#The person this is based on does a very endearing little pout and head tilt whenever they’re in thought
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Caricature based on one of my friends.
#my art#procreate#illustration digital#illustration art#artwork#illustration on tumblr#My asks open in two days!#Im super excited- I’m trying to warm up!#Im not sure how I feel about this design as a whole- but I’m glad I’m practicing rendering#Turns out that painting on top of the piece changes so much! And it’s easier than juggling a million layers#The person this is based on does a very endearing little pout and head tilt whenever they’re in thought#It reminds me of the way a dog looks up in loving thought of their owner#I’m not very good at drawing dogs so I chose a different animal…#I do wish I did a better job of capturing them in thought. It’s one of my favorite things about them.
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Ice
-DJ Khaled voice- Another one.
What the fuck?? Four fics in just one weekend?? After two whole months of inactivity?? Aha, I am in no way as productive as you think I am. I’ve been sitting on all of these projects for almost three months now lmao- but they’re here now for your viewing pleasure, babes! This is a one shot Rex x Jedi!Reader, but they are not together. They do not get together. This is just Rex, pining for some oblivious Jedi General (you) and dealing with it by being grumpy and thinking he has the upper hand in teasing the reader. I left the gender of the reader pretty ambiguous I think? I hope?
No warnings apply, except I guess foul language if you don’t like that. And vague imaginings of semi steamy scenarios. Some angst if you squint. But really, it’s just fluffy pining, with a needy (and in denial) Rex. Comments, questions, reblogs and replies absolutely welcome and encouraged!
~
“T-take off the a-a-armor.”
The jaig eyes turned to you, the blue and white blending into the Pantoran ice and snow effortlessly. This would be the only environment suitable for their stark white armor as camouflage, and here you were demanding him stripped. Knowing you couldn’t read his bewildered expression, Rex tilted his head to you in a curious motion, “Why?”
“It’s fekkin’ f-freezin’ Cap,” you spoke through chattering teeth, pulling your robes tighter around you. He chuckled at your cursing, no other Jedi talked so blunt like you did, so casual. It was even worse when you were outside the temple, falling out of regulations and decorum the moment it was just you and your troopers. Hell, they didn’t even have to be your troopers. Force knows how often you’ve snuck around the barracks on Coruscant, going from battalion to battalion, whoever had furlough, making sure every clone gets at least a moment's worth of normalcy in their too-short life. Rex would be lying if he said it wasn’t endearing, and he may have felt a slight smidgen of pride that, aside from your own men, you seemed to find yourself in the 501st bunks the most.
“So? I’m perfectly toasty in this specialized insulated armor. You’re the one that decided not to wear your cold-assault gear until we got to the surface, General L/N,” Rex teased, drawing out your name and title nice and slow, biting back a bit of laughter at the way you scrunch your nose whenever you got annoyed, “Why would you want me to de-kit? To be cold with you?”
“Don’t c-call me that, Rex,” you bit out, groaning at the formality, and the chill going down your spine, “Y-you know I’m just Y/N.”
“I’ll stop calling you proper, when you stop being a Jedi,” he chided, prodding some more at the fire in the dim cavern, the only light being the glowing embers in front of you and whatever was being illuminated off the snow right at the mouth of the cave. Your ship had crashed into the freezing moon in the midst of a brutal blizzard, luckily right next to the base of a mountain with accessible caves. Unluckily, you were also 15 klicks west of your rendezvous point, with the wind and snow causing major damage to your transmitters and interfering with the signal in your commlinks. You weren’t going anywhere, or talking to anyone, until the storm let up.
You huffed at his strict persona, you know Rex only acted so dogmatic to rile you up. You saw how nonchalantly he acted around Anakin and Ahsoka, even Obi-Wan at times. No, with you it was entertainment, a game to see how much you could take before breaking, and he loved it. Even without the Force, you could see it in the shake of his shoulders at his quiet laughter, hear the coy smirk in the dip of his drawl, watching the extra swing in his stride as he walked away triumphant every time, so sure he had succeeded in driving you crazy. This time, he had nowhere to run.
Ignoring his baiting taunt, you crawled around the fire to sit right next to him, “P-please, Captain? I’m r-r-really kriffin’ c-cold, and while the fire is so delightful, I think i-it’d be in both o-our best interests to h-have a second source of heat.”
Rex nearly dropped his stick he was using to poke at the kindles, tensing slightly before clearing his throat, “Oh? And what ‘source of heat’ did you have in mind?”
“D-don’t play dumb,” you shivered again, pouting at how you stuttered while he sat a little too well composed for your liking, “I know the K-Kaminoans t-taught you all about s-s-survival tactics. I d-do it with my boys a-all the time. Strip to your b-blacks, m-me to my t-t-tunic, then I’ll wrap my robes around the two of us. B-body heat, Rex.”
Your boys. Your affectionate term for your ever-faithful battalion, that apparently frequently slept and cuddled with you in the most innocent and familiar of ways. Still, something about it made Rex’s stomach stir, his mouth twisting from a smirk into a silent snarl under his helmet. He wasn’t against ‘cuddle puddles’ with the vode, every single brother took part in them, and it wasn’t unusual to find a stray jedi or padawan compacted in the very middle of the pile. He knew for a fact that the 212th had regular arguments as to who’s turn it was to use General Kenobi as a pillow (and that Cody never partook in those bouts- no, he was always the General’s pillow). In theory, he knows it's more than a possibility for you to be a part of them, especially with your extremely relaxed extroverted personality, but actually hearing you say it out loud had something ugly rear its head to sour the Captain’s mood. He attempted to shoo the little creature away, trying to scare it off with a forced cough to make it scurry back into hiding and leave his inner peace alone. His mind clear again, he peered into your pleading doe eyes through his visor, seeing the flames flickering reflections off your irises in a whimsical dance. His gaze went lower, following the slope of your nose, before tracing the shape of your full pout, lips trembling and reddened from the cold, nearly beginning to chap. The slight clicking of your teeth as he watched you shiver under your robes made him resign to your request, sighing as he removed the cowled helmet, “Fine. Why you didn’t just wear your own cold-assault gear is beyond me, but I’ll help you stay warm this time.”
“Oh, thank the force,” you whimpered, immediately dropping the outermost robe from your shoulders, staying on your knees as he stood up to remove his layers. Rex nearly dropped his cuirass, watching you unwrap your tan-colored linen underneath to reveal a gripping white tunic, clinging to your every curve and muscle, no part of you left to the imagination except the actual flesh itself. You even discarded your boots and breeches, leaving you in opaque black tights. Without the safety of his helmet, Rex tore his eyes from you, desperate to hold onto some semblance of rectitude, taking a deep inhale through his nose before continuing his own removal. Rex could feel the tip of his nose numbing just slightly, shaking his head at what the hell was he doing-
“You know, if we get found like this-”
“We’ll s-say I got hypothermia and you were ‘d-doing your duty t-to protect the Jedi’,” you giggled, a little forced, hands coming up to rub at your shoulders, attempting to create some friction, but wincing at the iciness of your fingers, “Rex, hurry!”
Your whine of his name had him hesitant to remove the bottom half of his armor, already starting to feel something forbidden gathering in the depths of his stomach. He tried to fend off the feeling by turning his head to the stone wall and talking- though whether that was an effective decision remained to be seen. “I’m just saying, can’t you use the Force or whatever to warm yourself up? Isn’t that something you can do? I know you can use the Force for healing purposes, this’d be like that, right?”
“If I had f-followed the path of m-m-medical practice, sure,” your breath came out in little clouds as you puffed through another tremor, wrapping your dark robe around your shoulders as you waited for Rex to finish, “But, I didn’t, I chose the kn-n-nights, and so I’m here, and n-now I’m your problem.”
“My problem,” Rex grumbled under his breath as he sat back down, tugging at the final parts of his boots, not caring that you could actually hear him, “Skywalker is my problem. Tano is my problem. Kenobi can even be considered my problem at times, but you, General? No, no, no. You’re not my problem, you’re-”
Turning back around to face you, he nearly choked on his own spit. He hadn’t realized how close you were, and without his helmet, his nose brushed against yours in an innocent bunny kiss, the brief friction making him jump back nearly a foot away. A teasing chuckle left you at his skittish reaction, cocking your head to the side as you opened your robe back up and beckoned him closer, “Wrong way, Captain. C’mere.”
His throat felt tight, closing off almost everything, even air, and despite his discarded layers he was certain the back of his neck was beginning to sweat. The way you so carefully had folded your legs, thighs pillowing together in such an enticing way, leaning on your elbow to pronounce the slope of your hips and curve of your waist...he could so easily wrap his arms around you perfectly, before settling his head to rest on your chest and memorize the beat of your heart- the pinch of his nails digging into the meat of his palm drew him out of his mind before he could fall any further down that rabbit hole. He cleared his throat, throwing his gaze to the floor as his entire being tensed, “This…i-is not regulation, General.”
“Oh my maker you’ve been hanging out with Echo too much,” you groaned, throwing your head back dramatically, “Rex, please?”
He swallowed down a hard gulp of air, inching his way over to you, without looking up from the floor. You met him halfway, dragging your thickest robe behind you, and sighed in relief at the natural waves of heat coming off of him. Every single clone ran hot, and you trapped that heat by throwing the robes over the two of you, wrapping your hands around the back of Rex’s head and pulling him into your neck as you leaned against a standing rock.
One minute his eyes were counting cracks and jagged holes scattered over the cave floor, and the next they were gifted with a gracious view of your form, so close he could smell your clean body wash, a soft mint that tickled his nose, and he had to count to ten to control his breath so he didn’t just inhale you instead of oxygen. It was a concentrated effort made extremely difficult due to the delightfully sharp pressure of your nails against his scalp. You already felt like heaven, he had to tense himself from wanting to grab for more of you- which he didn’t have to do anyways. You had pulled him into you, his nose brushing over your neck, the tip still chilled, making a breathless giggle leave you, “Oh, your nose is s-so icy!”
“Who's fault is that,” Rex grumbled into you, mumbling to try to keep his lips from mouthing over your exposed collarbone. What he couldn’t stop was the delighted shiver that ran through him as your hands started massaging the tired planes of muscle in his back, making him lose a bit of discipline and dropping flush against you. He made a horrified sound, the breath strangled in his throat as he felt a nervous sweat thickly dripping over the back of his neck, before that sweet amused sound left you once again.
“Rex, you're so tense! Here, lemme just-”
Your hands worked in smooth motions, rubbing deep into his tired tissue. He could feel his eyes roll back into his head, biting the swell of his lip to keep any lewd sounds from leaving him, focusing on syncing his breath with the flow of your touches. His form was finally slack, keeping you trapped underneath him as his arms tentatively found their way around your waist, holding you to him, his face buried in the crook of your neck. You hummed at the coverage of him over you, leaning to nuzzle against the side of his head, the prick of his blond tickling the tip of your numbed nose. You whispered to him, eyelids growing heavy as you curled into him, “Thank you, Captain.”
Your breathing evened out, deep and slow, your hands coming to a rest, stopping on the small of his back and between his shoulder blades. Rex couldn’t believe it; you had fallen asleep in his arms. His eyes slowly peeked open, and he wiggled a bit, getting to a place where he faced you instead of the rock you were both leaning on. His eyes were nearly level with your jawline, he could trace the profile of your parted lips, still threatening to chap in the cold air, but your breath didn’t stutter anymore from the chill. He really was helping keep you warm.
He had dreamt about those lips, memorized the way they shaped his name, watched the direction you preferred to run your tongue over them while you were deep in thought. He licked his own lips in just that way, thinking about how maybe it’d feel if he were to do that to yours.
Maker, he was awful. Thinking about his wretched togue playing at your perfect lips, while you laid so peaceful and trusting underneath him.
Rex prided himself as a man of honor, he wasn’t so foolish as to attempt anything, but even just thinking about you in this vulnerable way as you let him hold you… he felt slimy, unworthy to be in your good graces. He let out a shuddering breath, not in the cold but in longing, exhaling your name as his arms brought you impossibly closer to him. For however long the two of you had, however long the storm lasted, he would treasure this. He would treasure you.
He was a fool for fighting you on this. Being lulled by your breath to join you into rest as the blizzard raged on, the only thing he would change would be how late he was in agreeing to your conditions. When you both awoke, with the snow settled and communications running, when you were both with your respective teams, and yourself in proper gear, Rex would still have tonight in his memory. He would still be holding you in his arms, breathing you in, and playing the memory of your heartbeat, the soft thumping tempo so soothing, on repeat in his mind.
#captain rex#captain rex x reader#captain rex imagine#captain rex x y/n#captain rex x you#pining#cuddling for warmth#oblivious reader#grumpy captain#hes done with your shit but fucking hells youre so damn cute#swtcw fanfic#commander rex#the clone wars#star wars the clone wars#star wars#my writing#liz speaks#jedi!reader#oblivious!reader
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》Pairing: Seungcheol x reader
》Prompt: ‘Is that a fukcing rendieer?’
》Genre: Fluff, slice of life!au.
》Word count: 1195
》Notes/Warnings: None, One or two swear words, Rated PG 13.
Beta readers: @lovingyu04 @wonwooslibrary thank you both so much!!!!
| All messages and requests are open <3
All rights reserved © Merakiiverse. Do not repost, translate or claim as your own
Waddling into the living room, you notice that the light has been turned down so that it has a perfect, calming aroma around the room. Furniture is scattered all over, creating a base for the blanket fort. Seungcheol pops his head out of the opening, a gummy smile making its way onto his face when he sees you.
“I got the biggest blanket I could find.” You say, getting onto your knees and dragging it into the den with you, noticing that there are bottles of pop and a variety of snacks placed in the corner, near the opening. Pillows are propped up against the couch, at the very end of the fort, with a duvet covering the hardwood floor.
Seungcheol comes up next to you, laying down and pulling the blanket up over both of you, proceeding to pull you into the warmth of his chest. Since it is winter, you watch a range of movies, such as the classic movie, Elf. At the beginning of the second movie, you can already feel your eyelids falling. You can feel him running his fingers through your hair, as the movie becomes muffled, becoming background noise.
He looks down and moves some hair out of your face gently and finds that your breathing has decreased as your eyelids are firmly shut. He inwardly fanboys over you, watching how you make a tiny noise of contentment. You are the cutest thing ever, he thinks.
He lets you sleep, continuing to run his fingers down you back as he feels himself falling in and out of sleep at the end of the second movie. He finally wills himself to get up and turn the tv off, moving you slowly off his chest, making your sleeping self whine in protest, though you don’t wake up. He makes as little noise as possible as he puts away the food and turns the lights off. Returning to the fort, he once again pulls you into his chest and falls asleep peacefully.
Your body is stiff as you wake up, sore from being in the same position for a long period of time. You notice that your head is tucked into Seungcheol’s chest, small snores making their way out of his mouth. You untangle his arms from around you, hoping that he doesn’t wake up. Slipping your slippers on you, you head to the kitchen and look around the fridge, trying to find the milk. Pouring it into a glass, you make your way to the counter and gasp at what you see outside.
“What are you so shocked about?” a groggy voice sounds from the kitchen doorway, making you jump. You slam the glass onto the counter and grab his arm, dragging him towards the coats and shoes, hastily getting wrapped up.
“Princess, what are you doing? Why on earth are you getting dressed at?” He pauses to get his phone out of his pocket, “3am?!” he continues, his voice no longer sounding tired, but shocked.
“IT’S SNOWING” You say, jumping up and down, a wide smile making its way onto your face. All Seungcheol can do is smile at you fondly and start to get ready, shaking his head at your antics. You never fail to surprise him.
“Hurry Cheollie, please.” You whine, helping him put on his coat.
“Okay, okay princess, slow down” He laughs at the pout on your face, making his heart beat even more erratically. God you're going to be the death of him.
You grab the keys and swing the door open, youre so excited Cheol thinks you're going to break the hinges as he winces at the sound of the door hitting the wall. But you clearly don’t care as you run into the snow, falling to yours knees. He stays near the doorway, you are so endearing and he loves you so much. Until he felt a snowball hit his chest…
Looking down he finds snow on his coat, “Oh it’s on princess” he says before running towards you, picking and throwing snow at you. The first one goes into your hair and falls on to your face. You pout at him, though it soon turns into a smirk as you throw another snowball at him.
You may think that you are good, but he is fast as you duck for cover, your arms going over your head. You laugh at the onslaught of snow covering your entire being, he never lets you have a chance to throw any back at him.
When he stops, you uncover your face to look at him as he shows you a cheeky smile, making you tilt your head in confusion. He runs towards you and gently tackles you, so that he doesn’t hurry you. One hand goes to the back of your head as the other comes out to stop himself from squishing you. Both of your laughs ring out into the night sky. Seungcheol’s laughter dies down as he watches you, the crinkling of your eyes, the way that he can't see one ounce of stress. When you notice his stare, you stop laughing.
It was so cliché this moment as you stare at each other, the snow falling around you in slow motion, the streetlights making them glow like fireflies. Snowflakes falling into his hair, the contrast of the white on black making it look ethereal. You look at his face, his doe eyes, plump lips, the almost invisible little ‘faults’ in his face that you wouldn’t be able to notice unless you are this close. You love this man. God, your heart hurts thinking about it.
Nobody is perfect, nothing is perfect. A stupid prefix that the media made to make people feel bad about themselves. They didn’t have this, they didn’t have that. Its such a stupid word, it shouldn’t even be real. In reality, what makes something perfect, is subjective. Different to everyone. Even with the person that you love, they aren't perfect. Yet, you know that in your own definition of perfect, this man right here, is your perfect. Including, all of his faults. You can't stop staring at him, as he looks at you like he has seen you for the first time, when his heart dropped and he was just amazed. He wants to shout out loud, tell everyone about you because you are the one. The one he loves.
Out of the corner of your eye, you see a shadow, causing you to divert your attention.
“OMG, is that a fucking reindeer?” you gasp
Thrown out of the moment, too busy staring at your lips, his face contorts into one of confusion, “what?”
“Look, right there. Theres a fucking reindeer on their house” you point a hand up to your neighbours roof. Seungcheol turns his head to look at the decoration. You quickly shove him off you and get up, running as fast as you can back to the house, your movements slowed by the snow.
“Ohh, is that how we are playing now?” he shouts, though he can’t help but laugh at your silly antics. Maybe staying up till 3am isn’t as bad as he thought.
#caratwritersclub#thesvttown#seventeen#seventeen scenarios#seventeen imagine#seventeen x reader#svt x reader#seventeen x you#scoups imagine#seungcheol imagine#seventeen oneshot#seventeen scoups#scoups oneshot#seungcheol oneshot#seventeen drabbles#scoups drabble#seungcheol drabble#scoups scenarios#seungcheol scenarios#svt#scoups x reader#scoups x you#seungcheol x reader#seungcheol x you#seventeen fluff#scoups fluff#seungcheol fluff#vernon#jeonghan
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Getting Lost Together [2k words, OCxOC Fluff]
Another writing commission, this time for @hotsugarbyglassanimals and featuring their OCs, Grii and Tenta!
External links: [Google Docs], [AO3]
Warnings: None. Appropriate for all ages.
Description: Grii and Tenta visit Splatsville for the first time together.
-----
The desert was quickly becoming one of Tenta's least favorite places.
It wasn't that the visuals were lackluster - the Splatlands were a place that looked beautiful in pamphlets and stunning in person. Tenta had spent most of the train ride since crossing into the desert staring absentmindedly out the window, watching the sea of orange sands and towering rock formations roll by, admiring the unique flora that skirted the tracks. It was a whole new world compared to the lush, tropical mountains she was accustomed to seeing around Inkopolis. No, the Splatlands were undeniably gorgeous.
The problem was all the darn heat that came along with them.
Tenta blinked slowly and rubbed her eyes. They weren't far from their destination and so she was trying to avoid dozing off, but even in the air-conditioned passenger car the heat was exhausting. Much of the past hour had seen her with her head buried in her arms, drained of the energy to do anything but watch the scenery.
What was the time, anyway? Reluctantly she lifted her head to glance up at the clock hanging on the wall. It had been a while now; shouldn't Grii have--
No sooner had that thought entered Tenta's mind than she heard the telltale sound of one of the car doors sliding open. Peering over the booth across the table she saw her girlfriend stepping into the car, making her way back over to the table Tenta was sat at. "I'm back, dear," Grii said with a smile as she slid into the booth beside Tenta and placed a paper bowl of pale pink ice cream on the table before her. "The dining car had red bean after all."
"Mmh," Tenta hummed cheerfully, "that is good news." As soon as Grii was settled in the seat Tenta scooted up to lean against her, making herself comfortable while she dug into the refreshing dessert. She felt Grii shift a bit in surprise, but before long the inkling's arm was draped around her, holding her in a snug embrace. "Thank you for getting this for me, my love."
"N-no problem, dear." It wasn't hard to notice the bashfulness in Grii's voice. Tenta giggled to herself between bites of ice cream; even after as long as they'd been together, it was still adorably easy to fluster her girlfriend. Were she less exhausted, Tenta thought, she would probably push the affection just to enjoy the reactions. For now, though, she just wanted to relax and enjoy her snack.
"So... how long until we get to Splatsville?" Grii continued after a moment, idly rubbing Tenta's shoulder while the octoling rested against her.
Tenta purred and nudged in closer to Grii, lazily nodding toward the window. "I was able to see the edge of the city come into view a moment ago. We will probably arrive in just a few moments."
Grii nodded. "Will you be able to stay awake that long?" she teased. Tenta simply poked her tongue out, and the two giggled before Grii continued. "Why's Marin performing out here anyway? It's a long way from Inkopolis."
"Ah, as I understand it, there is a music boom in Splatsville right now. Because so many inkfolk have moved here recently, many performers see it as an opportunity to build a reputation more easily than in other cities." Tenta stretched out in her half of the booth, the cold and sweet ice cream slowly helping her wake up. "Marin told me it is the best place to find an audience right now."
"Mm, makes sense," Grii replied, nodding slowly. The buildings of the city were starting to come into fuller view now; just barely visible in the middle of it all Tenta could see the famed tower where the city's primary ink sport league was based, a sleek structure illuminated with light displays in a variety of colors. It was almost a bizarre sight to see, a gleaming wall of steel and concrete rising out of the ground after so long with barely any signs of life save for distant ruins, but it was an impressive one nonetheless.
"Marin also mentioned that this city is a much different atmosphere from Inkopolis." Her ice cream depleted, Tenta gestured idly with her spoon. "They said it is very... crowded."
"More crowded than Inkopolis?"
"Much more crowded. There are only half as many people living there as in Inkopolis, but the city itself is a fraction of the size. They told me it feels almost like living back in Octo Valley at times, with how dense the buildings can be."
Grii tutted in acknowledgement. "You might have to lead me around if that's the case," she said with a grin. Tenta smiled back and shifted to rest her hand in Grii's. As she did, the quiet of the passenger car was interrupted by a quiet static crackle as a voice filtered in through the train's intercom.
"Attention, passengers, this is your conductor. We'll be entering the Splatsville city limits shortly, so it'll only be a few more minutes before we reach Central Station."
"Oh, there we go," Grii noted. "I guess that's our cue." She scooted away from Tenta gently - much to Tenta's dismay - and reached over to gather the suitcases resting on the opposite booth as the conductor continued.
"Please ensure all your belongings are accounted for, and please remain seated until the train comes to a complete stop. Oh, and for those of you visiting Splatsville for the first time from other cities: don't worry, you'll get used to it!"
A few sparse chuckles rose from passengers seated in other booths as they all similarly began to prepare their luggage. Tenta let herself smile along while she helped Grii get their things together, glancing out the window once more to see the desert suddenly give way to crowded streets and blocky apartment buildings. Welcome to Splatsville.
* * * * *
What Grii had taken as an exaggerative in-joke between octolings turned out to be more accurate than she'd anticipated. The city's primary train terminal being jam-packed came as no surprise; it was usually the same in Inkopolis, and this building was much smaller than the biggest Inkopolis stations, likely built without any expectation that it would ever see an influx of traffic as major as the present one. It wasn't until the couple had successfully left the station, though, that Grii understood just how crowded it was outside as well.
The streets of Splatsville were much narrower than those of Inkopolis, accented by street performers and groups of loitering pedestrians wherever there was enough space to set up without getting in people's way. Dense, blocky buildings towered overhead, broken up only by narrow alleyways that all seemed to open into tucked-away plazas and side paths that were just as busy as the main roads. Grii knew that the buildings here couldn't be any taller on average than the ones back in Inkopolis -- she even stopped at one point just to count the floors on a few and confirmed they were shorter than some of the office buildings near the city center back home -- but their architecture made them far more imposing from ground level. What little space was alotted to the roads was encroached upon by overhangs, evidently seeking to get as much floorspace out of the land as possible; wherever there weren't people crowding the streets there were instead storefronts, many of them small affairs built into the bottom floors of apartment complexes; higher up, the monotony of the buildings' facades were broken up by air conditioners and balconies and unlit neon signs, all arranged in a jumble of shapes and lights that made Grii's head hurt to look at for too long. It was clear to see why so many knew this place as the City of Chaos.
"You doing alright?" Grii asked, leaning up against an empty patch of wall. They had stopped to rest in a reasonably quiet alleyway, sitting in the shade while Tenta fanned herself with a travel brochure.
"I think I will be fine," Tenta replied, looking up from her spot on the ground with a lazy half-tilt of her head. "All of the people around does not help how hot it is."
Grii smiled and crouched down to sit level with her girlfriend. "Here," she said, pulling a bottle from her travel backpack, "have some water." Tenta accepted the bottle, taking a long and slow drink before screwing the cap back on and handing it back. Grii returned it to her backpack before stretching, standing up again, and offering a hand to the octoling. "Ready to keep going now?"
"Mm, I believe so." Tenta took Grii's hand and slowly rose to her feet, using her spare hand to brush the grime from her clothes as she did so. "Thank you, Grii-ni," she said sweetly, lifting Grii's hand to gently kiss the back of it.
Grii felt herself sink into her jacket a bit, the familiar heat of embarrassment tingling in her cheeks. True to Tenta, the moment she'd regathered her energy she was right back to taking any opportunity to fluster her girlfriend. Grii would have thought that by now she'd be immune to Tenta's love of endearing petnames and surprise shows of affection, and yet…
Tenta giggled to herself at the sight of Grii's sudden freeze. "You are so adorable, my dear," she said, shifting her grip on Grii's hand to lace their fingers together. "Shall we continue? The hotel should not be far." She batted her eyes as she asked this, and Grii felt the blush on her face grow hotter. She was absolutely doing that on purpose.
Grii decided to respond by teasing in kind, giving Tenta's hand a gentle squeeze as the two stepped back out onto the sidewalk. "Lead the way, Teeba."
Tenta's eyes widened and she stifled a snicker; when she noticed Grii watching her reaction she quickly turned her head, putting on an air of indignance as best she could. "You know I do not like that name," she pouted, not particularly trying to be convincing.
Grii smiled. "I know you love it, dear." She rubbed her thumb over the back of Tenta's hand slowly, leaning in to press her forehead to the side of Tenta's own. Tenta let out an affectionate hummm, purring quietly through the brief and tender display.
The rest of their walk was mostly quiet, the both of them content to relax and take in the sights as they navigated to the hotel they'd booked a few blocks from the train station. The city's unique architecture, intimidating as it was at first, grew quickly on Grii as they made their way through the city center. It was an interesting break from what she had become accustomed to in Inkopolis, after all, and more than that it meant there was an ample amount of shade draped over the street to help ensure her girlfriend didn't melt in the heat (a comment which earned even more pouting from Tenta, though she couldn't pretend to deny that it was true).
"You know," Tenta piped up at one point, breaking a lengthy silence, "there is another way this city is a lot like Octo Valley. There are a lot of other octolings about."
The thought hadn't occurred to Grii previously, but she realized after a moment of thought that it was true; while Inkopolis had seen a substantial increase in its octoling population in recent times, in Splatsville they seemed to be almost even with inklings, coexisting in a way that would have seemed impossible just a few years prior. "You're right," she agreed.
"It is nice to see." Tenta leaned and rested her head on Grii's shoulder, the long tentacle over her face swaying relaxedly. "I remember when we feared that I would be in danger if anyone discovered me living in Inkopolis. I am glad that inklings and octarians seem to be getting along again."
Grii hummed, leaning her head gently against the octoling's. "Me too."
The afternoon was fading into evening now, and the sky overhead had begun its slow transition from the clear, open blue of the Splatlands to a dusky grey. As the first streetlights began to click on along the shadier roads and store owners started to switch on their outdoor lights, Grii and Tenta rounded a corner to finally see the hotel waiting just ahead of them. It was an unexpectedly elegant building, designed with more detail and grandeur than many of the apartment complexes and businesses surrounding it; probably to help appeal to tourists, Grii rationed. As they neared the building's entrance Tenta leaned away from their passive embrace, stretching and loosing a slow yawn.
"I am so tired," she murmured. "Now that I know the hotel is near, I just want to get inside and curl up for a nap…"
"I'm feeling worn out too," Grii agreed. She looked to Tenta with a smile as the octoling rolled her shoulders and adjusted the straps of her backpack. "We can always save sightseeing for before Marin's concert tomorrow. Once we get to our room, you wanna just order food and spend the night cuddling?"
Tenta smiled back at her, planting a quick kiss on the inkling's cheek. "That sounds like the perfect start to a vacation to me."
#splatoon#takoika#tidal writing#outside ocs#i've been in a bit of an inspiration funk the past month but this was very fun once i got going on it#thank you for the commission!
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Fighting Off Feelings
Hello! Gods, it’s been a week, hasn’t it?
Here is a little one-shot of my builder Piper and Gust! This takes place in the middle of my story Gust of the Heart, which you can read on AO3 here. I decided to post some smaller blurbs of scenes I cut or silly little moments that didn’t necessarily pertain to the overarching story I was trying to tell. I also have things in Piper’s POV (because it was originally in hers and not Gust’s) - Hope you enjoy!
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Piper straightened in her seat as a familiar head of blonde hair crested the ramp leading up to the top tier of town. Gust wore a pensive expression. One of her favorites. His lower lip jutted out in a small pout and his head lolled off to one side. She cradled her cheek in the palm of her hand and sighed. “Why does he have to be so pretty?”
Sam rolled her eyes and picked at the dirt under her nails with the tip of her knife. “Gross.”
She elbowed her in the side. “Shut up, I endured while you pined after Phyllis for months. You get to suffer with me now.”
“I didn’t pine.”
She ignored her and turned back to Gust. “Hey!” He paused and glanced around curiously. She smiled and leaned a little farther over the edge. “We’re up here.” He glanced up and his expression fell as she waved at him. “Hey there!”
Gust stopped just under the awning of the Civil Corps building, his brow pitched in mild concern as he peered between the two of them seated atop it. “Piper,” he greeted with a slight nod, “Samantha.” Sam casually flipped him off and turned her attention back to her nails. “What in the world are you two doing up there?”
“It’s called having fun,” Sam drawled, “have you heard of it?”
Piper snorted and swung her legs over the side of the awning. “The view from up here is almost as good as the view from the church of Light,” she said with a teasing wink, “you should consider climbing up here to paint sometime. The sunsets are beautiful.”
Gust scoffed and crossed his arms. “That sounds cumbersome and dangerous.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve never climbed somewhere dangerous to find the perfect landscape setting?” A blush blossomed across his cheeks and that was all the answer she needed. She really wanted to hear that story, but she’d pry it from him later ー when it was just the two of them. His stories were always more genuine that way. Her grin turned feline as she kicked her legs thoughtfully. “Why don’t you climb up here and join us?”
“Why don’t you climb down here and join me?” he countered with a huff, “if you fall and sprain your ankle again, it would have been your own fault and I refuse to help you at the workshop this time.”
He held out his arms towards her and Piper blinked down at him in surprise. Was he offering to catch her? That sounded like a terrible idea. They’d both end up at the clinic with sprained ankles if she jumped. She shook her head at him and he rolled his eyes.
“Just come down, you’re probably giving Xu a heart attack.”
Piper chuckled and glanced over at the clinic across the way. She didn’t doubt that. Xu always looked concerned whenever he saw them hanging out on the roof of the Civil Corp building. She only felt slightly bad for making him worry. “Alright, alright, I’ll come down.” she said as she shimmied down the drainpipe bolted to the wall. When her feet were safely on the ground, she turned to Gust and beamed.
“Happy?”
“Very.” And he did look happier. The tension in his shoulders seemed a little less and he almost smiled, though it looked more like a pained grimace. He let his arms fall back to his side and sniffed. “Do you scale buildings often?”
“Do you judge people for scaling buildings often?”
He picked an invisible fleck of dust off the front of his coat. “I do when I don’t want to see them hurt.” Piper tried and failed to hide her surprise. He said it so casually, like he didn’t just admit that he didn’t want her hurt. That he cared about her safety. She tried to ignore what that did to her heart.
Tried and failed.
She pressed her palm flat against her chest and willed it to stop hammering so loud, but it refused to listen. Fuck. “So,” she said as she took a tentative step closer. He made no move to step away and she tried not to read too much into it. But again, she failed miserably. Light, this whole crush thing was annoying. “What brings you to the top tier of town?”
Gust nodded towards the clinic. “I have to pick up some medicine for Ginger,” he said simply, “but I didn’t expect to run into two daredevils on my way up here.”
“Are you heading home after that?” she asked with a slight tilt of her head, “I was going to drop off Ginger’s birthday present this evening, but I can just head back with you when you’re done at the clinic.”
“But Pipes,” Sam peered over the edge of the awning and pouted, “it’s Tuesday.”
Gust arched an eyebrow up at her. “So?”
“Sam and I spar on Tuesdays, remember?” She held up her fists and jabbed at the air between them a couple of times. “To keep me sane and blow off a little steam. How else am I supposed to stay a level-headed ray of sunshine all the time?” Sam snorted and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like bullshit. Piper shot a glare over her shoulder.
“And it also keeps me in shape. I can’t afford to get soft when I’m constantly being thrown in dangerous situations.” She laughed, but it quickly died when she noticed the frown toying on his lips. He traced where the cut along her hairline had been a few weeks prior with his finger and almost trailed down to where her lip had been split, but hesitated. She suppressed the shudder that tingled at the base of her spine and pulled away. “Don’t worry. I can handle myself.”
Gust wrinkled his nose and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I-I wasn’t worried.”
She had never seen someone lie so blatantly through their teeth before.
“Good, because she’s super capable.” Sam swung her legs over the awning and jumped. She landed heavily on the ground a few short paces away and Piper’s ankles ached for her. She approached the pair and draped an arm around Gust’s shoulders. He sneered and tried to wriggle out of her grasp, but Sam held firm. “Care for a personal demonstration?”
He blinked. “What?”
“What?”
Piper glared pointedly at Sam, but she was already dragging a reluctant Gust towards the Civil Corps building. “I’ve heard through the grapevine that you’ll throw down your sister at the drop of a hat,” Sam continued with a sing-songy tone, “let’s see what you got to offer, pretty boy.”
She hurried after them. What was Sam thinking? She couldn’t spar against Gust. She’d snap him like a twig. Sure, she had a few sinful scenarios that sometimes wormed their way into her head where the idea of absolutely breaking him sounded divine, but those involved a lot less clothing and hardly any punching. She had to put a stop to this.
“I’m not going to spar with Piper.”
Piper paused just inside the doors. Gust looked positively harried as he glared down at Sam, who looked so damn proud of herself. “Why?” Her grip tightened around his shoulders. “Are you afraid she’s going to kick your ass? Because she will… kick your ass, I mean.”
Light, she wanted to throttle Sam.
“No,” he said with an indignant huff, “it’s just…”
He trailed off and glanced back at Piper. A silent plea simmered in his eye ー begging her to intervene, but Piper stared back helplessly. Two parts of her brain were currently at odds. One the one hand, getting Gust pinned to the ground and staring longingly into those soft green eyes of his sounded delightful. But on the other hand, Gust wasn’t a skilled fighter and she’d probably hurt him.
Difficult choices.
“She’s wearing a skirt.”
Piper blinked at him, then down at the flowy skirt she’d thrown over her leggings, then back at him. “That’s never stopped me before,” she deadpanned, “I wear this into the Collapsed Wastelands all the time. Is that really the best excuse you could come up with?”
“Well, you’re being absolutely no help.”
“You thought a skirt would stop me from sparring?”
“It’s the first thing that came to mind, okay?” His blush bled into his ears, turning them beet red. "Leave me alone."
Piper rolled her eyes and took him gently by the arm. Sam let go and stepped back against the wall, still looking entirely too entertained by this. She shot her a dirty look as she led Gust towards the sparring ring. “Let’s just humor her,” she hissed under her breath, “it won’t take too long. I’ll have you pinned to the ground in no time and we can move on.”
“Confident, aren’t we?”
Piper started and glanced up at him. A teasing smile played on his lips. She narrowed her eyes at him, but he maintained that smug look. Something inside her flared. The part of herself that thrived on the adrenaline that came with a good fight. Did he really think he was a match against her? Her uncle had her start boxing the moment she could swing a fist. She won competitions back in Barnarock, even a few in Atara while she studied there for a time. He had no idea what kind of trouble he was getting himself into.
“Yeah, actually, I am,” she said with a matching smile, “and I’ll show you why.”
She shrugged her coat off her shoulders and tossed it to the side. Sam whopped loudly and pumped at the air. “Oh yeah, she’s taking off the coat,” she cheered, “you’re in trouble now.”
Gust rolled his eyes and shrugged off his own jacket. He wore a lovely coral sweater underneath. It was a shame she was going to wipe the floor with it when she tackled him to the ground. Piper cracked her knuckles and raised her fists in front of herself. Gust did the same and the look of stubborn determination on his face was almost endearing. This would certainly knock him down a peg or two.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked with an innocent tilt of her head.
“I’ll go easy on you.”
Her smile turned saccharine. “I won’t.”
Piper lunged forward with a left hook. Gust sidestepped to swivel out of the way, but he was too slow. She clipped his shoulder with the edge of her fist. He grunted in surprise and staggered back, grasping his shoulder with a look of mild surprise. “You actually hit me?”
She arched an eyebrow at him. “Yeah, welcome to the sparring ring, that’s kind of the point.” She lunged forward with another swing that Gust managed to narrowly avoid. “Don’t worry, I won’t bruise that pretty face of yours.” She winked and threw another punch. This one connected with his forearm.
She could faintly hear Sam narrating her moves on the sidelines, but it sounded distant. Her blood rushed around her ears as the thrill of a fight coursed through her veins. She didn’t even have to think. Her body just moved. Jab. Jab. Uppercut. Right hook. It all came naturally after years of rigorous training. She consciously pulled the punches, but they still had a bit of power behind them.
They skirted around each other, much like a dance. A dance that Piper was leading and Gust didn’t know the steps to. He stumbled over himself in a desperate attempt to stay out of range of her swings. Several emotions played on his face, shuffling back and forth like a deck of cards. Panic, fear, admiration, and something she couldn’t quite place. Something that left his cheeks flushed and his eyes heavily lidded as he danced around her. Something that looked a lot like… arousal?
It stirred the monster called desire that she kept tucked away deep in the pit of her stomach. It awoke, snarling and begging that she let him make the face while he loomed over her in the privacy of her home. Preferably splayed out on her rickety kitchen table amidst the remnants of one of their meals. Where his fingers would dance along her sides as he peppered her body with kisses until he reached...
Wait. No. What?
She clamped down on the primal beast and shoved it down and out of sight. She faltered and swung a little too wide, just narrowly missing Gust’s face. The cut of air rustled the curls around his shoulders and he balked at her.
“You said you’d avoid the face?”
“Sorry.” Her voice crackled and popped like flames on a fire. Fuck. She needed to end this.
She shifted her weight forward to go for another hit, but feinted at the last moment. She swiped at his feet with her leg and Gust went crashing to the ground. She scrambled on top of him and pinned his arms over his head, chest heaving. He stared up at her, wearing that same flushed look that got her in trouble in the first place. His hair fanned out around his head like a halo of light one would only see in ancient pieces of relic art.
Light, it wasn’t fair how pretty he was.
Her grip tightened around his wrists and around the neck of the beast that clawed desperately in her gut. “Told you it wouldn’t take long.”
“You’re better than I anticipated,” he conceded, “I shouldn’t have doubted you.”
“Well, now you’ll think twice before you doubt me again.” she said with another wink, “I told you I can handle myself. There’s no need to worry.”
His expression softened and he smiled. “I can see that now.” He wriggled a little underneath of her and she bit back the whimper that threatened to bubble up in her throat. She released her grip on him and slipped off his lap. He sat up and massaged the skin on his wrist. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t worry.” It sounded so genuine and soft. It never used to be that way with him, but now…
She wasn’t sure when things had changed between them. Was it the time they spent together while she was hurt? Or maybe the fact that she wanted to help him get those flowers for his mother’s grave? Regardless, she liked this development. It gave her hope that maybe…
“That was so entertaining,” Sam exclaimed as she plopped down between them, “thank you for that. Truly, I needed something to make me laugh today.” Gust and Piper exchanged wary looks before turning to glare at her. She threw up her hands defensively. “What?”
Piper ignored her and pushed herself off the ground. She would have a long chat with Sam later, probably using their fists. But for now, she needed to get Gust out of here before Sam pulled him into anymore shenanigans. “I’ll go with you to the clinic,” she said as she offered Gust a hand, “then we can head back to your place so I can give Ginger her present.”
Gust smiled and took her hand. She hoisted him to his feet and held onto her hand a few seconds longer than he needed to. She tried not to think about it and she masked her disappointment when he did let go. “Then let’s get going, being around Sam nauseates me.”
“Yeah, she has that effect on people.”
Sam flipped them off and they returned it without missing a beat. She waved to Sam and, together, she and Gust left the Civil Corps. As they walked, she tried not to think about how close they were, or how often their shoulders brushed against each other, or how he smelled like apricots and fresh paper.
Light, she was in deep.
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more than this
pairing: park jimin x reader (unnamed oc) genre: college au | romance, not really drama drama but it’s internal, theme of pining, includes alcohol mention and player!jimin wc: 3,101 description: [based on number seven of this prompt list] Jimin struggles to express his feelings—it’s a given for such a frivalous lifestyle—but she makes it so hard and so easy to crave something else, something more.
It’s a chance meeting. Nothing more, nothing less.
Jimin knows how this interaction will go. He will talk to her, she will engage him in some witty repertoire, probably flirt back just a teensy bit, then before he can seal the deal, she will shut him out and wrap up her defenses as high as New York’s skyscrapers just to keep herself safe. It’s admirable, endearing actually, that she doesn’t fall into him, that she fires back responses with a curve to her lips and a hand on her hips, because when someone as divine as she gives him the time of day, he can hardly contain himself from returning with a measured grin and hazy eyes filled with interest and a dash of curiosity.
There’s something about her, he has often noted. She doesn’t care about him or his reputation. She doesn’t care for his dyed red hair or his piercings. Hell, she doesn’t comment on any of it, lest he tries to cross the platonic boundary with some teasing suggestions, then she reminds him of his previous flings with a raised brow and a pursed lip. It’s an effective way for him to shut up—something she has prided herself in for the last few months—and it makes him wonder how he has done it. He’s used to Yoongi shutting him up. Sometimes even the jeers of his friend group easily silencing him, but it’s good-natured and sometimes well-deserved. But her? When she shuts him up, he feels like he has done something wrong, like he’s playing with a boundary that can’t be crossed with that method, and yet in all his fucked up experience, he isn’t even sure how he can bridge the gap with just a simple, “Hi, how are you?”
It’s not him. Not anymore. He doesn’t know how to fucking function in normal relationships. What is normal anyway? Is it giving her flowers before a date? Walking up to her doorstep and watching her walk inside? Is he supposed to wait to kiss her or does he just do it because it feels right? When he takes her to the restaurant, is he supposed to open the door for her? How about the car—
He shakes his head at the thought, heaving a long and drawn out sigh along the way. Because he doesn’t fucking know. He has no clue at all. That part of him—the oh-so-romantic side—is long gone, and whatever conception he has left of love is nothing more than phone number exchanges at his frat parties, overnight stays in his bed or theirs and a few dark splotches as a temporary reminder, and the faint recollection of what may have transpired before he is back to step one, if you can even call any of that shit love, that is.
When she sees him, she throws a coy smile in greeting.
Jimin does the same, waiting for her usual jabs.
“This is a first,” she casts an up and down look at him. “No one’s hanging off your arm or sucking on your face.”
There it is, he thinks, feeling a little nauseous at the thought. He hopes he sounds as nonchalant as he thinks he does. “Is that an expectation for me?”
“Isn’t it for all you fuckboys?”
He sighs, a part of him already resigned to the label she has been keen on reminding him of since the two of them first met.
On any normal day, Jimin probably would’ve enjoyed this sort of thing. His own notoriety preceding him well if anyone knew him. Their crowds ran in different circles. Greek life meets org life. Which isn’t much different from one another, if not for the fact that she was the one making shit the Juneteenth happen while he made beer pong, mild hazing, and the frequent stomp performance at Rush Week a thing. It was inevitable for the two of them to meet, and yet it only happened when he found her moving in on his floor as his second year of being an RA.
“I suppose it is,” he replies before a sip of his beer. The bitter taste is without even a hint of the citrus fruits that were promised at the start of the night, though even as the alcohol dissipates into his system, he still feels that bitterness when he realizes that it isn’t the beverage bugging him.
Perhaps he should, instead, say that if this were with anybody else, then he wouldn’t have minded being withered down to a simple fuckboy status. But because this is her—the very active presence in the background of his thoughts with your kind, inquisitive smile and witty quips that get him to flush with laughter—he is bothered at himself than anything else.
She tilts her head at him and asks, “What’s wrong?”
He catches himself before he can ask how she knows something’s up, because he isn’t sure how he would respond. Truthfully, he doesn’t want to admit to the truth that has been bubbling up inside him like Coca-cola fizz, or the result of an extremely bad hangover. The aftermath is far from pretty, jarring even if she hasn’t suspected anything from him.
“Nothin—” Her glare stops him.
“You’re terrible at bullshitting, Jimin. I hope you know that.”
“I’m just tired,” he says, hoping to convince her (and himself), but he would take anyone’s belief right now. He would arguably appreciate one of his idiotic frat brothers coming over to steal him away, so he won’t have to face this reality.
“Let’s go then.”
“What?” he blurts out, unsure if he heard her correctly.
She grabs onto his arm before he can say another word, already taking a few steps before tripping over herself. He reacts quickly, of course. Her own body now leaning against him as he navigates her both out of the too-warm house and into the cool, crisp air outside. It swarms them both and whisks away the smell of sweat and booze as they both walk down the street toward the dormitories. He almost can’t believe she isn’t pulling away. In fact, he almost goes into shock when she actually gravitates back to him when he tries to create distance between them.
“Stay here. I might trip and die if you keep leaving me,” she says with a small frown.
Jimin swears it’s actually a pout, but her pouting is an image he never thought he would live to see. Because while they both often talked casually, the space she puts between them is intentional. By disallowing him the privy of seeing her in any other aspect but surface, it is to make sure he knows that she has no intentions of falling for his charms and becoming one of his many fling casualties. He has long since accepted this, conditioning himself to the quips and the distance if only to remain in her life. It’s kind of pathetic. He never would’ve thought he would be like this with someone, walking on eggshells and still hoping to have a moment longer with them, but she makes it easy for someone like him.
“Are you sure you want me walking you home? I thought you didn’t trust fuckboys like me.” He doesn’t mean to sound so self-deprecating, but he figures he can pass off his behavior as being tipsy whenever she confronts him about it.
But she surprises him yet again when she doesn’t. Instead she shrugs with a sway as each steps on the blemished gravel makes a steady path harder.
“You’re my RA. Shouldn’t I trust you?” There’s a twinge of sarcasm laced between her words, but he knows the semblance of truth is still there. Even if he has to squint to see it.
“Well, true...” When she stumbles into his bicep, a realization strikes him as quickly as her cheek does and he has to make sure to be extra careful when walking with her. He’s dense as hell, so he has to ask to make sure. “Hey, are you drunk?”
“No!” She tries to tell him with a straight face, but a peal of laughter escapes past her lips, making his heart beat out of pace and into some sputtering wreck. “Yeah, okay. A little.”
Of course, she’s drunk.
Considering she has never really let him stand this close to her (something he has respected), it should’ve clicked before, what with her stumbling out of the house and clinging onto him like a lifeline. Normal circumstances would’ve put them at a whole meter distance instead of this millimeter one. Nor would he have an opportunity to walk with her unless it happened by chance. And, he doesn’t mind at all, really walking with her is its own bonus to keeping her safe.
Jimin’s only concern right now is getting her back to her dorm, away from the danger that lurks on dark, empty streets, from the copious amounts of booze offered at every corner of his frat house, and most of all, his brothers either lurking about to spill his dreaded secret or just to flirt to get a response out of him (though it would’ve also been out of their own prerogatives as well). He hates to think that there’s some need to stake claim to her, because he just can’t see that with her, or anyone really. He’s never been that territorial kind of guy, as raunchous as his reputation precedes him, things just happen. Perhaps there’s a game of hard-to-get, but too much hard isn’t his forté, nor is too easy either. He likes the middle ground, where there’s a push-and-pull, an equilibrium of sorts that can subdue and enthrall him all the same; where he’s more himself than just bits and pieces conjured at times that necessitate certain him’s; where as shitty as he feels, he can still somehow feel better, even in situations where he is simply walking back home. He likes, well, her.
It’s such a stupid thought when he reiterates to himself that she isn’t just anybody to him, because no fucking shit she isn’t just anybody. To anyone at all. She’s a godsend, a damn gift, a person that—if he ever had to guts to say—makes him want to connect, to finally bridge a gap with someone that hasn’t been his friend for more than five years, because he loves his friends. They’re the best people in his life. But her? She holds down her own tier, effortlessly.
He realizes they’re both almost back at the dorm, her room, to be very exact. He’s disappointed at not having been able to talk to her, but he blames his mouth’s current inability to open and create sound. He wishes to brave that jump and just let her hear what his heart wants him to finally say. But when he looks at her underneath the bright fluorescent lights, he suddenly finds any and all words caught and jumbled in his throat like a bad traffic jam on a three-day weekend. He just can’t stop looking at her. Like really looking at her. It isn’t her constant rejection that bugs him, or even her at all, it’s what he knows she sees that really gets to him.
“What?” They both seem to say, breaking away the faintest of tension in the air. He laughs and so does she.
The more he urges himself to speak, the less he feels brave enough to do so. Even though a part of him wants to hear the truth so he can finally get over this, another doesn’t want to. That part would rather live in the suspense and hope for reciprocation.
“You look like you want to say something,” she points out. Her gaze flickers over his visage with careful consideration, though it looks more adorable with the small pout adorning her lips. He can’t say this is the first time he’s seen her like this, but that memory is faint and fading in favor of this new one. Whether it’s good or bad makes him even more nervous. “Jimin, spit it out.”
“I—” He pauses. “You’re still drunk right?”
She snorts, giving a nod as she leans against your door. “That can’t fade in a ten-minute walk, J. Why?”
“Okay, good… I wanna ask you something then.”
“Is it another pick-up line? Because, c’mon now, those are getting old. At this point, they’ve become keep away sirens like ‘wee-woo, fuckboy alert! Wee-woo!’” He can’t tell if she’s joking. He wants to say yes, but the joviality in her eyes barely matches the fatigue in her tone, and the reality of rejection seems to sink in more than ever.
“No, not that,” he says in a small whisper.
“What then?” She tilts her head, either out of curiosity or increasing sleepiness.
For obvious reasons, he expects the words to refuse to come. His courage dissipating alongside them. He doesn’t want to face reality with her, he prefers the comfort of the usual, he likes her jabs and their banters, he likes being this close without being too close, and even though he hates the unknown, he likes not knowing whether she likes him back or not.
“I’d been planning on saying this for a while, but…” He shakes his head, instead he says, “It’s nothing. Have a good night, okay?”
She blinks, unsure of what to make of the sudden change probably. “Are you sure?”
He nods. “I’ll just wait until you get in, and I’ll leave you be for the rest of the night.”
She softly says okay, fumbling with her keys but managing.
Jimin watches as she gets inside, he swears she pauses and it looks like she has more to say but seems to decide against it, and instead an exchange of small waves passes between them before she shuts the door.
He can suddenly breathe properly then.
Maybe next time.
/
Next time finds its way to him the following morning.
She sent him a text just to see if Jimin was awake and she came knocking not too long afterwards. The know is a simple beat, one of which she came up with for the sole purpose of having someone to corroborate a potential alibi with, not that any of the other RAs have ever cared. But it was something Jimin and she shared, and it was something he was grateful for nonetheless.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, just as she did last night but this time sober.
He opens his mouth before shutting it immediately, falling prey to the hard stare she gives him.
“No bullshitting, Jimin.”
He steps aside to let her in. She takes perch on his desk, while he remains leaning against the now shut door. His nerves are bubbling back up again, but there is no escape this time.
“I know there’s something on your mind. You were so… quiet last night, even brooding you has more to say than you did last night, so as your friend, someone that knows you were running away from something—I have no idea what—please talk to me. You sounded like you had something to say, but you didn’t and I’m both curious and concerned to hear it.”
“Can you be honest about something with me?” he asks softly. He sits on his unmade bed and meets her eyes. Despite how much he would love to read into the fact that she caught on to how odd he was acting, he chalks that up to her being the observant person that she is, not a testament to feelings she probably isn’t harboring for him.
She nods.
“Am I just a fuckboy to you? It sounds ridiculous aloud, but with all the jabs you throw my way, it makes me wonder if that’s the only way you see me. I get it, I definitely deserve it. My reputation and all that precedes me. But it’s hard when I hope you might see me otherwise… I guess, if that makes any sense.”
He says all this with a wandering eye, the bulletin board with photos of his friends and family looking a lot less intimidating to even the awfully patterned carpet.
“See you otherwise…” she repeats, catching his attention with clearing her throat. “Jimin, do you want to know how I really feel about you?”
“Yeah, of course.”
She smiles a little. “I think you’re a great guy. Surprise, surprise right? I mean why else would I hang around you? You’re funny and sweet for the most part, and what you did last night stuck with me well into the night, because if I thought you were just like any other fuckboy on this campus, I would’ve accepted a walk home from any one of my other friends willing to do it. I wouldn’t have asked what was bothering you, in fact I was hoping you’d tell me on the walk, but Jimin, you didn’t try to make a move on me like any other asshole who would’ve when I was drunk, and besides that… I feel very fond of you.”
Jimin is speechless. The shroud of uncertainty lifting like clouds parting to make way for the sun. He can’t help but break out into a large grin.
“Does that clarify a few things?”
“It does. Thank you,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “Holy shit.”
“Who knew you were so shy?”
He wants to scoff, but he can’t and they both know it. “I’m sorry, I’m shit at this kind of thing. I don’t know how to do the fairy tale kind of love. I thought I could once upon a time, but you know how that went—poorly—and here I am, struggling and trying. Even if this wasn’t an ideal confession, I want you to know that I feel very fond of you too, by the way.”
“None of this has to be fairy tale perfect, or well, Disney fairytale perfect. It can be Brothers Grimm perfect, sans all the death and gore. I don’t mind that you’re learning. I am too, alright? We can learn to get something right together. That sound good?”
“It sounds Disney fairytale perfect,” he says, and she snorts.
“Good, because I think Disney fairytale perfect entails that we deserve some non-dining commons breakfast food. Me, especially for coming here despite having been drunk last night.”
“How does breakfast at Black Bear Diner sound?”
“It’s a date, you ready?”
“With you, of course.”
He grabs his keys and shucks on a sweatshirt from his closet, her soon following suit, as they have the first of many dates.
#jimin scenarios#jimin fanfic#jimin angst#jimin fluff#jimin au#bts scenarios#bts fanfic#bts angst#bts fluff#bts au#jimin x reader#emwrites
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all the more reason, chapter 6
ao3 link here!
Roger Taylor, dead as a doorknob, and his best friend John Deacon (also dead) meet some blokes who are decidedly NOT. Dead, that is.
(aka that ghost au that no one asked for, featuring Gay Panic™, John’s sass, and Brian being too endearing for this world. the overall vibe of the fic is not sad, if that’s a concern for you, but it does get rather melancholic. they are dead, after all.)
“Holy shit.”
John’s grip on the back of the sofa slips, and he elbows Roger in the back of the head. Roger can say nothing, only nod in agreement, his skull throbbing dully.
Freddie smiles, lips curled over his teeth, and turns back to Brian. “Well, they’re delightful. Where did you find them, the playground out back?”
Brian cants his head, and a new flood of panic rushes through Roger so fast he's near dizzy from it. He can’t help but turn to John, who looks something like a mouse pinned beneath the gaze of a hungry cat.
“This is Roger,” Brian says, slowly, like he’s worried about Freddie’s mental stability. Which is fair. “Met him at school, actually. He’s a Biology student.”
Freddie’s gaze, sharper than it has any right to be, flicks from John, to Roger, to Brian, then back to Roger. He’s got the look of a man who’s processing at an alarming rate, and Roger recognizes it instantly because it’s a look he often sees on John’s face. He opens his mouth, then closes is, completely unable to think of anything to say. John shifts again behind him, and Roger turns to see him with a hand up in a fragile little wave.
In a flash, Roger forgets about Brian and about Freddie, and turns fully to look at John, who’s gone quite white. Ignoring any semblance of consequence, Roger shifts and puts his hand over John’s, who’s got a death grip on the back of the sofa. He watches as John let out a breath, and says, “hello,” to the first living man that can see him.
Roger turns back to Freddie, whose lips are pursed and eyes assessing. There’s comprehension there, and acknowledgement, and space for a whole conversation. But in a blink the look is gone, and Freddie’s turned back to his friend. “A biology student? Brian, I never knew you’d stoop so low.”
Brian’s still looking at him a bit oddly, so Roger leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees and says, “attitude like that, you must be an arts student.”
Freddie’s smile takes a turn for the wicked. “I didn’t take you for romancing bitches, Brian.”
Brian makes a sound like he’s choking, but it’s drowned out by Roger’s surprised laugh. “Something tells me I’m not the bitchiest person in the room, mate,” he counters, standing and holding a hand out for Freddie to shake, unthinking.
Roger realizes his mistake almost immediately, but he can’t back down now, but apparently his worries are unfounded. The man ignores it and loops his arm around Roger’s shoulders instead, pulling him so close their heads knock, other hand coming up to pat at his chest. His warmth is the same as Brian’s, thrumming with energy in ways it shouldn’t be, and behind him John makes a noise like he’s being strangled.
“Well, you’re right about at least one thing, Rog,” Freddie says, like they’ve been friends for years.
The floor feels like the deck of a ship, and Roger laughs shakily, managing to say, “at least one person acknowledges I can be right sometimes,” before backing out of Freddie’s grip. “Gotta hit the head,” he adds, turning to Brian with a question in his eyes.
“Down that way,” he supplies, looking a bit overwhelmed, which Roger thinks is entirely unfair, considering the very fabric of his existence is undergoing a rather dramatic remodel. And then there’s John.
Roger catches his gaze and John slinks around the sofa, looking at Freddie like he’s a predator about to give chase before following Roger to Brian’s loo.
“Oh my god,” he says the second the door’s shut, turning to Roger with wide eyes. A hand comes up to his mouth, and he gasps, “oh my god,” again into his palm.
“Hey, Deaky, hey,” Roger whispers, rubbing his hands up and down his arms in a feeble attempt at comfort. “This is a good thing, yeah?”
John stares at him as he shakes in his grip, holding his gaze unblinking for too long before nodding once, a jerk of his head. It sends his hair from behind his shoulders to the front, and Roger brings a hand up to fiddle with the strands.
“This is good,” he repeats for John, hoping his expression is a better reflection than how confident he feels. Because for all their unsurety, it is. Roger might not know the why’s and the how’s about what’s happening to him, but he’s not alone in it anymore. He was never alone, he knows - John’s too good a person to leave him alone in this, even though he’d probably deserve it - but now John gets to know what it feels like to be seen, to be touched again.
“Maybe you should talk to him?” Roger says when John says nothing, just keeps staring at him.
The reaction is an immediate shake of his head. Roger feels a teasing retort rise to his lips, reminding John just how he was when Roger reacted in much the same way, but resists the urge and smiles instead.
“Doesn’t have to be now, but you’re talking to him. We both are,” he decides, and his tone brooks no room for argument. John’s shoulders, which were creeping somewhere along the level of his ears, drop as the tension seems to melt out of him. For a moment, Roger thinks he might need to catch him, for fear of him falling, but he just leans heavily onto the closed door, hand coming back up to cover his mouth.
“Yeah,” he mumbles eventually. “Yeah.”
“C’mon,” Roger says, giving his arms one final rub for comfort, “we’d better get back out there before Brian thinks I’m taking a shit in his toilet.”
It surprises a chuckle out of John, who swats him but looks a bit less shaken, and Roger knocks him gently on the side of the head before opening the door and going back out to their waiting hosts.
“So, you’re the singer, yeah?” Roger says, walking over to Freddie with his hands on his hips, posture as relaxed as he can make it. John’s at his shoulder, arm touching his elbow, and Roger doesn’t have to look to know he’s trying very hard not to stare at the man.
The man who’s looking at John with a smile, eyes narrowed and thoughtful. “Ooh, the singer, I like that,” he replies, but his gaze is still all for John.
Brian doesn’t seem to notice, because he’s shaking his head and taking a swig of his beer before saying, “right to his head, I tell you.”
Roger feels suddenly cornered, and rubbing his palms on his jeans doesn’t seem to assuage the feeling. He doesn’t know how to handle Brian, what to do about Freddie, and John, who’s normally a comfort, is now shaking against his arm.
Freddie’s said something to Brian, taking the attention off of them for a moment, and Roger interrupts tactlessly with, “sorry, guys, but I think I’m gonna head home. Feeling a bit peaked.”
Brian looks like a cross between disappointed and confused, and it damn near makes Roger double back, but John’s leaving his side while mumbling, “you don’t have to, Rog,” before phasing completely through the front door. Freddie tactfully doesn’t watch him go, but does stare Roger down, head cocked and eyes appraising.
Decision made, he says, “thanks for the beer, I’ll see you soon, yeah?” to Brian, taking the few steps to reach him before touching his elbow lightly. He doesn’t have to put much effort into looking sorry. “Nice to meet you,” he adds, glancing over at Freddie, whose stare is unnerving.
“Pleasure was all mine, dear. Do come and visit.”
Roger gives a feeble one-handed wave, and nearly walks straight through the door. Remembering at the last second, he grabs the door handle and twists it open with an unpracticed hand, before pulling it open and shutting it softly behind him.
The doorway that greets him is empty, which throws Roger off, as his mouth had already been open to try and give John the reassurements that would likely fall on stubborn ears.
Pot, kettle. Roger huffs and takes the stairs two at a time, ready to start hollering his name, but it seems he needn’t have worried - John’s sitting on the curb at the base of the steps, knees folded to his chest and chin propped up on them.
Roger eases his way down and leans too much weight against him, causing John to nearly overbalance. He blinks rapidly but looks over at Roger with a steady enough look, one brow even raised. Roger’ll take it.
“Alright?” He asks, then chuckles and adds, “stupid question, I know.”
John exhales on a dry laugh, eyes sliding shut and hands clenching around his shins. “Now I feel like an ass for taking the piss out on you,” he mumbles into his knees.
Roger shrugs even though he knows John can’t see it. “I probably deserved it.”
Tilting his head, John looks over at Roger with a half-lidded gaze, expression open and contemplative. It lasts for a moment too long, and soon Roger’s wilting a bit under the attention, because he already feels taken apart tonight, he doesn’t exactly like it coming from John, too. He looks like he’s going to say something, though, and Roger when opens his mouth to tell him to get on with it, John turns away so suddenly Roger’s mouth closes with a clack of his teeth.
“Thank you for leaving, even though you shouldn’t have,” John says to the thatch of weeds beside his left shoe. “Means a lot.”
Roger shoves him again, this time a hair too hard, and John has to stretch out a hand to catch himself before he goes ass over tits on the pavement. It earns Roger a glare, and he maturely sticks his tongue out in rebuttal. “I wasn’t gonna stay, not with you shaking like a lamb.”
John frowns - no, Roger would go so hard as to call it a pout. “Wasn’t.”
“A foal, then.”
“You’ve made your point, I think, Roger.”
They’re at a standoff, Roger leaning into John’s space with eyebrows raised and John holding steady beneath his prying eyes, until he finally deflates, shoulders dropping as he lets out a breath beneath the weight of Roger’s gaze. “I panicked,” he finally admits. “Happy?”
“I’m always happy,” Roger says, and it surprises a laugh out of John.
“Yeah, alright.”
“Enough of this,” Roger declares, bringing his hands down onto his thighs with a loud slap. Standing, he holds out a hand for John to take, which he does with no hesitation. “You know,” he adds, one John’s standing, Roger looping an arm over his shoulders, “this Freddie might be your Brian May.”
“Stuff it,” John says, smiling sideways at him through a veil of hair.
“And they know each other. What are the odds, right? Destined to meet, we were.”
For once, John seems content under Roger’s touch, leaning in as they walk slowly down the lot. It’s both proof that John was well and truly shaken, as well as evidence that he’s slowly learning to like Roger’s touch. Maybe it’s his way of readying himself for Freddie’s.
“Guess so,” John murmurs, and he looks down at his feet, lips still curled in a soft smile.
#maylor#deacury#queen fic#fic: atmr#all the more reason#my fic#hi yes hello i'm FINALLY CAUGHT UP TO MY ARCHIVE#in other news i need to actually write ch 7
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A Different Time pt3
Warning: Scientific Nerdy Ninja, strong language
MasterList
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Chapter 3 – Tactless Advice
It was a bit of a shock to see my friend standing before me but there was still no doubt that it was him. Yukimura turned around and gave me a happy smile and a wave.
“Hey Sasuke long time no see.”
Finally reaching his side we share a small fist bump before walking towards the Inn where I have my room.
“Why are you here Yukimura?”
“Hey what’s with that? You not want to see me?” He pulls a small pout answering my question with a question.
“It’s not that, I’m always happy to see my bestie you know that. I’m just surprised because you have no business here as far as I can remember.” There was no reason for Yukimura to be here. Azuki was where he had been given orders to seek out information in not all the way out here in the back of beyond. Also, he was on a break. Lord Shingen called it time off for good behaviour. It sort of made it sound like an early release from prison.
“Yeah that… Lord Kenshin was getting all worked up and so Lord Shingen cut my time off from spying a bit and sent me here to check on you so I could report back that you are ok. It has been nearly a week you know?” Yukimura tilted his head as he looked at me.
Drawing a mental tally of time spent traveling, then being thwarted in my attempts to gain access to the Daimyo’s residence, I realised he was right. My previous estimate on time for this mission had racked up a number of delays. The image of her popped up in my head. What on earth was that about?
“I’m sorry to have been the fuel that drove you into having to come and check on me.” I shook my head a bit, attempting to clear the image from my mind whilst also apologising.
“Oh, don’t give me that I wasn’t that worried. To be honest I’m glad to get away again Lord Shingen is driving me mad with his constant sneaking around looking for sweets and chasing every woman he can find in town. Don’t get me started on Lord Kenshin, I think that man is starting to go even crazier. You know he challenged a member of kitchen staff to a sword fight the other day because he was given the wrong tea set?” Yukimura sounded exasperated as he described the situation at home.
“That does sound pretty dire. I’m sorry you had to go through all of that alone.” I held my tone together somehow whilst simultaneously apologising and trying to avoid sniggering at my poor friend’s experience. I knew it could be bad our Lords seemed to require babysitters, if I’m honest though Lord Shingen is more laid back. Lord Kenshin whilst a brilliant man, is also an acquired taste much like his prized sake and pickle plums combination.
“No, you’re not! I can hear you smirking even if your face hasn’t cracked into one. Anyway, what’s taking you so long? Thought you said it was an easy in and out job.” Yukimura put his arm on my shoulder dragging me towards him in a conspiratorial fashion.
“I would prefer to have this discussion inside.” He nodded in agreement and followed me inside. The owner of the inn was a very nice old man and he managed to arrange for Yukimura to have a room near mine. Bowing in gratitude we left the front of house retreating to the back and into my room.
---
After several cups of tea, and a carafe of sake, Yukimura finally had been clued in on all that had happened. And now in a typical Yukimura fashion had exploded into a full range of emotions that would put a modern-day actor to shame if they had been told to recreate it.
“So, you are telling me that a female ninja who had been attacking you for the last few days invited you to her camp and you just went along with her?” His jaw hanging open like that made him look a little like a koi in a pond.
“Yukimura you are getting the wrong idea.”
“Wrong idea? Sasuke man seriously. It’s basic survival, you don’t just follow your enemy.” Yukimura smacked his palm onto his forehead in frustration.
“But she isn’t my enemy.” We had been going in circles with the same topic for a while now. I had been up all night and was planning on retiring to my futon as soon as I arrived back to my room but with the arrival of Yukimura I had rejected the idea until we had finished talking.
“So, what you fancy her?”
“Pardon?” His adamant tone of voice as he said that caught me off guard and I nearly repeated my blunder from earlier with her by inhaling my tea.
“You like her. You know as a woman. Ack don’t make me spell it out man seriously I haven’t had enough to drink to have that conversation with you.” Yukimura had turned red all over his face right the way to the tips of his ears. It was an endearing quality in my friend. He found something so uncomfortable to talk about and yet still attempted to do his best and talk about them regardless of his own embarrassment. I however wasn’t entirely focused on that right now. I was trying to assess the accuracy of his statement. How do I feel about her? I don’t even know her name.
“I would have to say that based on current levels of understanding and data that I have gathered on the subject that there may be a possibility, given the right circumstances and all the varying factors involved. That is to say the increased levels of adrenaline and norepinephrine in me causing my heart rate to increase, that I could possibly find myself in an infatuated state with her at some point in the future.” I spoke as I tried to process my own feelings and thoughts into words.
I had taken to studying the social interaction of people after I arrived in this era, partly due to trying to fit in for work purposes but also partly because the way in which couples interact in this time seemed to be more open and easier to study. There were not the modern issues of embarrassment about all PDA situations. It was an intriguing notation to me that I could compare romantic entablements in the Sengoku period to modern era entanglements.
“So, you want to have sex with her then.” Yukimura blurted out as he rolled his eyes.
“Yukimura there are times your level of understanding and tactlessness astound me.” I had often experienced Yukimura and his outbursts of tactlessness but that had been with women present.
He didn’t usually do something similar when we were in private. Or maybe it was because this was not a topic that normally involved me directly. It was normal for us to talk about everything and anything and naturally the topic of females did arise from time to time but it was more generalised. Yukimura seemed to actively avoid relations with women except for casual hook ups and although I can say I could see the appeal I also knew deep down it was not something that I would really enjoy past a basic chemical level.
“Well yes or no?” Yukimura had leaned forward to look into my face. Clearly the sake had relaxed him enough to forget the idea of personal space.
“It isn’t as simple as that.” I sighed as I pushed myself to stand and retrieve some sake for myself. If we were to continue this discussion regardless of time of day I was going to require something stronger than tea.
“Sure, it is. Sasuke we are living in a world of uncertain futures. You could die at any minute. My point is if you want something you are going to have to be willing to take a risk.” Yukimura was always sincere and his voice right now also carried with it the weight of personal experience and a desire to help. I found my mind racing once more and the image of her rose again in the sea of thoughts and queries. What do I want to happen?
---
Yukimura eventually left my room in search of food and left me to get some sleep. It was now much later and I was watching from a window as the blue and purple hues of twilight changed into the darker shades of night. It was nearly time to go to work.
I gathered my swords strapping them onto my back in a way that meant I could move even if it did make navigating in the crawl spaces of a ceiling awkward. I strapped my throwing knifes onto my leg and made sure I had an adequate amount of smoke bombs and ground spikes tucked into my tunic. Leaving the room via the window I hopped from roof top to tree to rooftop and balcony until I reached a quite street and dropped to the ground to walk on terra firma.
My mind wandered back to the conversation earlier and my unanswered questions bubbled up again to the surface of my mind. Could I handle leaving here and the possibility of not seeing her again? Does she feel the same? Could she feel the same?
Well we had only just met and just because we were both from the future was no guarantee that she would be attracted to me. Also, she might already have someone she is romantically attached to. The idea my logical brain had put up as an issue to my curious emotional internal discussion made me feel a little like the ground spikes in my tunic had imbedded into my chest.
I stopped at the corner of the intersection between the road leading into town and the road that led to the compound. There were guards in the area and although they didn’t seem to be particularly well trained it would have been reckless to assume that they couldn’t get lucky. Lord Kenshin’s training had resulted in me developing skills that built on what he called “natural abilities.”
When I asked to be trained as one of his Ninjas it wasn’t an immediate yes. I had saved his life and Kenshin knew that, but he wanted me to prove I was worthy to take on the tasks of a ninja in training. It took about 4 months of him running me like I was some sort of pack animal crossed with delivery boy.
The menial tasks he gave me blended in with basic training for strength and agility before finally he declared he would agree to me training on the proviso that he himself took care of my training personally. It was brutal.
I had so many bruises and cuts from the first year in training before I was strong enough to at least block a full Kenshin force style attack and rebuff his katana in order to get away. I had nightmares to start with a shudder ran up my spine just thinking of the sneak attacks. In modern-times we didn’t have sword wielding men randomly appearing actively trying to hurt you at every opportunity. It was like something from a pink panther movie crossed with a Texas chainsaw massacre.
Drawing back from my musings and memories, I watched as the two guards on patrol walked past me and slipped out of my hiding spot hauling myself up int a tree near the compound wall and swinging myself towards the stone fortifications.
– Cough, Cough –
Oh, fantastic. I flattened against the top of the wall and looked below me. I had managed to land above another guard. He was leaning against the wall smoking a pipe, the trails of smoke rising towards me in the darkness made my nose tickle. I suppressed a desire to sneeze and moved slowly crouched low along the wall away from the guy taking a smoking break.
It’s amazing how easily you can move when someone isn’t trying to throw something at you. The thought caused me to smile beneath my scarf and I scanned the area looking for my point of entry. It should be on this side but on the second floor. The building itself was two stories high, it wasn’t unheard of but it was a rarity in this era.
Clearly this Daimyo was as bad as rumour had you believe. Over taxing to gain more wealth and spending it on lavish bouts of self-indulgence and opulence. If Lord Kenshin had been here he would have cut down the second story of the manor himself. The idea of Lord Kenshin going toe to toe with a strong building made me feel amused. However, I also knew that for the God of War, even if his opponent was a brick wall he would still attempt to win. Something about the building and the amount of men on patrol guarding it had settled into the back of my mind since I first saw the place and it was still causing an uneasy feeling in me. What am I missing?
Rounding the walls, flitting between shadows I finally lined myself up with the entrance I was looking for. I say ‘entrance’, in actual fact it is just a small enough gap in one of the rooms of the castle. I don’t know why but the window there was always just a little open with its shutter put in place over it on the inside. Taking my chances that no one will see me, I dived onto the ledge by the window and pushed the shutter with my hand through the gap. It was loose and didn’t seem to make a noise so I entered in through the window and lowered myself soundlessly to the ground inside.
– Gr…mmm… –
There were moaning sounds of a someone in the darkness. Please tell me I haven’t just landed in someone’s bedroom while they are ‘preoccupied’. My eyes adjusted to the loss of light in the room and I could see the outlines of a few people but this was wrong. They were lined along the walls and either laying or sitting in place hardly moving. There was a very small lamp by what looked like the door to the room and I decided to light it and illuminate my curious mind. Almost as soon as I managed to light the lamp I regretted my choice.
“What the Hell?”
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