off. I've gotten a lot of advice from people recently, a lot of 'it'll get better' or 'she was wrong' but I think my favorite is the depiction of a rusty sword so thank you for the laugh."

"No problemo, I'm here to help even if that means with impromptu comedic relief." Again silence returns, but this time it's comfortable. It almost always is around him, as if Namjoon brings peace and comfort to you every time you see him. It's safe around him. Safe to be you, safe to just relax. You aren't used to that, most men make you feel on edge. As if you have to be two steps ahead. Perhaps it's due to your mutual problems with the opposite gender. Or maybe it's just his personality.

"Hey..." His quiet voice pulls you out of his thoughts and you jerk up to see his eyes cast stubbornly on the floor. "Feel free to say no or something but um, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to get out of here with me? Maybe just walk around the city for a bit or something?"

"There's a park a couple of blocks down from here actually, it's usually pretty quiet and there's even a little koi pond. Oh! But we'll need to pop into the grocery store to pick up lettuce first."

"Can...can koi fish eat lettuce?"

"Oh yeah! They love greens! I used to feed them bread but I found out it's hard for them to digest. They also really like garlic and shrimp."

"I...I don't know what to do with this information."

"Use it for the powers of good, and to keep Koi fish happy. So what do you say? Wanna go feed some Koi fish lettuce?"

"Yeah! Yeah, oh but shouldn't you tell your friend?"

You glance back at Jin to see him in the middle of what appears to be an amicable discussion (at least from the outside) with the head chef. You choose to send off a quick text while Namjoon slaps down a few bills, "done. Let's go!"

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

It's not long before the two of you are tossing off bits of lettuce to hungry Koi fish. It was most likely an odd site for others to take in. The two of you were silently standing in front of the pond, taking turns tearing off strips from a head of lettuce and sipping from a dangerously cheap bottle of sangria. It didn't help that this area of the park had dim, ominously flickering lighting making the whole thing look stranger. Yet neither of you seemed to mind.

It was oddly relaxing being here. The silence wasn't uncomfortable, it was actually heart warming. There's always been something about Namjoon's presence that's left you feeling fuzzy and floating. As if cocooned in safety under a pillow fort with plenty of blankets while a blizzard rages outside. Your eyes are trained on the Koi fish that jump up, gulping up the pieces of lettuce greedily and illuminated in the fluorescent yellow lighting cutting in and out every few seconds.

"These guys really know how to eat." You glance up at the sound to see Namjoon smiling as he throws in another strip of the leafy greens. "I should have guessed that of all people you would be the one to take me to the middle of nowhere in a city just to feed fish at nearly midnight."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"It is indeed. Do you know why I love going to your bookstore so much? I never know what I'm going to find. You always have an odd assortment of treasures but you also seem to know all of them. I've been inside plenty of bookstores and while they all have their own special ambiance that books tend to carry your's is otherworldly. It's like I step through a portal when I come into your shop. Like all is well with the world. But I'm starting to think it's not about the place. It's you." He glances over to give you a shy smile before quickly returning his sights on the pond.

"Oh, I don't know I think it's probably the store. Maybe it's just rubbed off on me. When I was a kid I would try to spend all my time there with my grandpa. It was a safe haven, this little chunk of the world where I knew I could always get lost and find freedom even if the world was falling apart outside."

"That sounds really deep for a kid. I guess it's my turn to ask, do you want to talk about it?"

You take a moment to pause, sipping on the acidic sangria before nodding slowly. You suppose it's only fair to share just as he did. "My parents should have gotten a divorce way sooner than they did. The vast majority of my childhood is a blur of trying to run away from their fights. It never got physical, but the verbal abuse the two of them flung at each other was astronomical. I can remember distinctly thinking once as I read a book that had these lovely happy parents that that was the most fictional part of the whole thing. Harry Potter was more likely to be realistic than that bullshit. I think when I was thirteen and I got asked out for the first time I told the poor boy that love was a scam and I wasn't about to fall for it. I've tried dating a few times but I always think back on my parents and before things can ever progress I try to leave. I guess you could say I have commitment issues to everything in life but work. Jin, the guy at the restaurant, he's always trying to get me to loosen up. Have fun. But I just feel like it's all pointless. Why bother when it's all going to fall apart anyway?"

You let out a heavy, world-weary sigh out before chucking the last bit of lettuce into the pond. Namjoon gives you a moment of silence, either to be polite or to gather his thoughts. Or perhaps you've scared him off. You're not really sure of the reasoning behind his muteness but you're too lost in your own thoughts to dwell on it.

Finally, Namjoon takes a deep breath and says, "I'm sorry that you went through that. I know it might sound absurd coming from me, but what's so bad about believing in romance? In the fairy tale ever after? In believing that sometimes things can go right? Maybe I'm a buffoon for still being a hopeless romantic after everything I've been through but I think the saddest part in all of that was that you gave up before you even tried. There's a lot to explore in life beyond your comfort zones. It might not always be good, but I think that's the beauty of it. Sometimes the bad makes us appreciate the good all that much more."

You're torn between wanting to stare in awe at him for managing to actually feel this way after everything he's been through and wanting to smack him upside his face and tell him to wake up. But that's the cynic in you speaking. The cynic that awoke in you far too early in life has still after all these years refused to die. If reincarnation is real then perhaps you were fucked over in love previously as well and that's why your feelings are so intense. It's probably just your shitty childhood that you try to avoid remembering at all costs. After a moment of tense silence, you finally speak up. "How...how can you still feel that way?"

"Because the world is a sad lonely place and I want to believe that there's something better out there. I don't mean like soulmates bullshit or anything, just that you shouldn't give up when you find a really good person. Love takes two to tango, and for whatever reason, your parents lost sight of that. But the real fucked up thing is that you still carry that with you as an adult as if it's your burden to carry. But it's not. Imagine if I said that it's my fault I was cheated on, how would you feel?"

"But it wasn't your fault. She was a blind idiot who made terrible life choices."

"Exactly, and it's not your fault that your parents were bumbling idiots who didn't understand how to effectively communicate with one another." He takes a swig of the sangria before hooking one of his arms over your shoulder and you take a moment to admire the inky artwork under the night sky as he lowers his voice. "So you know what I say? It's time both of us stop ruminating in pain. I say we let it all go, right now."

"And how, pray tell, do we go about this?"

"I say we just scream everything out into the night. Just let it all go."

"I'm sorry what?" You squint up at him, your brain freezing as you try to make sense of his therapy method.

"You know, everything we've bottled up just fucking let it out. Let it go. Here, I'll go first." He takes another swig of the sangria before tilting his face up at the moon. "Fuck you, Jessica! Fuck you and your fucking boy toy. I was good enough! I tried so hard to make it work and you still couldn't be bothered to put in any effort! It wasn't fair! And another thing, fuck your stupid fucking mom for always shitting on my tattoos and thinking her bitchy daughter was perfect!" You're quick to plug your ears as he shouts at full volume, eyes scanning the park praying that no one is nearby to call the cops on the two of you. After a theatrical sigh, he turns around, plants both hands on your shoulders as he leans down and says, "Okay kid, it's your turn."

There's frenetic energy hanging in the air and while you want to laugh and tell him this is ridiculous there's something that stops you from holding back for once. So you follow suit and tilt your head up as you begin to scream, "Fuck you dad for placing unrealistic expectations on how women should behave! Fuck you mom for thinking the only thing men were worth was money! Fuck both of you for caring more about fighting than nurturing your only fucking kid! Fuck you for leaving me to fend for myself all the time! I just wanted love from you! I want to fall in love, I want to believe that you two were wrong! I want someone to look at me like I look at the last slice of cheese pizza! I want someone to care about me the way I deserve to be cared for!" By the time you get halfway through your monologue, you can feel a weight shifting off your shoulders. Rather literally as Namjoon plugs his ears, but also emotionally. Spiritually. It's as if something is born in you. As if under all that hate you've held onto for so long there's still that glimmer of hope.

When you've finally stopped screaming, your lungs are on fire and hot tears are trickling down your cheeks. Slowly you begin to hear the sound of Namjoon golf clapping in front of you. "Bravo young grasshopper, bravo. You finally said how you really felt. So tell me, how do you feel now?"

"I...feel different. Lighter. How...how about you Namjoon?"

"Pretty fantastic, but that might be the shitty sangria talking." He gives a wide grin at the giggles that bubble out of you before handing over the sangria.

The rest of the night flies by in a tipsy blur, the two of you talking about life and your own choices and how you've come to your own points in life. Normally you'd have run away by now, but you realized something tonight by screaming out into the void with him. You've always run away, you've refused to face life head-on. It's still a scary thought, but the alcohol numbs it easily and then there's the fact that nothing seems as intimidating when Namjoon's nearby.

---------4 months later-------

It's almost impossible for you to now think of a time when Namjoon was simply a customer and not a good friend. The two of you, much to Jin's delight, are rather inseparable. You have lunch together most days of the week. Sometimes the two of you will hang out and watch movies together, or go back to the park to feed the always hungry koi fish. On a few occasions, Namjoon has even tagged along with you to go bug Jin to feed the two of you. This time though you find yourself without your new partner in crime as you stuff your face with homemade pasta by Jin.

"Please try to breathe in between bites. I don't know CPR." Jin pokes one of your cheeks as you try to quickly chew.

"Sorry I was just really hungry. Also, I have something I wanted to tell you!"

"You finally professed your undying love for Joony boy?"

He quickly dodges the napkin you throw at him before blowing you a raspberry. "No, I told you we aren't like that. But it is about Joon! His parents have a beach house that he wants to go to so he invited us to come over next weekend."

"Oh drat, unfortunately, I have plans."

"That is such bullshit. You were literally just bitching about how you don't have anything to do next weekend because that new boy toy, Jimin or whatever, is going on a trip for work."

"I decided just now that I'm going to go visit Jimin to see his performance. You know, be supportive." He sighs at the glare you send him. "Okay, so I didn't decide that. I'd rather stick my head in my far too expensive convection oven than drive five hours just to get blue balls from watching him dance. But I also refuse to step in the way of what I really hope is time for you to finally get laid."

"I told you Jin, he's just a friend."

This time it's Jin's turn to scoff. "Oh, sure princess. Whatever you say. The two of you basically eye fuck each other every time you come over to steal my food."

"WE DO NOT."

"Do fucking too! What I just don't understand is why you can't admit it. He's a great catch, why are you holding back? You even told me yourself that it was time for you to start moving on with life. You know, get past all of your cynical doom and gloom mentality that everything will inevitably fall apart. So the real question is, why are you holding back from happiness still? Even after all that 'ra ra I'm going to get my shit together' you've been spouting for months now?"

Your anger dissipates quickly, all air leaving your lungs for a moment as you stare at the floor unable to look at Jin's oddly serious gaze. The silence drags on until finally you quietly speak up. "Namjoon just got out of a really serious relationship. Jessica really hurt him you know, it wasn't one of those 'oh we just grew apart' type of situations. And even though he was so broken the first time he tried again and I think that time might have been worse. The first time it seems like he was just angry, the second time was when he felt anguish. I...I don't just like Namjoon. I love him. Every time I'm around him I feel so happy like the world lights up and all the color comes back. It's so easy being around him, I know I can just be myself and I'm safe. But I don't want to throw these feelings at him when he's probably still healing. I don't want to be a rebound. I watched my parents get divorced with each other and jump into relationship after relationship with other people just to fill that void. I want to be more than that. I want this to be something that works for a long time. I'm tired of running from commitment so I've decided I'll wait. I'll wait until he makes a move first."

"Did you never stop to ask yourself if maybe he's waiting for the same thing? I mean honey, it's painfully obvious he feels the same way. He knows that you've never really tried to be in a relationship, he might be waiting for you too. So then what? The two of you just go in circles until someone grows tired of it and leaves? I think it's noble of you to be patient and wait, but I also think that's an easy way out for you. Making the first move is scary, and I think that by saying you're waiting for him to be all healed up you're actually just pushing off the notion of rejection. If you don't say anything then you'll be safe. If you say something you might hear something you don't want to hear. So while I do believe you actually feel that you want to make sure this isn't a rebound, I think that a much larger portion of this is still you just running away."

Jin sighs softly at the crestfallen look that takes over your place, gingerly wrapping you up in his arms before he continues. "Of all the people I've known in life I can't say any of them have been as brilliant, strong, sweet, and funny as you. You're the type of person that when you love you love with all your heart. I just want to see you be happy, I want you to realize that you are worth all the loves and hugs and kisses that you've told yourself are empty and meaningless. It's okay to go slow if you need to, but as your best friend, I'm rooting for you. And as a person who has seen the way that Joony looks at you I feel it's safe to say that you should try moving forward. But I don't want to push you if you're too nervous you know? Just one step at a time kiddo."

Words fail you, as much as you'd like to argue or try to tell him he's wrong he isn't. Jin has always been quick to catch on to these things, and you had a sinking suspicion that he would say something about it all soon enough anyway. You nestle your face further into the crook of his neck and inhale the comforting scent of his fabric softener. After taking a moment to have your two brain cells muster up something to say you simply shuffle away and give him a quiet thank you. The warm smile you receive back in turn is all that either of you need.

-------The next weekend------

You've been through a rollercoaster of emotions in the last week, although the anxiety you've felt has always loomed somewhere on the ride. Sometimes in the front seat, sometimes somewhere in the back just waiting for the drop to happen. Now that the day is finally here the nerves are present more than ever. Somehow everyone else who was invited fell through and it's now just the two of you. The rational, logical side of your brain says that this was extremely last minute and therefore difficult for others to rearrange their schedules to come with. Your gut argued that all the others had decided to give the two of you space. Perhaps to encourage the feelings you've been secretly fostering, and not very well according to Jin.

Namjoon had made the trip out to the beach house before you, thank goodness. The two-hour drive had given you ample time to try to rationalize everything and see all the various possibilities this weekend held in store in the sanctum of privacy. Of course, you've also been doing this all week prior, but on the drive, it went into overtime. The most likely options you foresee from this weekend are:

A. You get up the courage to ask him out and he turns you down flat.

B. You get up the courage to ask him out and he says yes. The two of you ride off into the sunset on the beach where a dolphin will flip over a rainbow and all is well in the world.

C. You fumble awkwardly through the weekend and end up saying nothing.

Strangely enough, while you see option C as being the most plausible, you also want that one to happen the least. At least with rejection, you can move on, in that sense Jin is right. But if you end up missing your chance to shoot your shot you don't know how the game could have ended. By the time you pull into the driveway of the house you've made up your mind. On Monday, right before the two of you leave, you'll say something. You aren't sure how yet, but for once you're just going to put caution to the wind and try not to overthink it. At least that's what you were trying to convey to your measly remaining brain cells.

You take a deep breath and grab your backpack in the seat next to you. It's now or never. Showtime baby. You can do this. You can do this. You can-before you even get a chance to ring the doorbell Namjoon is ripping open the door. His hair looks freshly dried and fluffy. His eyes seem to light up and his pearly whites flash at you as he gives you an excited smile. Fuck. You don't think you'll make it through this weekend sane, not if it's just going to be the two of you. "Hey! Come on in! Make yourself at home!" He reaches down to grab your backpack before his warm hand slips into yours and he's dragging you into the refreshing AC. "Your room is just right over here. The bathroom is next door. I just ordered us some pizza it should be here any minute. I got just cheese for you, I wasn't sure what toppings you like."

His words fly out a mile a minute but your brain trudges through everything slowly, your thoughts are instead focusing on the way his hand feels on yours. They're slightly calloused, much larger than you realized, and painfully perfect. My god, is there anything about this man you don't like? At the realization that you've already entered your room and Namjoon's head is tilted as if waiting for some sort of response you finally manage to spit out, "that's great. Cheese pizza is super great." Get it together brain cells! "Um, this place looks amazing."

"You haven't even seen the best parts yet. It's a shame that none of the other guys could make it, but I'm glad you could come. Going to the beach by yourself just screams midlife crisis and honestly, I don't think I'm ready to be there just yet. I want to get a few more years under my belt before facing an age inspired existential crisis, you know? Uh, so anyway..." His eyes roam around the room before he shoots you another smile, "Do you...do you want me to show you around a bit first or would you rather unpack?"

"Um, I think I'll unpack and then you can show me everything."

"Cool, sounds great. I uh, I'll just go then. But if you need anything just holler!" In a blink of an eye, he's out the door. Leaving you alone with just your sluggish thoughts and backpack.

You weren't really sure why you had told him you needed to unpack. It's not like you were going to be here for more than a few days, so there wasn't much need. And yet here you are, taking your sweet ass time unpacking toiletries and all of the extra underwear you brought with because uteruses can't be trusted. You stare down at the bathroom counter after unpacking the last bits of makeup and skincare products before leaving the room.

You follow the wafting scent of pizza, it looks like somehow you had missed the sound of its arrival. In the fit of nerves earlier in the morning you had opted to not eat, and if the whale mating calls your stomach is making that decision is clearly catching up with you. You find the two pizza boxes right next to Namjoon out on the porch and you waste no time grabbing the largest slice before flopping down next to him.

"It's beautiful out here today. Thanks again for joining me."

"Are you kidding me? I'm getting basically a free vacation to chill at the beach. And I get to spend it with the second biggest book nerd I know. How could I possibly turn down the offer? Thank you for inviting me. I appreciate Joony." You don't miss the way the tips of his ears burn a bright red as he stuffs his face with another slice of pizza. You also don't miss that its fucking pineapple. "Are you really eating what I think you're eating? Please say that this is a mirage."

"What? Pineapple tastes great, especially on pizza."

"My god. I've heard of monsters like you, but I had never believed the myths. I thought...I thought the world just made up your kind to scare children into eating even the crappiest slices of cafeteria pizza at lunch."

"You take that back! Don't you dare call this tastebud explosion of love monstrous! You know what, I bet that you're the type of person who eats mint chocolate chip ice cream. Those are the real monsters."

"HOW DARE YOU! Mint chocolate chip is delicious!" How can someone so handsome, so witty, so great all around have the worst fucking taste in food?

"It tastes like someone fucking smothered good chocolate icecream in toothpaste. And yet you dare desecrate the majesty that is pineapple pizza? Salty, sweet, perfection?" Before you can even respond he's forcing a bite of the vile concoction into your mouth. You have no choice but to chew. Forgive me, father, for I have sinned. "See it's not that-oh my god are you going to throw up?" The heaving noises you make has him quickly rushing next to you, abandoning his evil ways for but a moment as he pats your back soothingly before bursting into a fit of giggles when you finally breathe again.

"'S not funny Joon! Don't you laugh at me!"

"I'm sorry, I swear I'm not laughing at you. It's just...that was such an over the top reaction." He wipes away a stray tear before smooshing your cheeks when you pout at him. "Okay, I promise that I'll never make you eat it again. But you know what I also think? I think we should set our opinions aside and agree that the true evil food is anchovies on pizza."

You glare at him, words coming out wobbly with your lips smushed between his hands. "Thisth isth unfortunately true. Fine, I promisthe I won't bring up your poor tashte in food again under the agreeancthe that anchoviesth on pizza isth the fucking worsht." He stays there for a moment longer before finally dropping his hands from your face.

"Alright well now that's been resolved, what do you say we do after eating? Movie? Beach? Plotting how to take down anchovy pizza lovers?"

"Well, we did come all the way out here. It would be rather ridiculous to not spend time by the beach. Besides, that water looks awfully inviting. Say, what do your parents even do to afford digs like this?"

"Ah, my father is a doctor and my mother is a lawyer."

"Cripes, how did they feel about you pursuing a creative job like tattooing?"

He gives a noncommittal shrug at this. "Not much, they just wanted me to be happy. At first, they thought I should stay in school, but considering I went in for philosophy they quickly decided that this was at least a fruitful endeavor. Besides, I make more than they did at my age and I didn't have to bury myself in debt to do it."

"I can totally see you as a philosophy major. I can't believe I didn't see that sooner. It's cool that your parents didn't shit all over your work though. They sound like good people."

He lights up at this, his eyes twinkling as he regales you with childhood stories and about how he got into the business to begin with. By the time the two of you are full, you feel as if you've learned all about Namjoon's family. His parents were college sweethearts, he's a complete mama's boy, and he has a younger sister he adores who's currently studying abroad as a journalism major. The sun is already beginning to go down, the tide rising up before the two of you trudge back inside to change.

Once you've changed and headed back outside the sky is brilliant shades of creamy oranges and neon pinks that contrast beautifully with the brilliant blue of the ocean. You don't even want to think about how much his parents paid for this view. You also can't even fathom how someone can make enough to afford this as just a summer home. You throw down your towel before quickly stepping into the ocean, relishing the feeling of the chilly water in the sweltering heat before turning around at the sound of Namjoon calling out your name. Good lord, this weekend might be the end of you. You had somehow forgotten that beaches meant shirtless Namjoon. You've seen his sleeves, of course, the left one an intricate Japanese style piece with his right arm covered in various neo-traditional pieces. But what's grabbing your attention now is three things. One: he has very impressive pecs, something you didn't see coming. You had assumed for whatever reason that he didn't have the time to work out. Apparently, you were wrong. Two: He has multiple script pieces tattooed on the sides of his torso. Three: He has a happy trail and your eyes are refusing to budge and you're now openly ogling.

"Say cheese!" Before you can blink he's snapping a picture with a Polaroid. Not one of the newer ones that have come out, no this looks like it was imported straight out of the '70s. He jogs closer to you before wrapping his arm gently around your waist, pulling you in as he angles the camera and snaps another one. You can feel your cheeks heat up at the proximity, your skin tingling under his gentle touch even after he pulls away to run back to the patio and set the old camera safely away from the sand and water. Fuck what are you going to do? Are you really going to be able to make it through this whole weekend without pouncing on him? Is it just you that feels like there's a slight buzz of sexual tension, has it been so long since you've last gotten laid that now you're imagining things?

Your thoughts are spinning around when he returns to your side, your hearing only picking up on the tail end of what he was saying, "-it's going to look great in my scrapbook!"

"What?"

"The pictures. I was saying the pictures came out awesome with the sunset in the background. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just kind of spacey. Carb coma I think. You have a scrapbook?"

"Yup! Ever since my dad gave me his old Polaroid when I was in high school I've kept scrapbooks." This just isn't fair. No grown man should be this cute. If you just take out his terrible taste in food and ability to destroy things just by breathing in its direction he really is perfect. Man, you are so fucked. He really isn't making it easy for you to give up.

"I'd like to see them sometime. The scrapbooks, that is." He lights up at this, nodding animatedly as he wades further into the water.

"Yeah! I mean, they aren't the best done but I like being able to look back on all the fun memories sometimes you know?" This is a good sign right, he's already seeing this as a fun memory. That means he thinks of you positively. Right? This means that your odds may be higher in favor than you anticipated. Maybe.

For the next few minutes, the two of you simply bask in the beauty of the sunset. Jitters seem to fade, your ever-present anxiety even catching the hint and letting you just enjoy the night for a moment. "It's beautiful out here. Thank you again for inviting me, Joon."

"Anytime. I used to come out here all the time. You would think that when I moved closer I would spend more time over here, it's not like I had to drive six hours. But work and life got in the way. And then at a certain point, it just seemed meaningless if I'm just going alone. Of all the people I invited I really just wanted you to come. I felt like you would appreciate the ordinary beauty of it, the simplicity of just wading in the ocean as the moon starts to come out and the stars light up the sky."

"And how exactly did you decide that I, of all people, would appreciate the scenery? You aren't wrong, but now I'm curious." You sink deeper into the water until the waves crash around your waste and you can finally feel relief from the sweltering heat lingering even into the evening.

"Because that's just who you are. You see the extraordinary in the ordinary. It's just the way you operate, I knew that about you the first time you ever fixed up my childhood worn and torn Harry Potter books. Even though they weren't these amazing collector pieces you treated them with such care and brought them back to a state better than brand new. From that moment on I knew that you were the type of person who could appreciate the subtle complexities that make life all that much better. And the more I've gotten to know you the further you've deepened this conviction. I mean who else would take me out to feed koi fish lettuce in a city in the middle of the night? Who else would drive me over an hour to the outskirts just for the best matcha latte they've ever had only to spend more than an hour discussing the process of making it with the owner? Or take me to an art gallery just to tell me about how the janitor deserves more recognition for his street murals? I mean sure, you might have terrible tastebuds and be unable to see the glory in pineapple on pizza, but I'm willing to overlook that character flaw because it's you. Because honestly you could do just about anything and I'd-"

You cut him off abruptly, your lips melding onto his with slightly too much force and knocking you both slightly off balance when the wave hits, the two of you tumbling into the shallow waters. It still doesn't exactly dawn on you what's going on, your brain is still narrowly focused on how soft his lips felt under yours for that nanosecond before you're drawn out by Namjoon's barking laughter.

"I never would have expected you to actually sweep me off my feet. I assumed it was supposed to be hyperbole, not a physical action. I guess I should learn to expect the unexpected with you." Before you can respond, he's hoisting you out of the water and his hands are placed gently on the small of your back as he leans down and places a featherlight kiss on you. It's almost uncertain, a kiss that's testing the waters asking for approval. It's magical, the way he feels against you. It's as if music will start playing and the little mermaid is about to burst forth and congratulate the two of you. The second kiss is firmer, one that you initiate as you tug at his hair and lean up on your tiptoes just to get all that much closer. When you break away for a moment he's quick to pull you back in, and this time you can feel your toes want to curl, your knees go weak and your brain grows dizzy as he nips at your lower lip and his tongue slips into your mouth. You might have to rethink this pineapple business after all.

You've dreamt of this moment a thousand times, wondering from perhaps the moment he first stumbled into your small little shop what he would be like. And yet in all of your various daydreams (and wet dreams if you're very honest) you still never pictured it being so perfect. It's that mix of gentle timidity at the beginning that melds into an all-consuming passion that's just so Namjoon and just so right. It's addictive, a new kind of high you want to chase forever. "I don't think you know just how long I've wanted to do that."

"I really wish you would have sooner, but I'm glad you did now because if I'm perfectly honest I was way too nervous to do it first." He presses his forehead gently on yours as he speaks, his hands moving rhythmically along the small of your back as he holds you tighter. God bless Jin and the others for refusing to come so you could finally have this moment. "So that being said, can I kiss you again?"

"Please do." You're barely louder than a whisper, your eyes focused on the way his lips quirk up and dimples show before he's kissing you again. It's slower this time, longer. There's something more sensual looming underneath it this time. The way his hands pull you in closer, hands gripping your hips tightly. The way your tongues dance together. The feeling of desire coils up in your belly as a soft moan falls out of your lips when his hand roams tentatively lower until he's kneading at the soft flesh of your ass. If there's an award for best kisser then you have no doubt that Namjoon deserves it.

The only thing that breaks the two of you out of your trance is the sounds of a group of people encroaching closer into witnessing what should be private bliss. The two of you glance over to see people setting up a bonfire not too terribly far away before looking back at each other. His hands remain in place for just a moment longer before he reluctantly pulls back and nods his head in the direction of his parent's summer home. "I suppose we should go inside now." His hand laces together with yours when you nod softly, leading you back without an ounce of worry or rushing. It's as if he's silently telling you that the two of you will have all the time in the world. So you reciprocate this possible hidden sentiment with an equally silent agreeance by squeezing his hand a few times.

It doesn't take long for the two of you to hang up your towels and be right back inside. For a moment the silence just hangs in the air, the only noises heard are the distant partiers outside and the hum of the chilly AC when it kicks to life. "So...do you want to watch a movie?" Namjoon's words come out slightly rough and hoarse as if he hasn't spoken in hours.

"Sure, we can do that. Whatever you pick I'm fine with. I'll just go take a shower and change real quick first." What you really want to do is jump his bones and drag him to the nearest soft landing spot. It's been a long time since you've felt lust consume you in such a carnal way. But you aren't sure if he's asking if you want to watch movies for his sake or yours. Perhaps he wants to take things slow. Either way, you figure that if perchance the two of you do decide to do something it might be best to wash off the salty ocean water currently drying out your skin.

It isn't long before you've returned to the living room, this time clad in comfy warm sweat pants and a t-shirt. You find that Namjoon seems to have done the same and is currently lounging on the sofa as he browses through the international movie section of Netflix. If you're honest you're not much of a movie buff, but there's something about how excited he gets about watching obscure indie films from around the world that lights you up inside. "Hey, I'm kind of thinking of watching this one. It's about purgatory but it's not a horror movie, it says it's a coming of age movie."

"A coming of age movie about purgatory, is that even possible?" You slide into the spot next to him on the couch, casting a quirked eyebrow at him before looking back at the screen. "Now I'm curious to see how they work that out. I say we watch it." There's a hum of content that leaves him as he starts up the movie before tossing a blanket over the two of you and bringing you closer to him. He smells like sandalwood and cinnamon, an earthy spicy blend that you inhale deeply as you nestle into his shoulder. You suppose there's a lot that the two of you still need to work out, still need to figure out or actually say. But right now everything feels so right, so cozy. As if the world has finally stopped spinning long enough for the two of you to just enjoy the moment.

One of his arms is wrapped around your shoulders while you lace your hand with the free one. You never noticed before but he has much larger hands than yours. It's comforting in a sense, the feeling of just being in his arms cloaks you with safety and squashes any anxiety. But the desire is still looming in the distance as you take in the sight of him. The domestic side of him you haven't seen often. Freshly showered, in pajamas, his skin glowing with a soft tan and hair drying in floppy waves. It shouldn't excite you this much, but you can still feel the lingering sensation of his hands gripping your ass as his teeth nibble on your lower lip and now you want more. You want so much more. You want to feel him, you want to explore everything he has to offer.

He casts a glance to the side to see you staring at him, a shy smile coming over his face. "Aren't you going to watch the movie?"

"I kind of really want to kiss you again. I think that sounds far more interesting, no offense to the movie or anything." You watch Namjoon's eyes grow wide, his ears burning a bright cherry red as your hand snakes up his neck and you move in closer. "May I? Kiss you that is?" You watch him nod slowly before you inch in closer, your lips slowly melding with his. But you want more, and this peck is just the beginning. When he finally starts to reciprocate you twist and shuffle until you're straddling his lap. There is no uncertainty now, just a needy passion that consumes each movement. His hands begin to finally roam, slowly gliding up the back of your thighs to your ass until the creep forward yet again and he's moving to the hem of your shirt. He breaks away slowly, a thin trail of saliva breaking off as his gaze moves between your lips and your eyes.

"Can I...take off your shirt?" You might have nodded a smidge too enthusiastically if the light chuckle you get in response is anything to go by. But at this point, you're too far gone to care if you look a little needy. Even just the brush of his knuckles against your bare skin as he tugs your shirt up and over feels scorching hot. The way his molten brown eyes take everything in, searching greedily, has your desire spinning further out of control. You can't remember the last time a partner of yours has looked at you this way, as if you're the finest delicacy they've ever seen and they want nothing more than to just dive in. Your lips connect hungrily to his neck as his hands snake up to unlatch your bra.

"You're so beautiful, you know that?" His words are gruff with desire as you tug off his shirt and admire the firm planes of his stomach. For a moment everything stops, the two of you simply drink in the sights of one another until you're back on each other in a frenzy. You aren't sure when or how it happens but it feels like in just a fraction of a second the two of you are finally bare, and now you've twisted around with his face just inches away from your pussy. "I can't wait to taste you, you don't know how many times I've thought of this. How many times I’ve thought of how you’d feel, (y/n). How you’d sound when you moan my name."

His eyes flicker up to yours for a moment as his hands stroke softly at the inside of your thighs. There's something softer in his gaze, something that says while he wants you physically he's also wanted this emotionally for some time. "Please taste me already Joon, I want to feel you already." He gives a small grunt in response before his tongue is licking a wide stripe along your dripping cunt. The sensation has your nerves on fire, your neck falling back into the couch as you grab onto his hair. He moves in a slow, tantalizing rhythm. His tongue delves between your folds and always comes up to plant a smattering of wet kisses on your clit. Each brush of his tongue has you moaning, each time his teeth scrape by with just enough pressure you can feel that familiar coil wind tighter. "Fuck, you're really good at this."

It shouldn't be legal for your heart to melt over the dimples that appear when his face is literally buried in your pussy. But with Namjoon there's always this air of domestic bliss, a safe haven of comfort, the shines through even in the most carnal debauchery. The praise seems to drive him forward, his mouth latching onto your clit as two fingers slowly stretch you out. When his fingers curl up at just the right spot you can feel your climax hurtle closer, but you don't want it just yet. You want to feel him inside you, you want to finally feel full of nothing but him before your release. "Stop, stop Joony I'm going to come if you don't stop. I wanna cum with you-fuck-inside me." That finally gets his attention, his fingers finally snake out and you watch him pop them into his mouth with delight before his hands tug your hips closer to him.

This time your kisses are sloppy, needy, and rushed. The taste of your tangy arousal on his tongue has small moans of delight bubbling out of you. "Fuck, I really want you. I can't wait to feel you." He pauses for a moment to stare down at the couch and you can tell that his gears are slowly grinding underneath the haze of lust. "I think I have a condom somewhere in my luggage. Give me a moment, I'll be right back." Before you can nod in response he's already taken off, your eyes glued to his ass as he runs away. If you thought he had a cute ass before, it looks all that much better without the clothing.

After a minute or so of radio silence, you hear a loud crash, some banging, and muffled cursing. "You okay Joon?" You're quick on your feet and when you open the door you see his luggage strewn about on the floor with a large lamp laying next to it. "Oh, I hate when lamps try to run away from me. But really, are you okay?"

"Physically, just fine. The only thing that's been damaged is my pride. Good news though, I did manage to find that condom!" He presents the gold foil with childlike glee, his smile reaching from ear to ear and you can't help but laugh. "Wait! I should probably mention that I didn't even pack them, Yoongi's fiance did saying that I really needed to get laid so I swear, this wasn't some large diabolical-"

"Joon, it's fine. I'm glad you have a condom because I would really, really like to fuck you." The atmosphere shifts again, earlier playful twitterings are thrown out the door as you sit down on his bed. "If you still want to, that is."

"God, you're going to be the death of me." With a groan, he's back up and by your side, his hand fisting over his half hard cock to get it to spring back to life as he peppers kisses over your face and pushes you into his feather-down pillows. "I can't wait to feel you, I can't wait to make you mine."

"I'm pretty sure that emotionally I've been yours since the moment you went with me to feed the koi fish."

"Remind me to send them a thank you present in that case." You prop yourself up on your elbows as he rips back the foil and slowly rolls the rubber over his length. You feel enough delight to border on delirium over the fact that you're finally going to feel him. Finally, after all this time of late night frustrations caused by even the smallest of contact with him, you're going to be able to feel him. The sensation of him coating himself in your arousals as he lines up has your nerves dancing with anticipation. He enters at an agonizingly slow pace, the stretch has you gripping onto the sheets and toes curling as his name leaves you in slow whines.

"Please move, I can't take it. I need to feel you. Deeper." Lust has fogged over your brain and your words come out wobbly, slower, lower than normal. His hips push deeper, faster until his pace is almost brutal. The sounds of skin slapping against skin, loud wet squelches, and groans of satisfaction fill the room. His lips find yours again, his teeth nipping playfully as one hand sneaks down to rub circles on your clit.

"I wanna make you cum, I want to see you all fucked out on my cock. Does this feel good?" The lower timber of his voice mixed with the clitoral stimulation has you spasming around him.

"Fuck, yeah. Yeah just-fuck-just like that. Fuck! Don't stop, please don't stop I-I" His hips piston deeper, further into you as he presses kisses onto your neck.

"Let go, baby, just let go." Your climax hits you quickly, stars spotting your vision as your legs hook around his waist. It feels like you're floating, it's transcendental. As if sex has brought you to a higher realm, a place where everything is perfect and right as you cry out in pleasure. He fucks you through it, new waves of satisfaction rolling in with each movement. You're slightly delirious as you come back to reality, a smile gracing your face as you hear words of praise roll off his tongue.

"I could watch you cum all day. Fuck, you're so tight now. I'm not going to last much longer. Hold on, turn around." He helps you reposition until your ass is up in the air and your face is pressed snuggly into the pillows. His hands guide your hips in place as he quickly bottoms out, his pace picking up until you're a mewling mess.

"Joon, fuck, please cum. I wanna feel you cum." The groans of satisfaction in response to your words has you spasming again, toes curling as his hands grip the flesh of your ass. You can feel his movements become sloppier, the rhythm falling out of sync as he pushes himself further to the edge that's teetering just out of reach. You snake your hand down to gently cup his balls and he gives a guttural moan in response. It only takes four more thrusts before he's spilling into the condom, lodged deep inside of your wet heat still as he slumps forward.

"Holy shit." He catches his breath before he rolls over, carefully tieing off the condom and tossing it into a waste bin before he pulls you into his arms. "That was-"

"Amazing? Mind-blowing? The best sex of your life?"

"Yeah."

"Good. It was for me too. I'll probably owe Jin for life now though for refusing to come. He kept saying that I needed to get laid." Namjoon laughs as he presses a kiss to your temple.

"You know that's actually the same thing that Yoongi and his fiance said? I'm glad that they were right though. They kept telling me to just tell you that I liked you but for some reason, I was so nervous. You're just so sweet, and funny, and caring and perfect and I was convinced that you would think I had too much baggage to want to try with me."

"You? Baggage? Please, I'm the one with the mommy and daddy issues, I think I trump you on the baggage claim. Besides, you're this witty, charming, intelligent, and painfully handsome man. How could I not fall for you?"

That night the two of you fall asleep in between stolen kisses, cuddling, and conversations of love and life and what the future might have in store. As it turns out the future held pretty good things if you do say so yourself. Somehow the two of you helped each other heal, encouraged each other to grow and expand as people. It isn't always easy, but the two of you develop further into love when things get harder. And so somehow you managed not only to find love but after five years the government knows you're in love too. Three years after the wedding bells and you adopt your first child. Another two years later and you welcome in your second child and you finally realize that your biggest dream was coming true. You finally got the family you always wanted. And Jin was sure to remind you often that really it was all thanks to him. You can't say he's entirely wrong though, after all, he did help give you the chance to sweep Namjoon off his feet.

#btssmutclub #namjoon smut #rm smut #namjoon fanfic #namjoon fluff #namjoon reader insert #namjoon x reader #bts reader insert #bts smut #bts fluff #bts fanfiction

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itsclydebitches · 5 years

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Lovely Good Omens fandom! Many of you have asked for/mentioned having a text version of the Yelp reviews, which if I were a better person I would have remembered to include in the first place. Better late than never? So here’s a version below and I also threw this up on AO3 so there are options. For the record, I’m not at all trained in transcribing visual media, so if anyone wants to add to/edit/do whatever to this post, especially to make it more accessible, you have carte blanche to do so 👍

Also I typed this up in a hurry so, as always, apologies for any typos.

Tagging: @lethargicdolphin, @marithlizard, @pearwaldorf

A.Z. Fell and Co. Antiquarian and Unusual Books

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Lindsay F.

London, United Kingdom

71 friends

3000 reviews

9874 photos

So I slipped into this place because I spotted my ex across the street and would have rather chugged a cocktail of bleach, lighter fluid, and a condensed solution of all my middle school years then talk to that asshole. Owner was on me the second I walked through the door and I thought he was gonna be one of those ‘Either buy something or get out’ types. Nah. I spilled the story, said I really wasn’t looking to purchase anything, and he LIT UP like nobody’s business. He gave me tea and promised I’d never run into my ex again. Which is a super sketchy promise on its own and also should have been hilarious coming from a guy a century behind in style.

...Kinda believed him though.

Marina G.

London, United Kingdom

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Pretty sure this guy wants a library, not a bookshop. I mean, he’s nice and all when you first come in, but trying to actually buy a book? Good fucking luck. He’s too busy to see you right now (for the record he’s super bad at pretending to be busy). Or claims that this book has already been put on reserve (then why wasn’t it in the reserve pile...?). Or the price suddenly jumped an obscene amount. Or he just straight up hems and haws until you get fed up and leave. I watched him pull a novel straight out of a woman’s hands once when she claimed that price was no object and she wouldn’t be leaving the store until she’d purchased it. You’d think she was trying to kidnap one of the guy’s kids!

So yeah. Feel like popping in to browse, maybe take pictures for your research, all while making quiet conversation with someone who quite frankly knows his stuff? This is the place for you. Want to actually buy something? Go elsewhere. Pretty sure Fell doesn’t even own a cash register. At least I’ve never seen one.

He wants a library and I’d honestly tell him as much if he didn’t scare me just a little bit...

Aaron S.

New York, NY

68 friends

212 reviews

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I stayed here for three days once. Found a bathroom off the romance section and a chair hidden away in the back. Way comfier than my mattress at home. Mostly played iPhone games and kept real quiet at night. Experiment ended when I popped out for breakfast and didn’t make it back before a random 10:00am closing. Don’t think the owner ever realized what was up.

Hana S.

London, United Kingdom

112 friends

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I really love this place. I’ve been coming here since I moved to London, about twelve years ago, and it’s one of the most soothing bookstores I’ve ever had the pleasure of visiting. Yeah, you hear talk of weird things going on at Fell’s, but really? We could all do with a bit more quirky in our lives. And Fell provides that in spades: Annual plants that never seem to wither, let alone die. The smell of incense mixing with cocoa. Strange books tucked horizontally into the shelves, feeling like they have a touch of magic to them. Nonsensical conversations taking place in dark corners (I’m talking candid chats about the apocalypse and whether angels could actually bless all the rains down in Africa. I swear Fell and his boyfriend are the religion Mythbusters or something.) I’m going to sound like a total nerd here for a moment, but it feels like some sort of liminal space. You know when you were a kid and you were just desperate to receive your Hogwarts letter? Or find your own wardrobe to Narnia? That’s what walking into Fell’s feels like. Like you’ve finally found that portal and can stay as long as you like, provided you don’t try to take anything back with you into the ‘real’ world. Hell, maybe that’s why he won’t let anyone buy his books.

Robert T.

Union City, CA

4 friends

26 reviews

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There’s a snake?? In this shop?? A reALLY MASSIVE SNAKE????? What are y’all doing talkin’ about your meet cutes and shit someone call pest control!

Malini D.

London, United Kingdom

0 friends

48 reviews

99 photos

I’m not gonna pretend I have anything to say about whether this is a good bookstore or not, but if you ever want knitting help you should definitely stop by. Mr. Fell knows an absurd amount about crafts for a guy who looks like my grandpa and he’s now replaced Youtube as my go-to for alleviating “Omg please fix this how the hell did I manage to reverse the pattern??” panic. For the record, I didn’t just wander up to a random bookseller one day and demand that he help me salvage the ruins of my first sweater. I’d taken a seat inside to wait out a storm, had my messy sleeve stuffed into my purse, and he’d offered the help. Bit of a bastard about things like gauge and color--not everyone wants to wear tartan, dude--but you get used to that. He means well. Said I should come back to show him the finished piece, which I did. Things just kind of spiraled from there. He’s an absolute treasure trove of knowledge once you get him talking and a muffin to boot. If he were twenty years younger and in any way straight I would have asked him out in a heartbeat. As it is I’m considering setting him up with Grandpa.

Tiffany L.

London, United Kingdom

132 friends

312 reviews

34 photos

I’m not really a book person myself but I followed my wife in with our seventh-month old and was kinda embarrassed when he started making a fuss. Normally I’m full Badass Mom mode while in public--I’ve got a kid to feed, change, sooth, and you all can damn well deal with it--but this place was so quiet Liam seemed extra loud in comparison. I was about to take him back out when a man appeared out of nowhere. The owner I guess, based on how some of these other reviews describe him. Older gentleman with clothes out of some period piece. Anyway, he scoops Liam into his arms like he was born for it and started bouncing. Our fussy, temperamental, drama queen Liam settled in an instant and my wife got to browse to her heart’s content. I don’t know how he did it, but that man is an absolute angel. Full stars for that moment alone.

Gillian L.

The Hague, The Netherlands

283 friends

256 reviews

60 photos

Anyone know if the old Bentley parked out front is for sale?

Update: It’s really, really, really not

Billy H.

Austen, TX

40 friends

2073 reviews

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QUEER BOOKS QUEER BOOKS QUEER BOOKS QUEER BOOKS QUEER BOOKS QUEER BOOKS QUEER BOOKS QUEER BOOKS QUEER BOOKS QUEER BOOKS QUEER BOOKS QUEER BOOKS SO MANY QUEER BOOKS!!!

Gabriela G.

London, United Kingdom

3 friends

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Run by this delightfully frumpy guy who sometimes hands out biscuits from a sewing tin like my gran used to. He asked me if I was looking for anything in particular and I told him my name was Jared, I was 19, but sadly I’d never learned how to read. I have NEVER seen a man more confused in my life. 10/10 would meme him again.

Colie A.

Enola, PA

201 friends

2778 reviews

10382 photos

I’m setting the record straight here since there are a bunch of reviews claiming it’s just London folklore: there is a snake at A.Z. Fell’s. Must be an exotic pet he usually keeps upstairs because I’ve only ever seen it twice. Is it big? Yes. Scary? Fuck yes, but I’ve never seen it do anything more than give a warning hiss at this drunk who wandered in and started yelling. (Are snakes good guard dogs? This one is.) The other time he was just chilling on top of one of the shelves. Snoozing, I guess. I asked Mr. Fell if I could pet him and he said maybe after he woke up, but then I had to get to class and all.

Afraid of snakes? Steer clear. Otherwise I’d really recommend popping in and seeing if he’s around. Idk, maybe I’m just a snake fan but he looks super sweet and chill. Life is short. Boop the snake snoot.

Jeremy W.

London, United Kingdom

86 friends

409 reviews

12 photos

I live down the street from A.Z. Fell’s and let me tell you, this place is spooky as fuck. All sorts of weird lights and noises coming from it. At all times of the day and night too. Either this bowtie wearing bookworm has one crazy sex life or the place is haunted. Jury’s out on which.

Heather Ki.

London, United Kingdom

0 friends

3852 reviews

1 photos

This shop smells. Not that old book smell either, oh no, but like something is molding. I took my little Johnny in here to try and get him interested in something other than those damned video games and I walk into what smells like a whole cloud of toxic mold! My boy has a weak constitution as it is and if he comes down with anything I will be pressing charges, you mark my words.

Jo. W.

London, United Kingdom

32 friends

410 reviews

61 photos

Hey, does anyone want to talk about the fact that this place burned down last month? As in, completely up in flames, I saw it happen, nothing but a smoking husk afterwards? Does no one else remember this??

Tiggi N.

London, United Kingdom

32 friends

33 reviews

24 photos

Has anyone read this guy’s opening hours? I included a photo above: “I open the shop on most days about 9:30AM perhaps 10:AM. While occasionally I have opened the shop as early as 8, I have been known not to open until 1.” Absolutely insane. This guy’s a madman and I love him. If anyone actually manages to get into this place please let me know because I need to shake Fell’s hand.

Mackenzie J.

City Centre, Manchester, United Kingdom

807 friends

2592 reviews

13218 photos

I told my girlfriend this shop’s got a snake named Anthony and she didn’t believe me. Going back for proof next week.

Update: got the snake selfie!!!!!!!!

Penny O.

Chicago, IL

87 friends

557 reviews

16 photos

Caught the owner snogging some hot twink behind the cookbooks. Well done, my dude.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #air conditioning #good omens fic

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msruchita · 5 years

Text

Who Knew? - Part 1

Summary: It’s been 5 years since the snap, Bucky doesn’t seem to be coming back. Enters a stranger who is a balm to her soul. Will she dare to love again?

Pairing: Erik ‘Killmonger’ Stevens x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: 18+ (There’s just a lot of smut, so please, swearing too)

So, I have finally created a proper Marvel fic for the Sinful Secret’s Challenge. My prompt was ‘Do you want something better? Here’s my number.’ from

@howardpotts and also tagging @tranquil--heart and @cametobuyplums

Let me know your feedback and seriously, every like, reblog, comment is appreciated. I always aim to make myself a better writer. So, to stop rattling on, I hope you guys enjoy! Plus, my Taglist is open, but I will stop tagging you if after a few fics; I see no activity from your end

@thesaltyduchess @brazen88brat @lancetuckersmustache

Masterlist

“Enlighten me again, why are we playing Truth or Dare in the middle of a club when we can barely hear each other?!’ Peering intently over your glass at the three people opposite her, you downed the last of your vodka, before choking and gagging on it as everyone around you laughed uproariously. Trying your best to control your own laughter, you set the bottle down as Vesper winked at you before shaking a large silver cocktail mixer.

‘Feeling a little reptilian, in the nastiest way possible? We have you covered with Alligator Sperm! This bright green gator crazy goodness contains melon liqueur, pineapple juice, and yes, a literal splash of cream. Try ordering it at the bar with a straight face like me if you actually have the balls.’ She finished her sales pitch with a poker face as she poured out the lime green liquid into fresh glasses while Shayan held a small pitcher of cream.

It was busy tonight, the crowd seemed to be thrice more than normal, the reek of booze, sweat and desperation spraying everywhere as you shifted on the slightly sticky leather. None of you ever spoke the truth outside of the group therapy sessions Steve forced you to go to. It was like scraping fresh wounds with salt, hence, every time Truth or Dare was played, it was more Shot or Dare. The latest dare being Vesper had to get a hickey from someone she hadn’t slept with yet; the video now safely in your phone courtesy from the bartender who had been necking her barely minutes ago, the fresh purple of the bruise standing out against her olive skin.

‘Crocodile cum, actually.’ Lucien was so matter of fact, everyone collapsed into a fit of giggles again as she waggled her eyebrows at him. The bass of the music thrummed through your veins as all of you relaxed, occasionally bursting into fits of laughter as all of you did shot after shot; most of the dares having already been done before and the novelty had faded.

‘Y/N, you. Flash your tits to the first guy that puts his hands on you or 5 shots.’ Shayan pointed at you, flashing you a grin that was anything but innocent, as you shrugged. Slamming all 5 in a row, you winked at them, waiting for the moment the liqueur went straight to your head; the throng of people gathered beneath the DJ, all looking to escape reality like you, parted like the sea as you slid off the leather vinyl.

The heat was near unbearable, but you didn’t care; the pulse of the music called to you, it was the only time you’ve ever felt so alive, so free. You could feel your blood singing as the humidity clung to you like second skin. The bass vibrated beneath your red heels; anything was better than thinking about what lay outside the walls of the club. At least protected by the four walls, throbbing beats and strobe lights, you didn’t have to face the rubble that Thanos left behind. The pain and suffering of the people lost still pierced deep in hearts; why Steve left you alone after you both lost him. The love of your life and his best friend. Bucky.

Swallowing the sudden lump in your throat, you swirled your hips, rucking up the black camisole top you borrowed from Wanda paired with the skin tight jeans she and Natasha would whistle at every time you stepped out in them, running your hands through your skin, as you let yourself be seduced by the music. The memories of their laughter echoed in your mind as you noted several appreciative glances at your dancing and your body, knowing the glitter oil you used was illuminating your curves just right as you flipped your hair back. You caught a flash of gold, Lucien’s watch glinting for a second, as he gave you a thumbs up, hoisting Shayan up. Nodding once, you blew a kiss to Vesper; knowing your friends were just checking on you before heading out.

Vesper and Lucien understood better than most; your need to stay awake the entire night. Giving you a once-over from the table, they would check that you’re okay before calling it a night. They never stayed long; but they never said no to you either whenever you asked to go out. You continued swaying side to side, giving your hips an extra boost, pushing the memories away; the flash of teeth, crinkle of eyes before steel-blue eyes…

No! You dug nails into your side sharply, the pain chasing away the scent of gun metal, whiskey and mint. It was either dancing till the bouncer called a cab for you, telling you it was time to close up or spending hours waiting silently, staring up at your ceiling fan waiting for the alarm to ring. You always stayed till closing time, helping out to clean the place down, making sure the employees got home safe.

The body that suddenly slotted against you from behind was both familiar yet a stranger. A distant memory of raised scars and a warm, calloused hand, the same hand that now splayed wide against your belly, unyielding yet soft. Leaning against the hard chest, you continued swaying hypnotically and he followed without a second thought. ‘Did you know, there’s a rumour going on,’ you began after a long pause, as his grip tightened on your belly at your facade of casualness, that hint of pain rushing to your head faster than alcohol. ‘That you’re Erik Stevens, T’Challa’s cousin?’

The flex of the muscles under his skin relaxed fractionally, as you wondered what he was so afraid of. Nobody cared about that anymore; too much had happened. He slipped a hand beneath the camisole, up to rest underneath your ribcage, so warm and steady. It pressed just beneath your breast; thumbing slowly at the curve, a whisper, let go for me.

You could kick yourself for the comparison you can’t help but make that he never matches up to. That memory lane was dangerous as you pulled yourself out once again, chasing away the ghost of cold metal against your skin, another rough palm splayed out against your tummy, keeping you grounded against him as you very slowly sunk yourself into the crook of his body.

‘What’s my name?’ Erik asked quietly, his words brushing against the shell of your ear as his hand came up to your breast, squeezing the soft flesh. ‘What do you know about me?’ He dipped his head further, his tongue snaking out to taste the jasmine on your skin, the other hand slowly tracing out symbols onto your bare flesh, the symbols etched on your skin like he knew, as you struggled not to shudder under his touch.

‘Charismatic genius, MIT graduate with top honors, slight homicidal tendencies and-,’ You cut yourself off, not wanting to do this dance anymore. You sighed indifferently, tired. ‘Why does it matter? One night and I’ll never see you again.’

His hips suddenly pressed flush against you, his cock coming to nestle between your ass, his hand playing with a nipple. A guttural growl of warning reverberates through his chest into you, like you’re treading on thin ice. True dread spiked through you as his posture shifted, shoulder rolled unconsciously back, feet parallel so that the weight is evenly distributed. The stance of a warrior.

His voice was a low timber as you slowly turned to face him, looking up at those piercing brown eyes filled with cold intelligence. ‘No,’ he assured, pulling the nipple away before releasing it, watching it bounce lightly. ‘Not with me. Never with me.’

You looked down to see the markings peeking from the top of his white shirt and the cuffs of his jean jacket. You knew they adorned his entire upper body; earned with every life taken. You should have trembled with fear when you traced one scar, but there was a deeper need to trace your tongue along each one, the way he longed to trace his fingers across every ink you had.

You sighed heavily again, breaking away from his touch as your body screamed for his warmth, hands that promised to show that you would be taken care off, over and over again. You managed to get away enough to reach the bar when Erik grabs your hand and like a movie spins you into his arms, flush against his chest, one hand slapping your ass so fiercely you gasp as he simply sets his lips on yours.

It could have been maybe a minute, but it felt like time suspended itself; everything slowed down before he gazed down at you, the hurt and concern in his eyes surprising. ‘Come with me, please.’ He held his hand out, and you slipped yours in it without thinking.

Your talks lasted the entire night, even after the soft pink and lavender of dawn peeked through, you both kept going. He starts with his beginning. About his father, about Wakanda, how he just wanted what was his by right; but even that had been deceitful. The fight for the throne, how he almost died, meeting the White Wolf. An enigma unlike himself.

Your heart clenched but he held you in his arms, your legs between his body, stroking your back against the silk. He tells you what his cousins were like, unable to hold a grin back at the elegant respect he begrudgingly built between him, T’Challa and M’Baku though the latter would love the chance to break his back. Shuri, for being a prodigy yet so humble, it annoyed him and made him prouder than he could have imagined.

You tell him how you met Bucky when Okoye and Steve forced him to join a yoga class as he wasn’t sleeping, and they had tried everything. Even Shuri was fed up. How it was a riot watching him struggle even though he had the natural agility and flexibility of an Olympian gymnast. Within a week he asked you out, a month later you were his girl, staying with him in STARK Towers, recounting all the incidences when F.R.I.D.A.Y and Tony would team up with Sam to play tricks on you.

He tells you about how Okoye beat him to within an inch of his life for attempting to murder her king and manipulate her lover, W’Kabi. He reluctantly admitted he deserved that as you laughed out loud, missing the way his face lit up at your laugh. His voice breaks slightly as he mentions going for therapy, going deep into the jungles to stop poachers, how he had just finished his probation when he heard the news, watching his men disappear.

A diplomat and the acting king for Wakanda, he came here hoping for some change, just anything to take him away from the ashes that haunted him. You would never admit how the bleakness in his eyes matched the ache in your heart…

You stand offering him a place to crash and a mug of peppermint hot chocolate as the sun filters through. He slowly pulls you into his embrace, arms tightening around you, the need to protect you, covet you so strong he doesn’t realise he’s near tears till his voice comes through ragged and raw.

‘Ya know, I expected something better than hugging the hottest woman I’ve ever laid eyes on and getting hot chocolate for baring my soul.’

He stares down at you, a cocky smirk on his face, his eyes shining with unshed tears you wanted to smear with your thumb.

‘You want something better? Here’s my number.’ Scribbling your number on his hand with a ball point pen you found in his jacket, it was like a purse in there. ‘No calls for the next 2-3 days. I don’t put out on the first date.’

Winking at him, you power walked away, heels clacking, telling yourself you wouldn’t look back. Within 2 minutes, you started chuckling, looking at the message from the unknown number flashing on your screen.

‘I’m not waiting 2 days for that ass.’

8 Weeks Later

Your back hit the mattress with a thump, bouncing lightly, giggling as you shifted yourself half upright to see Erik more clearly, the bangles on your wrists clinking softly against each other. His dark eyes glittered in the darkness, the lust stamped on his face hungry as he reached for your ankle, tracing the delicate bone before kneeling on the bed, straddling your knees, holding you down with his weight.

Leaning forward, he kisses his way up the red fabric, the gold accents shining in the moonlight, pausing at your exposed waist. Shifting the material of your sari aside, he took a good look at you, chest heaving against the barely there blouse, your tattoos swirling in intricate patterns around your skin.

Grabbing your wrists, he gently kisses your clenched fists, the metal scarping softly against his lips, smiling at the soft exhale of breath as he pulls you up, deftly untying the strings that held the scraps of lace together, exposing your breasts to him. Pushing you back enough to arch your back, he trails a trail with his tongue over one breast, before pulling the fabric back over your skin, your nipples hard and aching, peeking through the sheer material.

‘Did you enjoy making your King squirm for you? Wrapping me around your little finger, turning me into a jealous clout with just a yard of fabric? Hmm, answer me!’ He slapped you once, the slight sting making you gasp as with another grim smile, he slants his mouth over yours, swallowing the squeak of surprise, his hand tweaking a nipple, the soft scratch of brocade teasing your sensitive skin.

Mewling slightly, you grab his shoulders when he pulls away, trying to pull him down to your lips again, but he shrugs you off, instead kissing a burning trail down your neck, deftly undoing your necklace and draping it on the table beside; over your exposed shoulder before biting down on the firm muscle, his teeth leaving their imprint behind.

Frustrated at Erik’s refusal to kiss you, your hands reach for the lapels of his suit, fumbling to get the buttons undone on his shirt, as he reached to nip at your collarbone, sucking a row of purple bruises along the column, grabbing your hands and pulling them away from his shirt, shaking his head.

‘No baby, not this time. Not after that little stunt you pulled with this outfit…’ His words trail away as he runs a warm possessive hand over your waist, tugging lightly at the thin chain that adorned it, licking his lips slowly as your own heartbeat sped up.

Another useless gala dinner with the world leaders; just another unproductive meeting for them to try and reason with the Avengers. They never showed, leaving everything to you and Erik. The situation had worsened as nobody knew what to do with all the empty infrastructure. You had been sent to mediate lest the situation worsened; you wondered since when did a yoga teacher become a certified consultant.

Slowly climbing up the stairs, making sure your golden high heels didn’t catch along the embroidered fabric, you strode towards the foyer, just as Eric stepped in with Okoye nearly barrelling into the Prime Minister of Canada over, as his eyes never left you. The mere sight of you, a vision of gold and red with slight accents of blue; a true goddess. Okoye merely smiled at you, mouthing how beautiful you looked before her sharp eyes swept around, making sure there was no threat as the Prime Minster ogled at you.

His reaction did not go unnoticed by the Warrior King, his mouth tight at the sight of the sari wrapped around your lithe body, your curves accentuated by the small dips and creases in the fabric, your waist enticing any man for a closer look with a simple gold chain adorning it. His chain, the one he asked you to wear for good luck, now made into an object of desire.

Heads turned, jaws went slack as women hissed softly in envy, the sari blouse so daringly cut, it couldn’t even be called a blouse, it was a bikini top, mere scraps of gold lace held together by strings, cupping your breasts softly.

You strolled towards him, unaware of the seductive spell you wove; an extra swing in your hips, your movements almost cat-like, as you came to stand beside him, claiming your place, his hand sliding down your back possessively…

The rest of the night was a blur of sexual tension, stolen touches and awkward adjustments as he discreetly kept adjusting his dress slacks every time you bent down exposing the tattoo on your chest or when you turned around to showcase another one of your inked designs on your back dipping into your waist. Gritting his teeth, he promised retribution for your teasing, his teeth bright against the warm tones of his skin, a dark glint in his eyes.

Pinning your wrists down over your head, he used the strings of your blouse to tie the bangles together, the metal clinking each time you moved, a warning to not bring them down as he bent down to kiss you, slow and passionate, but still ghosting around deep. He begins his assault on your neck again, this time leaving a trail of stinging, red bites down your chest, around your breasts to bite down on your nipple, bringing your body up to an arch.

Keeping one hand below the bangles holding them down, the other hand strips off the fabric off your body, leaving you topless in the petticoat, your stomach quivering as he runs a finger lazily to trace the angelic runes that adorn the soft skin. Your belly goes taut under his touch, breath heaving as you moan for more. The soft cotton clings to your legs as he reaches down and takes his time pulling up the skirt, kissing every inch of freshly exposed skin. His other hand moves to clasp your hand in his, finger entwining as his lips trail your calf, up your knees, to your inner thighs, your arousal soaked through the cotton. You didn’t wear any underwear.

The dark glint returns as his mouth descends up to focus on your breasts again, kissing the aroused flesh, blowing warm air on each pert nipple, a small frown on your face as he refuses to give it the attention its begging for, instead stroking his hands across your exposed belly, the tattoos shining black under the moonlight from the open window.

Slowly, he tugs the petticoat off you, leaving you completely naked save for the belly chain and the bangles on your wrists. ‘Baby, you went without underwear, that’ll require some punishment…’

He smiles into your skin, finally taking a nipple into his mouth, sucking slowly as a single thick digit slides into your wet, swollen folds, his groan reverberating through you. He chuckles wickedly, as you tighten and moan around him, the other hand wrapping around your throat, squeezing.

You buck your hips against his hand. ‘Erik, please…’

‘Hmm?’ He asks innocently, deliberately adding another finger , raising his head to press a kiss to your lips, his mouth watering to taste your tattoos, taste your sweet pussy, the obscene sounds calling for his tongue. He rubs his lips against yours, nipping the bottom lip and biting it down with a soft pull.

His muscular body pulls you up to him, pressed against you, the scars creating their own friction against his clothes, his cock hard against your mound. The sensation sends warmth and lust in dizzying waves through you, pooling to your lower belly. His fingers curl inside you, rubbing against your sweet spot, before pulling them out completely to suck and lick them.

‘So beautiful, so wicked, so sweet, all for me…’

‘Fucking tease…’

He chuckles again darkly, bending down to kiss you again as you gasp against his mouth as he suddenly thrusts both fingers back inside, the other hand leaves your throat to hold the back of your waist, the chain digging into your skin, keeping you still as he slowly finger fucks you.

‘I’m the tease?’ He continues the slow, torturous pace, enjoying the myriad of emotions running through your face, your mouth slightly open in mid-moan, and you look so pretty he can’t help pull you in to kiss you.

‘Perhaps you should have thought of the consequences about wearing bits of cloth as a blouse and this damn sari, mmm, this sari, will be the bane of my existence, and my solace when I’m away from you. Shouldn’t have worn it to the gala. This should have been just for me.’

‘It was a necessary risk. It’s my job to entertain and mediate the delegates.’ You manage to breathe out, his growl making you jump.

‘Perhaps you were being unwise. You will entertain no man but me.’ The smile that now graces his face has a hint of madness, it’s almost evil. He’s no longer Erik, but Killmonger and you understand immediately what makes him so fearsome to his enemies. Crooking his fingers, he twists them, screw driving you, making you cry out as you nearly collide into him, jerking at the pleasure shooting throughout your entire body.

He lets go, watching you fall back on the sheets, your hands clenching at the duvet, almost ripping it to shreds as your orgasm builds up. You sit up, grasping at his suit, pushing it off his shoulders desperately, hands shaking to unbutton his shirt, exposing his body to you.

Killmonger refuses to give in to you, a wicked smirk on his face, instead moving his fingers with more speed, his knuckles hitting to the hilt every time, biting down on the other nipple harshly as your orgasm rocks you, and he removes his fingers, your walls clenching emptily at nothing, as you whine at the loss of contact, disbelief stamped on your face. He slides backwards of the bed, leaving you feeling cold and frustrated.

Quickly shedding off his clothes, standing completely nude at the foot of the bed, devouring you like a carnivore with his eyes. He grasps your ankle and pulls you to him, hard. You nearly fall off the bed straight into his arms, as he bounces you up, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist, the scars rubbing against your heated skin, making you bite your lip.

His hands come down to grab and squeeze your ass, slapping them a few times, knowing how much you love the sting, as he crawls back on to the bed, never leaving you and settling down on his knees. His hands trail all over your body, avoiding where you want them the most, pressing sweet open-mouthed kisses against the purple marks. He bites down on the skin on the other side, leaving angry red marks in its place, claiming you as his.

He pushes his finger back into you, adding another two, the three thick digits creating a soft stretch as he scissors them, swallowing your moans with a heated kiss. Your eyes almost roll back when he his hand wraps around your throat again, squeezing tightly, the air suddenly thin. He removes his fingers from you, spanking your ass hard before circling your clit, feather light. You buck your hips against him, but he merely smiles.

‘You look so pretty when you’re so flustered. Such a doll.’ He grins, kissing the corner of your mouth as you suddenly stiffen, feeling the ghost of cold metal in the place of his warm, calloused hand.

‘You’re such a doll to me. I don’t deserve you…’ Brooklyn accent washing over you as you tip toe up to tangle your hands in chocolate brown locks…

‘Y/N! Look. At. Me. Who am I? Who do you belong to?’ Grasping a handful of your hair, he yanks tightly as you snap back, unable to sink into the attack, his eyes seeking yours desperately.

‘I belong to you. Erik, please.’

‘Say my name!’

‘Please N’Jadaka, fuck me.’

Softly strokes your cheek, nuzzling your ear, pleased. ‘No.’

He changes the angle of his fingers so that they’re thrusting up, causing your orgasm to build again as you forcefully suck in a breath against his hand around your throat. He stills all movement again, you moan pitifully, the pressure bringing tears to your eyes.

Grinning wickedly, a glint in his eyes, he returns his hands back between your legs, the flesh so swollen and wet, it gleams softly against his skin. Removing them to roll a nipple between his fingers instead, as you arch your back against his hand and he takes your other nipple in his mouth.

He sucks lightly, flicking the tongue over the already sensitive, tender bud. You hum and he bites down slightly harder than before, turning your moan into a cry.

You can feel his cock pulsing against you and the anticipation is both killing and making you dizzy with pleasure. You clench your thighs around his waist, urging him but he doesn’t move. He releases your breasts, his mouth coming up to kiss you, the pillowy softness red and bruised as his hand comes down to play with your clit. He rubs it lightly, alternating between quick flicks and pressing against the very sensitive nub.

#sinfulsecretschallenge #erik killmonger #erik killmonger x reader #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #a lot of smut #so much angst #okoye

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