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shurisneakers · 5 years ago

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espresso [13]

Summary: In which your best friend’s brother begins to set you up on dates when you mention that you haven’t been in a relationship in years, but things don’t go as expected.

Warning: angst, pining

Word count: 2.1k (???)

A/N: hi ! all my love to @samingtonwilson for making me not sound like a 6 year old when i write this never-ending series and for being a true queen ! we stan an icon

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous part- Part 12 || Espresso Masterlist

To Bucky:

Can we talk?

From Bucky:

Coffee shop at 7?

To Bucky:

Okay.

It almost felt like déjà vu. But this time you were nervous, and not nearly as much as you were confused– a stark contrast to the meeting you had at this very location months ago to start this deal.

It was deserted– for now.

You knew the crowd would pick up gradually as students filtered in for their daily dose of caffeine, so you didn’t have much time.

You took a deep breath, pushed open the door, and let the bell above you jingle. A joyous sound for something so… jumbled up.

Bucky perked up at the noise, pausing momentarily from cleaning the counter.

I got this. I got this.

“Hey.” He sent a tiny lopsided smile your way as you took your place at one of the stools before the counter.

I don’t got this.

“Hey.” The confidence you’d felt just outside was beginning to slip away.

Fuck.

“Can I get you something to drink?” he asked politely, gesturing around to the menus in front of you. It was almost eerie how uncharacteristically silent your surroundings were.

“No, I’m good. Thank you though.”

He nodded as he pulled a stool towards him to sit. The counter separated the two of you. “We have about thirty minutes before the usuals start coming in.”

“Okay.”

Be brave. Be brave. Be brave.

“Did you read it? The letter?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

And it scared the shit out of me.

“Fucking hell,” you cursed, sighing lightly. “I’m so confused, James. It was so fucking confusing.”

“Why?”

“Because of the dates. Every time I thought there may be a hint of something more, you’d set me up on another date with some other guy who I didn’t even like. Did you do it on purpose?”

“No. Not consciously at least. I would never,” his voice slowly trailed off.

“But?” you pressed.

“But I did spend time thinking about it and… reflecting, I guess. And I think my defense mechanism or insecurities or whatever did have a role in it, but I never noticed until you pointed it out.”

“That’s a fucking dick move, you know.”

“I know,” he swallowed, tired eyes on the counter flitting up to meet yours. “I’m sorry. Truly. ”

“And what is it with these?” You pointed to the cups in front of you. “Why is everyone so obsessed with these?”

He leaned forward on his forearms. “I used to write little pieces of poetry whenever you came in. Or messages when you didn’t look like you were having a good day. Just innocuous stuff.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought you saw them but didn’t care. A bunch of times you threw them away pretty quickly so I kinda figured you were doing it to save me from humiliation. So I just stopped after a while.”

“I didn’t see them.”

“Yes, I know that now.”

“Do you remember some of the stuff you wrote?” you asked hopefully. “Do I get to read it now?”

“All of it.” He laughed and pulled away from the counter. “But you’re not going to see it again. It’s too embarrassing.”

“Why do you hate everything you write so much?”

He shrugged. “I tend to get dramatic a lot. And emotional.”

“That isn’t a bad thing.”

Wordless, he just picked up a cloth to wipe at some glasses he knew were already clean. Until, “Any more questions?”

“Why didn’t you like Rumlow?”

“Oh, come on.” He looked at you like you were kidding, disbelieving. His expression fell when he realized you weren’t. “Really?”

“Really. We’re getting all the skeletons out now.”

“Because-” a disgruntled sigh, “because he was absolute garbage! He was a fucking dick and I already hated him, but then he went and did that whole thing with Dot-“ he gestured wildly to make up for unfound words.

“-And after that I literally couldn’t look at his face without wanting to punch the living shit out of him.”

If it wasn’t clear by now, you could tell by the clench of his jaw that talking about Rumlow triggered something in Bucky.

Deciding to spare his anger before it spiraled through less important explanations, you pointed at the bandage wrapped around his knuckles. “What happened here?”

“Punched a wall.” That was a lie, you could tell. But you didn’t push it any further. “Pulled a Kyle.”

You rolled your eyes at his outdated joke, but he didn’t seem to mind, going back to wiping at the mugs in silence.

You just watched him breathe through it, his shoulders dropping tight tension as seconds passed.

“You know, you never actually told me what happened at the bar,” he spoke up, attempting to change the topic smoothly, but it didn’t go unnoticed.

“How much do you know?”

“Only what Dot told me, honestly.”

Fucking Dolores.

You groaned. “Dot? Fucking Dot knows about what happened?”

“She doesn’t know anything,” he interrupted before you had the chance to whine more.

You looked at him quizzically.

“It wasn’t my story to tell. She just said that your reaction made her realize there was some kind of history between you and Rumlow because no one leaves so suddenly in the middle of a conversation.”

You were gonna regret this but-

“Why was she in your room that day?”

He titled his head in confusion. “Which day?”

“Your birthday. I came to give you your present and she was wearing your shirt.”

It was like you couldn’t help yourself.

You cleared your throat after a beat, straightening your posture. “Actually, I’m sorry it’s none of my business. I didn’t-“

“Becca spilled her drink on her,” he explained coolly. Not defensive in the least. “I just gave her a shirt so that she didn’t have to stay in that for the rest of the night. Nothing happened between us.”

Oh. Becca had mentioned that she’d spilt her drink on fucking Dolores. Okay, maybe you didn’t connect the story. In anger. Maybe a little jealousy.

“I’m sorry, it wasn’t my place to ask.”

“It’s alright. I was going to clear it up that day but you left so suddenly.” You almost snorted as he continued, “She asked about you after the bar. She was a little worried.”

Slowly, the guilt of disliking her so badly was starting to creep into your mind. You’d always known there was no real reason to.

You owed her an apology basket.

Maybe two.

“What’s going on in your head? I can feel you thinking too much all the way here.”

“Who the hell writes people rejection letters, Bucky?” The thought was absurd enough to warrant a smile from you and a small laugh from him.

“Told you it was dorky.”

“Didn’t realize it was to this degree.”

“Yeah, well.” He shrugged, not saying anything to defend himself.

You glanced at the clock above the register. You had only ten minutes to go, and almost all the questions you had thought of had been answered.

Almost.

The one thing you wanted to know itched at you, aching to get out but you weren’t sure you had the confidence to just fucking ask-

“You good? Sure I can’t get you a-“

“Do you have feelings for me?” you asked directly. A straight shot.

His eyes widened slightly in surprise. To be honest, you were almost shocked yourself at how blunt you’d just been, but you were so tired. So tired. You wanted it done, out in the open. Clear air for once.

“Like, right now. This instant.”

“Y/N, I-” A sigh. A slow comb of his hands through his hair. A glance to the side.

“The letter, James.” You didn’t break your stare. Didn’t dare. Your heart felt two seconds from bursting through your chest. “You wrote it in the letter that you used to.”

No movement aside from a shift of his gaze downward, focusing on restless fingers. He pursed his lips, another sigh. But he said nothing.

Seconds of silence passed.

It almost felt suffocating.

Your eyebrows were knit together. “Bucky-”

“Yes.” You fell silent as his eyes met yours with little hesitation. “Yes. I do.”

You didn’t know what you were expecting him to say, but you froze. You opened your mouth but shut it again, unable to form any words. Well fuck.

His shrug was nonchalant, but the fall of his shoulders to a defeated slump was anything but. “Y/N, you have to know that our friendship means the world to me, and if this is going to change everything, then please, please stop me right now.” “I-”

“You’re my Mario,” his voice cracked but the corner of his lips tugged upwards. “I can’t afford to lose that.”

You didn’t know what to say. Of course everything it would change things between you. How could it not?

It’s not like you wanted to give up what you had with him. You didn’t know if you were being selfish, but the intensity of whatever it is that you were feeling was there and it hurt.

“Don’t-” he interrupted your train of thought with a restrained, almost forced smile. An attempt at confidence, perhaps. “Don’t overthink this. You really don’t have to say anything.”

“I just-” Bucky continued, another dramatic gesturing of his hands when words fell short. “Figured it was ‘bout time you knew. Properly.”

“Since when?” you sounded unsure.

“How long? Oh, man.” He laughed softly and shook his head. “Shits, I think it’s been a good couple of years now.”

Silently, you mulled it all over. Sat with it all for a minute.

He smiled, genuine now. No longer forced and tight, but relieved at the loss of the weight on his chest.

He set down the glass he was holding and swung the rag over his shoulder.

“I’m… fuckin’ shit at communication, Y/N,” he admitted as your lips pursed. “You know that. I couldn’t tell you, I couldn’t tell Dot. I couldn’t talk to Becca, forget anyone else. It’s so fucking hard for me to talk about-”

“Feelings?”

“Feelings,” he confirmed, nodding. “Emotions. It’s almost like I can’t. It’s easier just shut up and listen to others talk all the time.”

It made sense.

Even though he asked you not to overthink, everything he did was thought over, and then thought over again, and again and million more times just out of selfless concern.

“It feels selfish. And I hate feeling that way.”

You knew he wasn’t very open but this-

This was new to you. It didn’t shock you like you’d thought it would, but it was still… a little difficult to hear.

“What you feel is important too, you know. Not that you should feel that way, but it’s okay to be a little selfish,” you replied, voice soft.

“Yeah well-“ He paused before shaking his head. “Communicating is just something I have to work on, I guess.”

“Me too, apparently,” was your mumbled response.

All of this could have been avoided if you’d just had this conversation months ago. Like proper adults. Mature adults.

“We both have some serious issues,” he said lightly, cracking a smile at you.

You didn’t respond. You just played with the hem of your scarf, unraveling a piece of thread from the rest of it.

You could hear the sound of cars pulling up to the shop. A glance at the clock confirmed an incoming crowd.

But something felt incomplete.

You felt uneasy.

“Ah fuck, here they come,” he cursed, a quick smoothening his hair before pulling on his barista cap.

You took it as your sign to leave, gathering your few belongings that sat scattered before you.

“I’ll see you around Buck-”

“Y/N.”

You lifted your head to meet his stare.

“I know I shouldn’t really be asking this, but are we- We’re good, right?”

You stopped your own restless fidgeting.

You couldn’t tell him you weren’t sure, could you? Could you tell him that and that you were relieved?

Relieved that it hadn’t been in your head, that there were feelings on his end. Angry, though, that even if his intentions with the dates had been pure, what he did kinda sucked. That misunderstandings which could’ve been solved with a little maturity and a little communication lingered for so long, caused so many sleepless nights.

Could you tell him all of that and how it all hurt?

You knew he wasn’t looking for reciprocation. You knew he didn’t deem himself worthy of it. Even though he was good. Through it all, he was still good. Probably always would be. Too scared to hurt others, too scared to put the weight of his feelings on anyone else.

Maybe that’s why it was so confusing.

It was so fucking confusing.

His stare didn’t waver even as the bell above the door rang, signaling a new customer. Never a lapse in intensity.

“Yeah. I think we’re good.”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #college!bucky #college!au #college!bucky x reader #kumis5kchallenge #espresso fic

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artemissoteira · 3 years ago

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1 3 8 & 26 for moss

thanks Ozzy!! moss my nightmare weasel child. (DND char askmeme here.)

1. what is their coffee shop order?

you think I know anything about coffee?? hm. moss gets like, a quadruple espresso or something that is. not to the extent of the stories about 20-shot monstrosities that go around here sometimes, but is still like, oh, damn, okay, someone's got an exam to study for.

they don't have an exam to study for, though. they live on frat row and unofficially audit courses at university so everyone assumes that's what's going on. they just need to go fast.

also they don't like the taste of coffee so they chug it as fast as possible. it's never occurred to them to get actual good tasting drinks instead they assume you just have to suffer through it.

3. would/do they know how to drive a car? are they/would they be good at it?

in duskvol the primary transportation is GOAT CARRIAGES bc horses are too expensive and let me tell you, the instant JD gives us a goat carriage moss is going to be driving it. they definitely don't know how to drive. this will not stop them in any way.

edit: did this already happen?? my blades notes are shit but I do have a vague memory of JD letting me claim there was a goat carriage nearby as a getaway flashback and I might have claimed moss could drive. but I think they had a weird conversation with the goats about it and they definitely don't drive like a person. I just had surgery so I can't be blamed either way whether this is true.

if they did learn to drive a car though, I think they would be a good driver, if a scary one. they would go really fast but still be in control. they would love highway driving. driving is a puzzle where you need to figure out how to get to your goal while in constant motion in a shared space of everyone else also moving towards their goals in very clear and structured ways. and you go fast. moss would love it.

if the weasel took control while driving though all bets would be off. Chase.

8. what is the most interesting thing that they regularly carry on their person?

hmm well they have bioluminescent mushrooms that grow behind their ears, but that doesn't really count as carrying. mechanically in blades you don't have to declare inventory until after you use something; they have a fine shadow silk robe that tucks shadows around you that they like to use. and last game they pulled out some kind of, like, soul anchor rock that they used to transfer a child's consciousness to a weasel, accidentally taking the weasel into their own consciousness in the process.

but regularly... I think they carry around dirt from the rooftops in different parts of the city. not a lot of dirt, they just like to make sure they have a little bit from everywhere in their pockets, to help stay rooted to where they are. they have a small pouch of dirt from the ghostlands, beyond the barrier, that they wear around their neck; they haven't opened it in years.

26. do they like to collect things? if so, what?

yes! they like old things, things with history, things that have lasted. what they do on frat row is go to frat parties and then disappear into the attics and poke around for things that are interesting or old or forgotten. sometimes they've been hired to do this in like a robbery way, but mostly it's for fun. they have a one-sided rivalry with a locksmith (Frank?) which I'm going to decide started when they did a slew of B&Es down a block of houses that Frank did maintenance for. they didn't actually steal anything of value, just moved a bunch of things around and took some like, quilts or old army trash or something. they weren't used to picking modern locks so they did a real rough job on them and Frank had to deal with repairing them.

I think Moss maybe also went and asked Frank about how locks work beforehand, so that they could figure out how to break into them. Frank thought they were gonna be buddies (which moss also still thinks) but he put two and two together and now thinks moss was just using him. which, they kind of were, so, fair.

#re: weasel chase; why do all my characters have such a strong prey drive #thx for asking abt moss my buddy moss!#moss

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keelywolfe · 4 years ago

Text

Drabble: Serving Size (baon)

Summary: Humor, like beauty, is the eye of the beholder

Note: Sorry, I’ve been forgetting to add drabbles here

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationships, Domestic Fluff

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

Read it Here

~~*~~

“...so there we were,” Stretch snickered from where he was sprawled out on the sofa. Blue was sitting on the other end, and even with both of Stretch’s legs draped over the arm, the top of his skull was pressed to his brother’s thigh. “at the coffee shop and both of us had to get a venti, right, big ol’ tall cups, ‘cause anything less is for cowards who can’t hold their caffeine.”

“I don’t believe your choice in beverage size is what determines your nature, Papy,” Blue said primly.

From the corner where he was setting out plates on the folding table set up for the movie night snacks, Papyrus called, “Yes, it isn’t the size of the beverage but rather, the wonders that it contains!

“mine had two extra shots of espresso, so i’m in the lead,” Stretch said. “anyway, we’re walking towards the door out of the shop and edge has both of our drinks. and you know how he has to wear those long jackets so he can get the proper swoosh on the turns.”

“always has to be the fucking drama queen,” Red muttered. He was lying on the other sofa in a position remarkably similar to Stretch, only he was short enough that Sans could take a mirror position on the other side. “surprised he doesn’t still wear the scarf to swirl around.”

“don’t worry, he still gets plenty of miles on the scarf,” Stretch leered, “these days it’s more likely to get tied up in a running gag.” He ran his tongue over his teeth and a chorus of groans rounded the room, with Sans as the sole person snickering. “so, anyhow, we’re heading to the door, and this kid comes in before we can get through it.”

Edge said nothing, focused on setting out the various snacks that he’d brought over. The honey habanero buffalo wings hardly needed such careful positioning, nor the celery and the little cups filled with blue cheese dressing. None of them were about to last long once the crowd over there came to fill their plates, but if he focused on this, he wouldn’t need to hear the end of the story. He’d lived the event once and the memory of his coat tail getting caught in the door, yanking him off his feet and spilling the contents of two coffee cups over his head was not one he cared to re-endure. His husband hadn’t been remotely amused at the time, kneeling at his side in an instant to make sure he wasn’t hurt, and unexpected sting of Stretch’s laughter now was worse than the spilled coffee had been.

Focused as he was on the snack trays, he almost didn’t hear Stretch say, “actually, you know what? it’s not that funny, never mind.”

Red actually pushed up on one elbow to grumble out, “aw, come on, you can’t end it there!”

“sure, i can,” Stretch said cheerfully. He rolled over and stuck his tongue out at Red while simultaneously flipping him a middle finger. “you can live with disappointment.”

“been living with that most of my life.” But he let it drop, accepting the plate of cocktail wieners that Papyrus thrust into his hands, using a sharpened fingertip to skewer one like a sort of bony toothpick.

From behind him Edge could hear movement and he was not surprised when Stretch sidled up, both slim arms wrapping around Edge as he leaned heavily against Edge’s back, trusting him to keep them both on their feet.

“You didn’t have to stop,” Edge told him quietly. “I didn’t say a word.”

“babe, you were thinking ‘please, don’t’ so loudly i about lost an hp point,” Stretch said wryly. “i get it, i don’t need to share your super embarrassing stories.”

“I beg your pardon,” Edge said. He kept his voice light and teasing, only a tinged with gratitude. “Despite my preference for long coats, I was not actually wearing a cape, therefore the story is only regular embarrassing, there was nothing super about it.”

Stretch chuckled, the sharp puff of breath against the sensitive bones of his cervical vertebra made Edge shiver. “didn’t those cartoons we watched teach you anything? real heroes don’t need capes.” He let go of Edge to scoop up a plate. “now let me load up on the goods before we see what the movie of the week is.”

Normally, Edge would have made him wait his turn and no amount of wheedling would change his mind. This one time, he allowed Stretch unlimited access to the snack table, an unspoken reward for an unasked kindness.

Papyrus was right, it wasn’t the size, it was what it contained, and that was true for both coffee cups and souls.

And perhaps neither of them wore a cape, but when they returned home, Edge wasn’t ruling out a chance to get a little more mileage on that old scarf.

-fin

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

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writing-radionoises · 4 years ago

Text

everything will be alright

ship: mostly none, a side of odazai and fyodazai if you squint

genre: character study, hurt/comfort

prompt: osamu dazai was born without a will to live.

notes: tw for self harm, suicide, and mori bullshit

Dazai never really knew his parents.

He’s been passed around from person to person like a charity case for as long as he can remember, most of these people end up being a part of the Port Mafia.

Most of his early childhood is a blur, a lot of it was full of indifference, and ruthless training.

Between each and every Port Mafia member he was passed onto, he still had to go through the normal training of every Port Mafia member, despite being somewhere between four to thirteen years old and having no real desire to join the mafia.

He was truly set up for a life in the mafia from the moment he was born.

But regardless, training is difficult and painful. The training was meant for at least a sixteen year old, children in the mafia back then weren’t a popular thing.

Truthfully, Dazai might’ve been one of the youngest children to ever go through the Port Mafia training.

He can recall practice fights with faceless parental guardians, names and faces of adults he’d forget within a week, or something he’d see their face on the news two weeks later to find out they died.

He remembers learning to fire a basic handgun at the age of seven.

It hurt his hands a lot, he nearly fell over just from the sound of the handgun.

Dazai can recall a specific guardian who would choose not to feed him if he didn’t do well enough in his training. He was maybe nine years old at the time.

Regardless, the years of training and being surrounded by death cemented itself into Dazai’s brain, and he found himself losing any desire completely.

It started by losing his want for a brand new toys, things he would see on TV. Instead of being excited at the sight of the ads of those toys, he’d just switch the channel. At the time, Dazai just thought it was part of growing up, though it escalated from there.

He lost the desire to be an adult.

And eventually, he lost his desire to live.

It was at the age of ten that Dazai decided he would not live past the age of sixteen.

He’d kill himself before he reached his sixteenth birthday.

His first suicide attempt was in the bathroom at around noon, a mistake on his part. He took out a random pill bottle and downed the entire thing, and laid on the bathroom floor. Another mistake, the pills didn’t actually end up killing him. At worst, he just went to a doctor within the mafia, and was told not to do it again.

Though, his suicide attempts improved over time. He learned more and more how to successfully kill himself, each failure was a new thing learned.

Between the ages of ten to fourteen, Dazai lost track of the amount of suicide attempts he made. From overdosage to self harm, he tried it all.

The one that was the closest to being successful for him was when he tried to hang himself.

Dazai remembers, he had just been moved into a new guardian’s home, and had already had a plan.

The room he was moved in had the perfect place to hang a noose on. The thought of it had filled Dazai with some empty-like version of joy, the thought to finally be able to leave this world…

Little did he know it would be the worst mistake of his life, trying to hang himself that night.

He had just barely been saved, and taken to meet Dr. Mori Ogai.

And there would begin the worst years of Dazai’s life.

Dazai’s eyes opened slowly underneath the bright lights of the office, his wrists were restrained against the cold metal of the hospital bed he was laying in.

He was very cold. The restraints were tight against his wrists…

“Ah, you’re awake?�� Said a voice, to which Dazai turned his head to see an older man walking towards the bed.

He had medium length hair, slicked back with a few loose pieces. He looked like just about every other doctor Dazai had met, but his voice sent shivers down Dazai’s spine.

“Good morning, sleepyhead!” Greeted another voice, a younger girl who was now stood on the other side of Dazai’s bed, undoing the restraints on his wrists with a smile. She appeared to be a nurse.

“Can you tell me your name?” The doctor asked, his hands now placed on the metal railing of the bed.

“Osamu… Dazai?” Replied the brunette, his brows furrowing together.

“Good, it seems you’re sane,” said the doctor with a smile, “Dr. Mori Ogai, you may call me Mori.”

“Ogai-san…” Dazai started as the nurse undid his other restraint, he pulled his now loose wrist to his chest and rubbed at the sore forming, “Why did you let me live?” He finished, a defensive tone to his voice.

Mori only smiled, “I need you for something. Elise, help the boy up.”

The nurse did as she was told, grabbing Dazai bridal style and helping him stand. Dazai only got more and more confused as Mori handed him a black trenchcoat and a pair of shoes.

“We don’t have all that much time, now!”

Dazai remembers stumbling behind Mori, an arm around Elise’s shoulder as she helped him along the way into a grand room. Dazai is met with the sight of the Port Mafia boss laying in a large bed, coughing and wheezing as Mori stands above him with a smile.

Dazai holds his breath, looking between the boss and Mori as Elise begins to fade out away, leaving Dazai without support as he falls back and catches himself against the wall of the bedroom.

Dazai’s memory of the moment escapes him, hearing some sort of rant from the Port Mafia boss before Mori retrieves a scalpe from his pocket, cleaning it off with his coat and slashing the boss’s neck.

Blood splattered against the wall, and Dazai felt his eyes wide as Mori turned back to Dazai with a smile.

“If anyone asked, he left the Port Mafia to me. You won’t say otherwise,” he says, and Dazai feels a chill run down his spine.

He was fourteen years old, and his fear in the man named Mori Ogai had become the first emotion he felt in years.

Time went on, Dazai met more and more people.

He felt more and more pain.

The amount of times Mori had thrown him against walls, pinned him against counters, stepped on his chest, slashed at his arms with a scalpel, and so much more…

It took a toll against Dazai’s health, mental and physical.

The amount of scars only seemed to grow, and his urge to just die grew stronger and stronger.

He was a failure, he couldn’t seem to do anything right. He couldn’t even kill himself right.

He had lived past his life expectancy at the age of seventeen, and grew to avoid going home.

Where Mori was.

Instead, Dazai went to the bar. He drank until he could barely form a coherent thought.

It was then when he met a man named Oda Sakunosuke.

He had cut Dazai off from drinks at the bar, telling the bartender that he’d take care of Dazai and to instead give him water.

Dazai smiled as the bartender passed him a glass of water, lifting his head up.

“You’re here everyday, I watch you get shitfaced literally everyday,” said the ginger man, sitting a few seats away from Dazai, “Are you alright?”

Dazai smiled and shrugged, “I have no idea anymore.”

Oda gave a laugh, “Been there. Name’s Oda Sakunosuke. Sakunosuke is a mouthful, so most people call me Odasaku.”

“Osamu Dazai,” Dazai responded, “Nice to meet you, Odasaku.”

To say Odasaku and Dazai were friends would be an understatement. They became practically attached at the hip, always with each other when work wasn’t in the way.

Instead of going home to Mori, usually Dazai ended up at Odasaku’s apartment, one way or another.

And eventually, Ango Sakaguchi joined their little friend group. Ango was a stern young man, someone who had to be physically dragged away from work, and had little to no self regard for himself.

The three of them were great friends. Dazai can recall dancing in the kitchen with Odasaku, Ango falling asleep on his shoulder on the car ride back to Dazai’s place, making friendship bracelets with the both of them.

It was the happiest two years of Dazai’s life.

It reminded Dazai that his life was not Mori’s to own and control.

It was all fun and games until Mimic appeared, Ango’s triple life came to light, and eventually, led to Odasaku’s death.

Dazai became a shell of a human being, depressed and lonely.

His life went from a hundred to zero within an instant.

Dazai left the mafia.

In the years between joining the agency and leaving the Port Mafia, Dazai met a young man at a cafe.

He was a pretty thing, with an amazing understanding of English despite his Russian mother tongue.

His name was Fyodor Dostovesky. He was about the same age as Dazai, and had sat next to Dazai out of curiosity after Dazai ordered a coffee with eight shots of espresso.

“Eight shots? Why don’t you just do cocaine at that point?” Fyodor had said, sat across from Dazai with a smile, “... It is a joke. I doubt the staff here would appreciate you doing cocaine here.”

Dazai laughed, “Believe me, I’ve thought about it. I haven’t seen you before, are you from around here?”

Fyodor nodded a no, his hair moved along with his head, “What gave it away? The accent, or the clothes?” He joked once again.

Dazai only smiled in return. Perhaps it was a silly question, the other seemed to be wearing very clothes that are obviously not from Japan, they were made for cold winters.

“I am from St. Petersburg, Russia,” Fyodor explained, “I’m visiting.”

“Ah, what brings you to Yokohama?” Dazai questioned.

Fyodor glanced up, thinking before shrugging.

“I supposed I wanted a reason to use my fluency in Japanese,” he replied, “I learned out of impulse, very few people in Russia know Japanese, so I have no true reason to learn unless I’m going to Japan.”

“Ah, do you only know Russia and Japanese?”

Fyodor nodded a no, “I know a myriad of languages. Russian, Japanese, English, and French. Working on German.”

“You’re an interesting person,” Dazai mused, “Your name?”

Fyodor smiled in response, “Fyodor Dostovesky. I realize that in Japan it is last name, then first, though Dostovesky is a mouthful for foreigners. You may call me Fyodor.”

“Osamu Dazai,” Dazai replied, “Osamu works fine. Have a phone, by chance?”

Dazai can’t be mad. He knows he can’t, but instead, he pouts as he leans his head against the door of his apartment. He bits down on his lip and tries not to cry.

He shouldn’t be mad, Fyodor just said the truth.

They were just using each other to fill some void within themselves.

Dazai was just using Fyodor to try and forget about Odasaku, taking his kindness for granted and trying to fill his void of emotion.

He just misses Odasaku so much.

Fyodor was there at the right moment, he was pretty, he was kind of funny, and interesting.

What else was Dazai supposed to do? Odasaku would be so disappointed in him, he never wanted to use another person like that after leaving the mafia.

Not after seeing what the fuck he did to Akutagawa.

His head ends up on top of his knees, shaking and shivering from the force of his own emotions.

Why can’t he do anything right?

Fyodor lost against the agency. Dazai knew this would happen one way or another, the agency could not be destroyed as easily as he thought, and ultimately would lead to Fyodor’s downfall.

But still, Dazai feels some sort of hurt from the other as he approaches Fyodor, who is sitting on top on the rooftop and watching the sun go down.

He sits down beside Fyodor, who doesn’t pay him much mind.

His expression is blank, the sunset brings out the purple hues in his hair as Dazai gives a weak smile.

“It’s been awhile since we’ve talked as friends, hm?”

Fyodor nods in return, “It has, hasn’t it, Osamu?”

“Osamu?”

“What else should I call you?” Fyodor questioned, turning back to Dazai.

“Oh, Osamu’s fine,” he reassures, “You just called me Dazai on the battlefield.”

“I figured you did not want the whole agency knowing of our past relationship.”

“Ah, I don’t care anymore,” Dazai admits, “It was so long ago, it would just be another shitty thing they knew about me.”

“... What part of it is shitty?” Questioned the dark haired male once more, “That I was involved?”

Dazai nods a no, “No, truthfully. I think I was shitty to you as you were shitty to me, it was a two way street that I treated as a one way. You only spoke the truth back then, the truth I did not want to admit. I was using you. Had you known the whole time?”

Fyodor nods, “You aren’t as sneaky as you think.”

Dazai laughs a little bit, “Yeah, I’ve been told.”

There’s silence between the, watching the sunset on Yokohama as Fyodor bites down on his thumb.

“Are you happy now?” He asked, not turning to look at Dazai this time.

“I think so,” Dazai responds, “I don’t know. Happiness is such a strange concept these days.”

Fyodor swings his legs against the building, moving his gaze from the sun to his knees.

“I live with few regrets, Osamu,” he admits, “Though, I regret one thing. I regret watching you suffer like that, back in the day. I lack empathy, though compassion is not a foreign concept to me. I wish I had not pursued you like that, perhaps it would’ve saved you some suffering.” Dazai smiles, “I think you’re much kinder than you say, Fyodor.”

The other cracks a smile, “Perhaps. I wish you the best, though.”

Dazai hums a thank you, leaning his head on Fyodor’s shoulder.

He let out a breath of anxiety.

“I’ve been meaning to say this for years, though I’m not very good at apologizing. I’m sorry for using you like that, I’m sure that you didn’t have ill intentions at first, and were really just trying to figure out how emotions work. I took your kindness for granted, and that was shitty of me. I’m sorry.”

“You’re forgiven.”

Dazai pauses, looking back up at Fyodor curiously.

“That easily?”

“I have nothing to hold against you, Osamu,” he explains, “It is better to forgive than hold a grudge, anyway. As they say in Russia, До свадьбы заживет.”

Dazai quirked a brow “До свадьбы заживет?”

“It will heal before your wedding,” Fyodor translated, “Or rather, everything will be okay.”

Dazai smiled.

“До свадьбы заживет. Cute.”

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd odasaku #bsd osamu #osamu dazai #dazai osamu #odasaku sakunosuke #Oda Sakunosuke #odazai #oda x dazai #odasaku x dazai #fyodor x dazai #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #fyodor dostoevsky #bsd fyodor #mori ogai #mori ougai #bsd mori #bsd elise

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borathae · 5 years ago

Text

↳ Index [#08 Act Eight: Hand in Hand]

Warnings: none just the softest feels ever, although I did shed a few tears whilst writing the end, but that’s because I’m an emotional btch lmao

Wordcount: 6.7k

a/n: So this is the end. I gotta say I’m actually really sad that this story is finished. It was sort of my way of healing from a few burdening things which had happened in my life lately. Honestly I found hope again through this story, especially because of all the sweet messages I got from you guys 🥺 and seeing it finally end feels bittersweet to me. I hope you guys enjoyed reading it and never forget that I love you guys! 💜

Yoongi’s Competition Yay!

You stare at the calendar on your wall, reading the three little words you had written underneath today’s date in pink letters, over and over again.

They are taunting you, hurting each time you begin rereading them again. The competition started an hour ago, Yoongi must be so nervous right now. Or perhaps he already had his performance and is now celebrating with Taehyung in some bar in the city. Or perhaps he never even went and is sitting at home too scared to move.

You scoff, breaking your eyes from the calender.

What do you care? You won’t go anyways. Not after what had happened last week.

Yoongi made it perfectly clear that he doesn’t want to have anything to do with you anymore. Even when you and him had accidentally met at the little corner bakery just this morning, he hadn’t tried talking to you about what happened last week.

You had just walked down the road to get your morning coffee and cinnamon roll for breakfast when you had bumped into him by the counter. He was getting a black coffee with three extra shots of espresso like always. He was dressed nicely, black suit with a white shirt and a black bowtie, he even wore a calve-long coat over it. Unlike you, who was wearing nothing more than your ugliest sweatpants and the first hoodie you could find in your closet.

At first you had totally forgotten that you were angry at him, your heart fluttered in your chest and your lips twitched up into a smile. His’ did too, ever so slightly, although he looked more panicky than anything else.

But before you could even realise your real feelings for him he was already gone again, out of the door and hidden in the crowd of people walking down the streets.

He didn’t want to talk to you anymore.

You blink quickly to finally get rid of the burn in your eyes and actually start your Sunday. You already wasted your day away sulking on the sofa until the sun greeted the moon and at least - at night - you want to start being productive.

With the last bit of strength left in your feet, your drag yourself to the kitchen to cook something. You decide on some porridge and a nice cup of hot orange juice with cinnamon. It’s the least you deserve after getting your heart broken just days ago.

Once everything is done, smelling mouthwatering and making your stomach rumble, you sit down in front of your TV to watch your favourite movie.

You are twenty minutes into the movie and three bowls of porridge in, when your doorbell suddenly rings, making you jolt up in surprise.

You pause the movie, staring at the front door mere ten feet away from you. Another ring, longer than before. Then a knock, a very aggressive one.

With careful steps you tiptoe to your front door before taking a quick look through the spy, only to nearly choke on your own spit when seeing Taehyung’s face behind it.

“What are you doing here?” you ask once you have found enough courage to open the door.

“No, what are you doing here?” Taehyung asks accusingly.

“Uuuh...I live here?”

“I know that too, I meant what are you still doing here?”

“Where else should I be?”

“The competition? You know the one Yoongi competes in?”

“I’m not going.”

Taehyung huffs in surprise, staring at you with big eyes.

“You are kidding, right? It’s Yoongi’s big day tonight, you can’t miss out on that.”

“Well, I decided that I will miss out on it, so if you will excuse me now I have my favourite movie on. Po finally managed to crawl up the stairs to the Jade Palace and it’s getting exciting.”

Taehyung cocks an eyebrow at you.

“Your favourite movie is Kung Fu Panda?” he asks with judgment in his voice.

“Yes?” you cross your arms in front of your chest, shrugging your shoulders.

“Seriously? There are so many other films out there and you chose-“, he closes his eyes for a moment and raises his hand, “-actually, nevermind, I can judge you for your choice of entertainment another time.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes at him.

“I am here to get you out of your apartment and to the venue”, he says as he reaches for your arm.

“I told you I’m not going Taehyung”, you say, pulling back.

You already close the door on him, when his foot in the doorway stops you. He pushes the door open again, making you stumble back in the process. Once inside your apartment, he takes a quick moment to look around before he meets your eyes again.

“I’m not asking you to. I’m telling you to. What you and Yoongi are doing here, that weird fight you are having? It is ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous? Yoongi made it perfectly clear that he doesn’t want me in his life anymore when he called me a rat just like all the other people.”

Taehyung sighs in annoyance, brushing his hair out his face.

“Yoongi sometimes doesn’t quite know how to articulate his feelings in a way so that other people understand him. He didn’t mean what he said. Believe me, this man can’t live without you. He loves you. And not like he would love a friend, no he is head over heels in love with you.”

“What? No he isn’t in love with me, don’t lie to me.”

Taehyung blinks in confusion about your ongoing denial, balling his hands into fists by his sides. He says your name, his voice deep from trying to keep the anger in.

“I know him since we were little boys. I know how my friend feels without even needing to hear it and besides, he basically told me that he is in love with you when he came crying to me at three in the morning about your stupid fight.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

Taehyung scoffs, throwing his arms up in frustration. He takes a step closer to you, cupping your face and forcing you to look up at him. His pupils are blown out, his cheeks are reddened.

“I’m not lying to you, Yoongi loves you and you love him and by my great-grandmother's grave, please just go to this stupid competition and show him your support. He needs you and I’m pretty sure you need him too”, he stresses, shaking your head softly as if he wanted you to wake up from your delusions.

You study Taehyung’s face for a moment, your arms are crossed in front of your chest and your lips pouting. His eyes are silently pleading you to give in, to let your guard down and get over your pride.

“Why do you even care if I go or not?” you shake him off of you “Yoongi still has you for support, he doesn’t need me”, you won’t give in that easily.

“Because I like seeing him happy and you make him really happy. He’s been smiling so much lately, if I didn’t know that you were the reason for it I’m pretty sure I would be convinced that he is losing his mind.”

You lower your head, feeling giddy all of a sudden. Your ears heat up.

“Please ___ come with me”, Taehyung pleads, pouting.

His warm hand comes resting on your shoulder, giving you a gentle squeeze. You look up and into his eyes. Hope sparkles in them, hope that you would listen to your heart and follow him out of your apartment and to the venue.

You finally sigh in defeat, nodding your head.

“Okay”, you mumble quietly.

Taehyung can’t help but cheer, shaking you as he laughs loudly with bright eyes.

“Thank you so, so much. This is the best news ever, let’s go. Come on”, he says, taking your hand and dragging you out your front door.

With Taehyung owning a car, the normally hour long bus drive merely takes twenty minutes, which still gives you enough time to at least put some makeup on your otherwise bare face. Your clothes you sadly couldn’t change before having to leave your apartment forcefully, but thankfully Taehyung was nice enough to lend you one of the many jumpers he has stored on his backseat.

You hurry down the long entrance hall and up the stairs to the second flight before rushing down to where the greenroom is located. According to Taehyung, Yoongi will be performing in less than ten minutes, so the two of you have to be quick in order to get to him.

You crash through the door, stopping the instant everyone looks at you with surprise written on their features. Dozens of unknown faces stare at you, eyeing you with a mixture of curiosity and annoyance. Dozens of unknown faces pay you attention. But the one face, the one pair of eyes you would love to have on you, doesn’t pay you any mind.

Yoongi is walking back and forth right next to the stage entrance, clutching his sheet music whilst biting on his nails. He is far too lost in his own racing thoughts to pay any mind to the environment around him.

You swallow, looking up at Taehyung.

“Go to him. Tell him he looks handsome in that suit and then kiss him, maybe even make-out if that helps”, he encourages you, nudging you to where Yoongi is fidgeting around nervously.

“Taehyung stop. I won’t-“, you shake him off, “-make-out with him where everyone can see, are you crazy?”

Taehyung chuckles, shrugging his shoulders.

“Then at least give his cheek a little kiss or nibble on his jawline he loves that”, he teases as he continues pushing you through the room.

“No! Stop, you are embarrassing me”, you complain loudly enough to catch Yoongi’s attention.

He is staring at you now, completely still and with his eyes widened comically big. He mouths your name, tilting his head to the side.

“My cue to go”, Taehyung whispers, nodding his head at Yoongi in greeting. “I expect you guys shoving tongues down each other’s throat by the end of the night”, he says, making not only you but also Yoongi blush in embarrassment. He pushes you one last time before his hands are gone from your shoulders. “Good luck.”

You watch him leave, silently cursing him for abandoning you only to be interrupted by Yoongi breaking the distance between the two of you.

“You came?” he asks, gnawing on his lower lip in nervousness.

“At first I didn’t want to, but then a certain someone changed my mind.”

“Yeah”, he clears his throat awkwardly, “sorry for what he said earlier, a-about tongues and, and throats. T-that was weird”, he scratches the back of his neck in embarrassment.

You dismiss him with a shake of your head.

“No it’s okay, he just wanted to help.”

“Yeah, I guess”, he licks over his lips, now looking into your eyes.

They race between yours and despite your racing heart and your body wanting to turn away in giddiness, you can’t seem to look away. You both don’t dare to move as the rest of the world around you becomes unimportant. The voices of the other people drown out, all you can hear is your own heartbeat. The bright red curtain behind Yoongi becomes nothing more than a blurred picture of colour, the faces of the other contestants seem to disappear. All you can see is him and all he can see is you.

“I’m sorry for, for what I-I said”, Yoongi finally speaks with regret in his voice.

“No it’s okay, I know you didn’t mean it”, you reassure him, making him nod in agreement.

“I’m sorry too for running out on you”, you tell him, holding onto the sleeve of Taehyung’s jumper.

“It’s okay, I would have done the same”, he reassures you with a smile.

You take one step closer to him. His eyes follow you, now sparkling in excitement.

“I didn’t get a chance to tell you this morning in the bakery, but I think you look really handsome in that suit”, you tell him, reaching out to fix his askew bowtie.

You brush your fingers over his chest when retreating your hand, burning the feeling of into your memories. Yoongi smiles, lowering his head in bashfulness.

“You d-do?”

You hum, nodding your head yes.

“It’s a little tight around the, the arms. S-see?” he says, waving his arms around dramatically to demonstrate the tense fabric around his shoulders.

You chuckle fondly at his clumsy movements, nodding your head.

“I do. It won’t hinder you whilst playing, right?”

Yoongi shrugs his shoulders, tilting his head to the side like a confused puppy.

“I hope not. T-that would b-be bad”, he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck.

“It really would be, yeah”, you agree, fixing the buttons on his jacket.

They were perfectly fine, you just wanted to have an excuse to feel him under your fingertips again. Yoongi doesn’t seem to mind either, watching your fingers fondle with the silver buttons with a shy smile on his lips.

“So I reckon you being here means that Taehyung helped you overcome your stage fright?” you ask, feeling a bang of guilt run through your chest at having abandoned him at practice last week.

Yoongi, who had noticed the shame flash up in your eyes, brushes his fingers over the back of your hand gently, reassuring you that everything was okay.

“He d-did. His methods were a, a little more aggressive t-than yours”, he chuckles at the memory of Taehyung’s shock therapy, “but they helped m-me.”

“I’m glad they did. Now nothing can hurt you anymore. Not the judges, not the audience, not even your parents watching”, you flash him a proud smile.

But Yoongi’s face is frozen in sudden panic, his normally fair skin as pale as snow and his eyes clouded over with fear.

“I, I n-nearly. I nearly forgot, forgot about m-my p-parents”, he swallows hard, starting to fidget again. “T-this is bad, I should have n-never invited them. I’m going t-to, to mess up and embarrass them”, he stutters, starting to walk back and forth again whilst biting on his nails.

“Hey Yoongi, I’m sure they are so proud of you, even if you mess up. I mean, you are finally playing on a real stage after all those years, they must be so proud of you. Don’t worry”, you try to calm him down, but he is too lost in his panic-ridden-state to hear you.

“My n-nerves are killing me, I’m going to, to mess up. Fuck I can’t do this”, he mumbles under his breath, messing up his hair by aggressively combing his fingers through them.

“Of course you can, you practiced so hard”, you assure him, patting his arm.

The feeling of your touch makes him look at you. He shakes his head, his hands are starting to shake.

“No, I c-can’t. I can’t”, he takes a quick look outside, “m-my parents are, are out t-there s-somewhere. I can’t.”

“Yoongi, hey it’s okay. They can’t hurt you, you can do this.”

“No”, his breathing becomes irregular, his eyes zone out. He is getting anxious. “N-no I, no, I can’t, no, I”, he shakes his head so violently you are scared he might pull a muscle.

He walks closer to the stage entrance, taking a quick glance outside. He turns to you again, staring at you with panicky eyes.

“Why am I s-so nervous again?” he asks in hopes that you have the answers for him.

You can’t keep looking at him without doing something. It’s too painful to watch.

In one big step you are by his side again, forcing him to look at you by cupping both of his cheeks. Yoongi gasps, staring at you with big eyes.

“Everything is going to be okay, I promise. I will be right here next to the entrance, cheering for you with all of my heart.”

He blinks, swallowing. You brush your fingers through his ruffled hair, making it look pretty again. He shivers visibly, leaning into your touch just the slightest bit.

“Just close your eyes up there if it gets too much. Don’t think about being on stage or your parents watching, just imagine the place that makes you feel the safest”, you tell him, cupping his cheeks once more, now that his hair looks perfect again.

Yoongi wraps his fingers around your wrists, drawing figures on your skin with his thumbs.

“T-the place which makes me feel the safest?”

His fingers tighten, his cheeks heats up underneath your fingertips.

“Yes. Imagine you are there, playing the piano. Just you and your music at the safest place on earth.”

Yoongi’s eyes flutter shut, his lips part. You should probably pull back and give him space to breathe, but your heart can’t find the strength to do it. Holding him, feeling his soft skin on your fingertips, sensing every squeeze of his fingers, every caress of his thumbs, it’s like home. Warm and secure.

Yoongi lets out a tiny sigh, his lips part even more.

“The place I feel the safest”, he whispers, his voice deep.

He opens his eyes, sending you the fondest smile you have ever seen on him. His eyes sparkle, his pink gums are showing, so do his cute teeth. He guides your hands away from his face, holding them tightly instead. You are sure he can hear your racing heart at this point.

“I will think of it”, his smile grows wider, “Thank you ___.”

“I-“, you swallow, “I’m glad I could help.”

The contestant before Yoongi finishes his piece, applause follows. Panic flickers in Yoongi’s eyes for a moment.

“My turn”, he eyes the now empty piano, still holding your hands.

“I’ll cheer for you”, you encourage him, giving his hands a gentle squeeze.

Yoongi nods, smiling gratefully. He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes again before his hands slip away from yours.

“Contestant 309, Min Yoongi from Mukunghwa Private School of Music and Arts”, the speaker announces.

“I can do this”, Yoongi murmurs, turning to the stage.

“You can do this.”

He takes one last look at you. His eyes race over your features, almost like he wants to memorize every part of your face. And then he finally goes on stage with his fists clenched by his sides and his face already blushing.

You are so proud of him right now that you can’t stop smiling as you watch him sit down on the chair and adjust it to his height.

Yoongi takes a look around. The concert hall is big, so big in fact that he can’t even see the faces of the people in the last rows. So many people, it almost feels like they came just to listen to him. A silly thought, Yoongi thinks, but he still can’t stop imagining it. Then he looks at the piano in front of him, how the white keys almost seem yellow in the bright stage lights. Will he slip and mess up? Can people see his red cheeks? Where are his parents sitting? Does he look stupid in that too-tight suit? Why didn’t he just kiss you back then when he held your hands? All these thoughts race through his mind making him all the more nervous.

“Contestant 309 please proceed”, one of the judges warns him.

You see Yoongi flinch and tense up afterwards.

“Come on Yoongi. You got this”, you whisper.

One last glance at the sea of people and then his eyes flutter closed. The first note rings loudly through the quiet hall. People don’t seem to be much interested in listening to the 309th rendition of Beethoven's Piano Sonata No.14. A rather boring thing to do, most of these people would agree and as the first few notes dance through the air, they had all already started to zone out. That is until Yoongi plays one note just slightly differently. Not wrong or out of tune, of course not, but this note, this one single note in an ocean of notes changed something in the people’s hearts. They could feel it, you could feel it and Yoongi could feel it. Yoongi wasn’t on the stage anymore, he wasn’t playing like the score told him to. No. Yoongi was in the comfort of his safe place, pouring out his heart and soul and putting everything he has got to offer into this one piece. Like a captain steering a ship through a storm, Yoongi guides the people through the music. Making them hold their breaths when a wave of emotion as high as the ceiling came crashing down on them and making them sigh in relief when he grants them a moment of catching their breaths when quiet notes dance through the air. It is magical, like time seemed to have stopped in this concert hall. Like the worries and pains of the outside world ceased to exist in the presence of his music. Everyone felt light in their chests, comforted and understood in their struggles.

You feel like crying. In relief, in sadness or happiness you don’t even know for sure. All you feel is the overwhelming urge to free your heart of all its burdens by letting the tears run free. And by the time Yoongi’s fingers have stopped on the keys and the last notes died out, you aren’t the only person crying in this big hall.

Yoongi pants, his eyes are still closed, his fingers feel like cramping. He can hear nothing more than his racing heart and ragged breathing. And then, like a wave crashing the shore, applause roars through the hall, mixed with loud screaming and cheers.

Yoongi peels his eyes open, staring directly into the crowd. All he can see are smiling faces cheering for him. One by one the people stand up, some of them wiping tears from their cheeks. They are cheering for him, his play, his music. They liked it! His own cheeks feel wet, like he had been crying. He touches them. He is crying. He is so happy right now.

“Thank you contestant 309 for your great performance”, one of the judges says.

Yoongi bows, hiding his trembling lips behind his hands. The people are still cheering. Even as he leaves the stage the applause doesn’t die down. The people’s hearts are forever changed.

He is just steps away from you when your eyes lock. You are both crying, smiling at each other like two love drunk idiots. Yoongi quickens his steps, you hold your breath.

You hear the faint call of your name by his sweet voice.

He stretches his arms out ready to hug you, he looks so mesmerized by you it makes new tears spill out of you.

“Yoongi!” a deep voice calls out.

A shoulder bumps into yours as a dark shadow brushes past you. In a mere second Yoongi has disappeared behind the tall frame of Taehyung hugging him tightly. You can’t ignore the initial sting in your chest when realizing the loss of opportunity. But life doesn’t give you much time to pout as someone grabs your hand and pulls you away from Yoongi and Taehyung.

You look at your attacker, meeting Jungkook’s eyes.

“What are you doing here? Let go of me”, you squeal, wiggling your hand in his grasp.

He pulls you out the greenroom room and down the hallways. How on earth is he that fast?

“I need to talk to you”, he finally stops.

Hidden behind a vending machine and next to the men’s bathroom door, you are staring at each other. Your jaw is tensed, your eyes cold.

Jungkook looks scared.

“You know that you practically ruined a very emotional moment right now?” you growl.

“I know, sorry”, he cringes, “but please hear me out.”

“Why? So you can lie to me again?” you spit.

“No, of course not. I just want to apologize”, he murmurs.

“Nice try”, you scoff.

“I’m serious”, he furrows his brows, “I’m so sad without you ___.”

“Oh, boohoo, a bully is sad. I’m crying”, you spit rolling your eyes.

“I’m not-“, he sighs in frustration, combing his fingers through his ruffled hair, “-a bully. Please hear me out.”

His voice sounds so desperate, his eyes look so sad. In your kind-hearted nature you can’t bring yourself to deny him his wish.

“Fine, but keep it short. I have someone very special to congratulate.”

“I saw. Yoongi is awesome, I even cried a little”, he confesses almost shyly.

“I know he is”, you retort confidently.

Jungkook studies your face for a moment.

“I have known Jimin since kindergarten.”

“Okay?” you don’t know how this is going to help Jungkook in gaining your forgiveness.

“No hear me out, this is important please”, he begs with folded hands.

You eye him for a moment, contemplating if turning around and just walking away would be the right thing to do here only to decide against it in the end.

“Fine.”

Jungkook smiles for a moment, clearly happy about his small victory, before his face becomes serious again.

“He has been my first real friend and he was always so nice and caring to me. Actually he was nice and caring to everyone. He never wanted people to be sad or hurt because of him, so he always went out of his way to help everyone as best as possible”, he smiles sadly at the memory.

“But then he developed feelings for Jieun”, he continues, “she was Yoongi’s girlfriend at that time and literally the entire school either wanted to be him or her. That’s how hot they were together.”

A bang of jealousy courses through you. You scoff, rolling your eyes.

“And Jimin, he was furious. He wanted her so badly, he started talking only about her twenty four seven. It got so annoying. And at first I thought he would get over it, that it was nothing more but a mere crush. Jimin always knew how to behave around taken women, this time wouldn’t be any different”, he pauses for a second, “I was so wrong.”

He stops a moment to catch his breath.

“I should have stopped it”, he murmurs.

“Should have stopped what?”

“Jimin, his sick crush and what he did next.”

“What did he do next?”

“Pursue Jieun of course. He knew how often she was alone in the breaks or after school. Yoongi was so obsessed with practicing back then, even more than he is these days. And Jimin seized every opportunity to hang out with Jieun. He made her laugh, was extremely sweet to her and gave her all of his time when she asked him to”, he brushes his fingers through his hair, inhaling shakily, “I feel so awful because I didn’t stop him back then. I could have prevented all of this from happening.”

“You couldn’t have known it would escalate that much.”

“I kind of did. Soon I was allowed to join their not-so-secret ‘study hangouts’. Basically it was them trash talking Yoongi. How bad of a boyfriend he is, how untalented he is, how he doesn’t buy Jieun anything expensive despite his parents being rich. It was awful to listen to, especially because she was still dating Yoongi at that time, all whilst holding Jimin’s hand.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I did. Well, I tried. But Jimin just told me to mind my own business, that I didn’t know what love is because I’m still a virgin and other really mean stuff”, he pouts, his eyes glistening sadly, “and Jieun threatened to make everyone believe that I raped her. Jimin didn’t know about that of course, she always acted super friendly towards me when Jimin was with us.”

“And Jimin didn’t believe you when you told him?”

He shakes his head.

“He didn’t, he just called me a jealous, little baby. He was an idiot in love, this witch had total control over him. So I just stayed quiet and didn’t do anything.”

He sighs.

“I regret this so much. As well as ever staying friends with them”, he blinks tears away, “I just didn’t want to be alone”, he whispers sadly.

“No one does.”

He looks at you, smiling faintly like your words had comforted him greatly.

“What happened next?” you ask.

“Oh, yeah right”, he clears his throat awkwardly.

“Soon they started to hang out more frequently and Jieun developed obvious feelings for Jimin, or perhaps it was the control she had over him she loved, who knows”, he shrugs his shoulders, “anyways. Soon Yoongi found out about it and he was mad, understandably. So he confronted Jieun and Jimin at one of their ‘cafeteria study hangouts’. He kept going on about how Jimin should have respect for other people and that he should stay away from Jieun and just how hurt he was by Jieun. I was sitting at the neighboring table at that time to study for my vocal exam, but Yoongi was talking loudly enough that everyone could hear every single word.”

“Poor Yoongi, I feel so bad for him.”

“Yeah me too. Especially because Jieun suddenly started crying and yelling hysterically that all she wanted to have was someone normal, that she couldn’t stand the constant abuse and cheating anymore.”

“Excuse me. What?”

“That was exactly Yoongi’s answer. He was so shocked, so was everyone else. And then she started screaming about how Yoongi is a creep, how he takes inappropriate pictures of her against her consent and how she had found him jerking off to illegally taken nude pictures of her classmates more than once.”

“What the hell?”

Jungkook nods.

“I knew she was lying, given how she threatened to expose me as a rapist before, but before I could speak up Jimin did. But not to call out her lies, he supported them. He yelled about how he had seen the pictures she had managed to steal from Yoongi, that he was disgusted and that Yoongi should be in prison for what he had done. And Yoongi, he was so shocked that he was unable to speak and defend himself. It was like he was frozen on the spot.”

“Yoongi, oh god”, you murmur.

“And of course people took it as him being caught red handed and it surely didn’t help that he stormed out of the cafeteria next. He just wanted to be alone, I could understand him. He had gotten his heart broken, trust destroyed and innocence ripped apart in mere seconds. Every sane person would have fled in this situation.”

He breathes in, thinking for a moment. His eyes stare at the wall opposite of you, racing. Suddenly he speaks again.

“I wanted to run after him and comfort him but Jieun asked me for everyone to hear if I was really going to help a pervert.”

Jungkook stops for a moment. He looks past you, almost zoning out. The memory must be painful for him.

“I looked at her, then at Jimin. Clearly my best friend would defend me.”

His jaw clenches.

“He didn’t. He stayed silent as he wrapped an arm around Jieun and kissed her cheek. He kissed her after destroying a man’s life and manipulating another into submission. What happened to my caring best friend?”

Jungkook is shaking, clearly upset. He is sniffling, wanting nothing more than to cry.

“Jungkook, I’m sorry”, you take one of his hands, squeezing it gently.

“Don’t be, it’s my own fault for being such a coward back then and not wanting to be hated by everyone. I’m still a coward. I should have told you the truth. I should have warned you about how manipulative Jimin became because of that witch. And again I didn’t, I stayed quiet and watched him try to manipulate you.”

He whimpers.

“I even helped him”, he chokes out with so much guilt in his voice it makes you feel sick to the stomach. It seems so honest, so raw that all you can do is believe how much he means his regret right now.

He suddenly squeezes your hands, sending you a fond smile.

“I felt so happy when you told us that you don’t believe in rumors that easily”, his smile drops, “but I was also scared that everything would repeat itself again just like last year, that’s why I acted like such a douche all the time. I just wanted to protect you and Yoongi.”

“It didn’t repeat itself however, thankfully.”

Jungkook smiles again.

“Yeah thankfully”, he chuckles sadly, “I’m such a coward.”

“You’re not. It takes a lot of courage to admit your own failures and wrong doings. You aren’t a coward Jungkook.”

“But I am. For staying friends with Jieun and, and,”, he swallows, hesitating for a moment, “and Jimin for so long. Just because I didn’t want to be alone.”

“Jungkook, you aren’t alone. You never will be. Sometimes letting go takes greater strength than holding on. You are strong Jungkook, for realizing you need to let go and for accepting that sometimes being alone is better than holding onto a person, who isn’t good for you.”

He looks at the ground, smiling bashfully. He laces his fingers with yours.

“Thank you”, he looks at you, his big eyes sparkling like two little galaxies.

“It’s okay.”

He takes a deep inhale. He exhales. He smiles.

“Do you know that I think that I’m in love with you?” he confesses.

Your eyes grow big.

“Jungkook”, you breathe.

“No don’t say anything. I get it, it’s okay. I just wanted to tell you how much I appreciate you and that your kind gestures make me really happy and that I want nothing more for you than to find happiness with Yoongi.”

You need to blink, suddenly wanting to cry. Jungkook reaches out, drying that one tear running down your cheek with his thumb.

“We can still be friends, right?” he asks, still smiling fondly.

You simply nod.

“If you feel like you are comfortable enough”, you sniffle.

Jungkook nods.

“I am. I just want to see you happy.”

“I want to see you happy too Kookie.”

He smiles, so do you.

“Thank you. I’m working on that, with the help of professionals.”

“I’m proud of you Kookie. This is really brave of you.”

“Thank you”, he lets go of your cheeks, hiding his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

“You can go now if you want. Yoongi is probably waiting.”

Sudden realization about where you are washes over you. You gasp.

“Oh god, I totally forgot the time.”

Jungkook chuckles at your shocked face.

“Don’t laugh, it’s your fault for keeping me away for so long.”

“I’m not denying it”, Jungkook shrugs his shoulders, still chuckling.

You scoff, hitting his chest softly.

“Just go before he leaves”, he tells you, pushing you into the direction of the greenroom gently.

“Alright, alright. I’m already leaving”, you laugh, turning on your heels.

You are only a few steps away from Jungkook when you stop again, turning around to look at him.

“Will you really be alright?”

“I will. I promise”, he assures you with an honest smile.

You look at him a moment longer. This feels weirdly like a goodbye, although you know it isn’t one, just the beginning of something even more beautiful.

“Go ___”, Jungkook chuckles.

“Right”, you laugh, snapping out of your trance.

And with that you rush down the corridors back to the greenroom.

You push the door open, expecting to see a confused looking Yoongi and Taehyung. But you don’t, as a matter of fact you are the only person still in this waiting room. The stage outside is dark, the seats are all empty. Quiet, everything is quiet. You are the only person left.

Panic. Where is Yoongi? Hopefully he didn’t think you left him and is now sad because of you.

You storm out of the room and down the hallways in search of anyone. Just anyone please. Even Jungkook is gone already when you pass the vending machines.

You are truly alone in this building. Yoongi, you need to find him.

You finally find him far away from the concert hall on the wooden bridge underneath the orange street lamp. It had started to snow as you were running through the city in search of him. The streets already wear a faint white dress, making your boots crunch with every step you take.

Warmth floods your chest when you spot him. Snowflakes had fallen on his black hair, sparkling in the light.

“Yoongi!” you call from far away.

He turns his head, locking eyes with you in an instance. His skin glows rosy from the cold air, the tip of his nose carries a deep red. He smiles when he sees it is you running up to him.

“Yoongi. You were so amazing. I’m so proud of you!” you yell.

Yoongi’s smile grows.

“Where were you? I thought you left me”, he calls out.

You stop right in front of him, so close you feel his hot breath fan over your frozen skin.

“I had to clear a few things up with Jungkook. I’m sorry I forgot the time.”

Yoongi dismisses you with a wave of his hand. He doesn’t wear gloves, his skin is already bright red from the cold. You reach out and hide both of his frozen hands in the pockets of your coat, holding onto them tightly. Yoongi’s whole face lights up at your gesture, his fingers intertwine with yours, squeezing your hands gently.

“I missed you so much”, he confesses.

“I missed you too.”

He gives your hands a gentle squeeze. He takes a step closer to you. A single snowflake rests beautifully on his lashes. He looks so perfect right now.

“I placed first”, he confesses, smiling so brightly his eyes turn into little crescent moons.

Your mouth falls open, your eyes grow big.

“No way”, you squeal.

“I did”, he mumbles almost shyly.

“Yoongi, oh my god”, you throw your arms around his neck, pulling him close.

He stands still for a moment, not moving an inch whilst staring over your shoulder with big eyes. You can feel his heart race in his chest, his breathing is fast.

And then. You finally feel it. He hugs you back. His arms snake around your body and his cheek rests itself on your shoulder. He gives your body the gentlest of squeezes as he sighs softly.

“This is all because of you. You made all of this possible”, he whispers as his fingers draw circles on your lower back.

His eyes are closed, so are yours.

“No, it’s because you are talented Yoongi. You deserve this so much.”

You comb your fingers through his soft hair, making him sigh again.

“I never would have been brave enough to show my talent without you. You gave me so much strength and courage when I already wanted to give up everything”, he tightens the hug.

You feel so warm, the cold winter’s air can’t hurt you anymore now that you are safe in Yoongi’s embrace. The loneliness of the big city is gone as you hold each other close.

“You became my safe place ___”, he confesses, raising his head to look at you.

His eyes are filled to the brim with love. Like two little galaxies they sparkle only for you underneath that orange street light on this cold winter's night.

You cup his cheek, he leans into your touch, closing his eyes for the briefest of moments.

“I’m so in love with you”, you confess, caressing his soft features.

He smiles, cupping your cheeks whilst holding you close with his other hand.

“I’m so in love with you too”, he breathes as his thumb brushes over your lips.

“I really want to kiss you now”, he confesses, as his eyes gaze at your lips longingly.

“And I really want you to kiss me now”, you whisper, resting your fingers on the back of his neck.

“I will”, he murmurs as his eyes flutter closed and he lets you guide him to your lips.

You kiss him right there underneath the orange street lamp on the small wooden bridge with snow falling down on you and the winter’s cold caressing your skin. Right here and there you have found each other, two lost souls connected in this wide universe, now dancing to life’s melodies together.

#yoongi romance #yoongi fluff #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #bts romance #bts fluff #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts x you #bangtan romance #bangtan fluff #bangtan fanfic #bangtan fanfiction #bangtan x reader #bangtan x you #fanfic: sc

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fic-for-fic-sake · 5 years ago

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Project Infinity

Pairing: Eventual Steve x reader

Description: Reader is an enhanced individual whose power comes from the power stone. How will her life change when she crosses paths with Steve Rogers?

A/N: This indicates Polish

Prologue can be found here.

Chapter 1:

Present Day (2017)

Warsaw, Poland.

You sighed as you turned your key and opened the door to the little coffee shop. The solitary bell rang out as you brushed light flurries of snow off of your hair and jacket. Going behind the counter you turned on the machines and went in the back to get the pastries you had started to make last night. Now they only needed to be put in the oven for a half hour and they would be nice and warm when customers started rolling in.

Coming back into the main area, you started your own cup of coffee before cleaning the general seating area. It wasn’t much but it was yours, at least for the time being. You had been playing house here in Poland for six months and still nothing. HYDRA was being suspiciously quiet and it was beginning to make you uneasy. Hearing the espresso machine come to life and pour out your coffee was the only saving grace of the day so far. You was waiting to hear word about if you should stay on in assignment here or finally call it quits and look elsewhere.

Moving behind the counter you pulled the milk out of the refrigerator and steamed it to your liking, before adding it to the espresso cup. You grabbed your apron and tied it around your waist, watching the clock. Customers should be arriving soon. You took a deep swig of coffee, not bothered by the scorch it left in your mouth. You didn’t feel pain anymore, not since you was cursed. Wiping the glass counter top, you looked as violet eyes stared back at you. Sometimes still forgetting that they were your own.

The bell chimed, breaking you out of your reverie. You smiled as your regulars poured into the shop. They chatted among themselves as you made them coffee and passed out the fresh batch of bread. The warmth was appreciated during the unforgiving morning temperatures of the north.

Your Polish was good, enough to get by and make polite conversation. Most people thought you just stuck to yourself, a loner. They weren’t wrong. Being undercover was challenging and it made it difficult to let people in. You had a hard enough time with that in general, add being a secret agent hunting terrorists and a social life was damn near impossible.

The coffee shop helped. Your superiors said you needed to be more social, that you couldn’t spend the entire assignment in stakeouts with spy equipment. That this was the real way they would catch HYDRA. You knew they were right, but it didn’t make it any less annoying. But now, you didn’t mind the coffee shop. It gave you another reason to get out of bed in the morning.

Looking up at the clock you couldn’t believe where the time had gone. It was a quarter past eleven and you needed to prepare for lunch. You were about to go into the back room to grab the pre-made sandwiches when you heard a chime at the front door. You turned to see two men in black walk into the shop. They gave you a polite nod before sitting at a table in the corner.

You walked in their direction, notepad ready to take their orders. When you got to the table you noticed something was off. Both men had a subtle hint of gasoline on them, not enough to raise alarms for the masses, but you knew better. You smiled as you asked if they wanted anything, they said they needed another moment to decide and waved you away.

Going into the back room you grabbed your glock and carefully placed it in a holster around your waist and under your shirt. You took two deep breaths before you went back into the main area. Lucky for you, the rest of the shop had cleared out. You continued to wait on the two men as if nothing happened, while you subtly locked the front door.

The two men left money on the table and got up to leave, having finished their drinks. They went to pull on the door handle only to realize it was locked.

“Miss, I think there’s something wrong with the door, it won’t open.” The taller man said. He had a small white scar that ran the length of his eye, and you found yourself wondering what happened to him.

“There’s nothing wrong with it.” You replied carefully, stepping out from behind the counter and pointing the gun at him. “Now, I need to know, who is your supplier?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, you’ve got the wrong guys.” The second, stockier man said.

“Save it, I know you two are working with HYDRA, I know you had close ties with Rumlow and Stryker. So, I’ll ask again, who is your supplier?” You questioned as you stalked towards them, never lowering your gun.

Their eyes drifted somewhere behind you as you felt a gun press against your head.

“Put the gun down sweetheart, we don’t wanna have to hurt you.” The man behind you said in perfect English.

“That makes one of us.” You quipped as your eyes flashed a brilliant purple. In an instant the man holding the gun to your head was on the floor thrashing in pain. You calmly removed the gun from his hand before turning your attention back to the other two by the door. They soon drew their own pistols and began firing several rounds at you. You easily dodged them as you made contact with the stockier HYDRA agent. Without breaking a sweat you bent the man's arm backwards as a harsh crack erupted from him, signaling the breaking of bone. You kneed him in the chest and sent him spiraling towards the rack of pastries on the counter. The agent behind you wrapped his arms around your neck in a vice like grip but you just laughed before flipping him over you like he weighed no more than a sack of flour.

You stalked towards the one with the broken arm, hoisting him up with a strong grip around his throat, not enough to kill him but enough for him to know that you could, and more importantly, that you wanted to.

“Who is your supplier.” You growled through gritted teeth, lifting the man higher still. Until his feet were thrashing and his hands clawed at the ones wrapped around his throat.

“I will never tell you, you devil. Rot in hell, Hail HYDRA.” He choked out before he bit down on the cyanide capsule in his mouth.

With a frustrated groan you tossed his body back on the ground before moving on to the one with the scar. His eyes widened in terror as he scrambled backwards to get away from you.

“What are you?” He asked, voice trembling.

“Your worst nightmare.” You remarked, smiling darkly as you stalked towards him, your eyes glowing purple once more. Before you could deal with him though, you found herself being tackled to the floor by something, or rather someone.

Through the gap between the persons arm and the floor you could see someone else tackle the man who had held the gun to your head. You thought you knew the person, the way she moved and fought. Swift and officiant, how she had been trained, but it couldn’t be. She was supposed to be in jail.

In your bewilderment, you looked above you to the stranger who had tackled you. But he wasn’t exactly a stranger, not really. It was none other than Captain Fucking America. He got off of you and extended a hand but you scoffed.

“I didn’t need your help, I was handling it.” You chortled as you stood up on your own.

“Having someone die on your watch, almost killing another, and having the third almost shoot you dead was handling it?” The Captain shot back. “Sam get in here and get these two prisoners into the quinjet, get ready for take off in 5.” He ordered into his comm.

“You have your way of dealing with things and I have mine.” You said, raising your voice.

“Who are you anyway, what business do you have with HYDRA?” He questioned, moving closer to you as he did so. A hint of suspicion written on his face.

“That’s Y/N.” Natasha interjected from her spot in the room, where she was strapping a pair of handcuffs onto one of the HYDRA agents. “She’s a former SHIELD agent, used to work with Fury on a secret project.”

“What happened to being in prison?” you quirked an eyebrow as you teased Nat.

“I got bored.” The now blonde assassin bantered back with a wink.

“Why am I not surprised?” you chuckled as you shook your head.

“I’m sorry, you two know each other?” Steve interjected, breaking up the reunion between the two women.

“Yeah, we used to work together. One of the best partners I’ve ever had.” Nat stated matter of factly.

“How am I just now hearing about this?” Steve questioned, looking between the two of them in shock.

“We worked on top secret projects for Fury, it was on a strictly need to know basis. Looks like your name never made the cut.” You quipped as you crossed your arms over your chest.

Just then, another man, who you assumed to be Sam, came into the shop.

“Okay, I’m ready to load the cargo. Wheels up in 3.” He announced as he was about to grab the first agent.

“Not so fast,” you stated as you grabbed Sam’s arm, “These men are in my custody, I still need to question them.”

“What a coincidence.” Steve responded, “So do we. Load ‘em up Sam.”

“If you want to question them, you’ll just have to come with us. Besides, I have some questions of my own for you.” Steve stated before heading out of the coffee shop to where the jet was waiting.

Natasha gave you an apologetic shrug as she forced the other prisoner to start walking. With a dejected look at the destroyed coffee shop you made your way outside as well, taking one last glance at your old life.

Taglist: @fairchild21, @moli1497

#steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfic #mcu fanfic #project infinity

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pollylynn · 5 years ago

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Title: Omega WC: 1100

He goes back to the beginning for her coffee, back to the truck where he overheard her order for the first time. Overheard. He hears her voice in his head—a laugh and audible sarcastic quote marks around the word. He hears their future, the two of them trading parts of their story back and forth. He feels her shoulders beneath his arm, and let’s face it, at least a couple of elbow shots to his ribs, but he pictures the scene, clear as day.

This is the right place. She likes the vanilla from another place better, and he thought about that. And then there’s the place that’s a little farther away, but they’ll do a little pair of handcuffs in the foam if it’s not too busy and he begs. He thought about that, too. There are places where she swears the espresso has a little more get up and go, and others where she likes the mellow-ness of the beans they roast in house. He thought about all of them while he was working his nerve up, but this is the right place to get the most momentous cup of coffee he’s brought her, to date.

“Large cappuccino for my friend the stranger, and a large skinny latte, two pumps sugar-free vanilla.” Marian is pushing one cup toward him across the stainless steel ledge as soon as his turn at the front of the line comes up. The guy still waiting on his order looks incredulous, because he doesn’t understand that waiting is the penalty for being a blowhard who yells into his cell phone, rather than actually being ready with his order. Marian pays him no mind at all. She waits with her grease pencil poised over the second cup. ”For Nikki?”

“For Kate,” he says. His voice breaks a little. He sounds like a boy who just hit puberty hard, which is appropriate, all things considered. “Today’s a Kate day.”

He stuffs an extra-large tip into the jar and brushes by the blowhard, who is still yelling into his phone, but now also throwing his arms up as though the world owes him some explanation beyond the obvious for why he still doesn’t have his coffee.

He double times it to the precinct so the latte will be the perfect temperature when he sets it in front of her. His heart feels like it’s galloping figure-eights in his chest as he rides the elevator up, and he wonders for a sacrilegious instant if he should have gotten a decaf for himself.

He feels light headed for a second when he hands the coffee to her and she smiles. She’ll know after this cup of coffee. She’ll know, and now he has sweaty palms to go with his pubescent voice. He sits, though. He installs himself in his chair, and he’s resolved. He begins. He makes a start, and he sees a stillness settle over her. He has her absolutely undivided attention and he hears their future again.

Right in the middle of the precinct. That’s her, as though she’s scandalized. You have to admit that even the precinct was an upgrade from the first time. That’s him, waggling his eyebrows as though that’s a salacious part, even as he grabs her hand under the table and squeezes, because it’s still terrifying how close they came to never having this life.

In the here and now he hears himself say, And I don’t want that to happen. He sees her breath catch—he sees her lean forward almost imperceptibly—and he knows that she doesn’t want it to happen either. But Ryan—Kevin Impediment Ryan, of the New York City Ryans—feels differently, and he wants to weep for that cup of coffee. She meets his eyes and he’s not sure she isn’t weeping for that coffee, on the inside at least.

But there is the job. There is always the job, and the next cup he brings her will just have to be the most momentous one to date.

The cup she pours herself when she’s in with Haynes intervenes. He’s offended by it. He finds it offensive, because it’s from an hours-old pot, because she has to pour it herself, into a paper cup for God’s sake. Because she’s alone in the room with the man they are all but sure murdered five people, and he is not coping at all well with the fact that he’s not in there with her. He’s not coping at all well with the way Haynes keeps slithering deeper into her personal space and every last iota of that anxiety gets projected on to that damned, offensive cup of coffee.

His courage—his sense of urgency—is renewed by a conversation over emergency cheering-up pancakes. Yesterday’s most-momentous cup of coffee, he tells himself, was just a dry run. Today is the day. He makes his way to Marian again and takes it as a good omen that there’s no blowhard today. He says it’s a Kate day again. He almost confides that he thinks they’ll all be Kate days from here on out, but he can’t hear a future in which Kate does not kill him for telling Marian first.

He hurries toward the precinct. The walk sign blazes the second he hits the intersection. The elevator dings open for him before he even has to do any awkward fumbling of the cups to press the button. He smiles at the good omens, faltering only when he spies her empty desk.

The news from Esposito that they very well might have their man is more or less the only thing in the world that could pry his attention from the need to hand her the real most momentous coffee to date. He watches her in the box. She’s at the top of her game, and it feels right that the moment should come—that their future should start—after this.

It feels right until the world flies apart.

Until that moment, the metaphor of a gut punch has always felt a bit hackneyed to him. But his breath leaves him. His ears ring and he all but doubles over. He races from he observation room. He pounds down the stairs, awash in humiliation, awash in misery.

He’s blocks away before he remembers. He’s an immeasurable distance away, and the future is silent.

But the picture of it fills up his mind’s eye—the white cup with Kate in grease pencil on the side.

The last coffee he will ever bring her.

A/N: Coffee always feels like a cheat. Hmmm.

images via homeofthenutty

#Castle #Caskett #Castle: Season 4 #Castle: 47 Seconds #Kate Beckett #Richard Castle #Kevin Ryan #Javier Esposito #Fic #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Fan Fic #Fan Fiction #Writing #Hmmm

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theskyeandsea · 5 years ago

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Shifty Strangers || Ulfric & Skylar

Tagging: @big-bad-ulf

Location: Coffee Plus

Notes: While fueling up on coffee, Ulfric sniffs out another shifter in White Crest.

Ulfric wasn’t usually the type to frequent coffee shops, but after a long restless night of impromptu guard duty he needed some kind of pick-me-up to get through the day’s appointments at the parlor. It wouldn’t end well if he fell asleep with a needle in his hand. The line that waited for him inside Coffee Plus was both a curse and blessing. The former because the longer he had to wait the higher his chances of dozing off on the spot, the latter because it meant a higher chance of avoiding Celeste until she left for work. Though even if she did chances were her scent would still be waiting for him. After just one night, and even with his senses dulled so close to the new moon, it seemed everything in his trailer was contaminated with hunter stench. Hints of it even clung to him somehow, despite the copious amounts febreze he’d sprayed all over himself as soon as he left.

Taking a spot at the end of the line, Ulfric caught wind of another scent that pulled him out of his funk about his own acquired funk. It radiated from the young woman in front of him, reminding him of the ocean and… blue gatorade? But there was a familiar animalistic undercurrent that provided an instant jolt to his awareness that no coffee could hope to achieve. Not a wolf, but close enough to be comforting after the strange series of events he’d just been through. “Hey,” He tapped her lightly on the shoulder, using the beat before she turned around to face him to scramble together an excuse to talk to her. “Uh... would you recommend anything off the menu here? I’d usually only just go for a black coffee. I’m a creature of habit, you know how it is. But sometimes a change can be nice, right? I feel like trying something different before my shift.” It wasn’t the best or most subtle icebreaker, but hey, he was tired, and if she caught on maybe he could warn her about the beast hunters that were circling over White Crest like vultures. Or at least, he could put off having to face the hunter in his own home for a while longer.

Coffee Plus was more crowded than usual, which was honestly really good to see. It was cool that so many people in town liked to support their local businesses. And, even though she had her thermos and coffee machine, Skylar had decided to treat herself to a nice Americano from the shop. Waiting in line, she scrolled through her phone, a small frown crossing her face as she realized that Remmy and Morgan hadn’t responded to her. Had something happened? Mmmmm, no, they were probably fine. Maybe they were busy. Maybe the two of them decided to go and enjoy the sunshine, somewhere safely away from the ghost that was threatening Morgan. They were fine. She slid her phone back into her pocket and continued to wait in line patiently. As she waited, Skylar started slightly when someone gently tapped her shoulder. A tall bearded man with tattoos-- had she done something wrong? She didn’t think she cut in front of him. “Hm? Oh, sorry, I really only get espresso here, so it’s really not that different from a drip coffee.” She said, his deliberate intonation going over her head. “But, they use really high quality roasts here, so it should be good no matter what you choose.”

“Espresso’s not a bad idea. If a shot of caffeine’s what you’re after why complicate that?” Ulfric shrugged, doing his best to hide his disappointment at what seemed to be a rebuff of their shared status. Did she not know what she was? It seemed unlikely, the recently transformed usually carried a much stronger aura of panic around them. If this young woman had recently undergone an unexpected evolutionary upgrade she was handling it remarkably well. Then again her response didn’t seem terse enough for her to be one of those in the self-loathing, deep-in-denial, human-passing crowd. “Crazy times we’ve been having, huh? With the fish rain and the squid thing,” He decided to try again, after a moment to scratch his beard in contemplation. He had time to kill, and if he ended up making a fool of himself he could always blame the early hour. “You strike me as someone who likes to get out on the water. You know, got a real affinity for the sea? I’m more of a terrestrial animal myself. It’d be good to hear a more informed take on it.”

“Mhm. And this place does a really nice Americano. I usually make my own coffee and take it into work, but I figured I could treat myself today.” Skylar said with a polite smile, gesturing to the thermos that was tucked into the water bottle pouch of her work bag. Given the amount of caffeine it took to make her feel anything, her coffee habit had really added up over the years. Alain had been right-- the machine and thermos had been a good investment. As the man continued to speak to her, she blinked a little. Why was he talking to her? Not that she minded conversation, or that it was harming anything. She’d woken up early to ensure she had extra time to get from the coffee shop to work with ample time to spare. But… she hadn’t really anticipated having a chat with someone. “Mhm, pretty weird stuff. Between that and the blood puddles and the darkness… White Crest is anything but boring.” She laughed. When his words turned to talk of the ocean, of water, Skylar’s blood froze. “Huh? No, not really. I don’t even know how to swim very well.” She said, confusion bringing out an ounce of truth.

“Huh. My mistake, I guess,” Ulfric sighed, still not entirely convinced that he was wrong. He’d grown very confident in his shifter radar but maybe the lingering eau de hunter was throwing it off? “You smell like someone that would be more at home on the ocean. Not that you smell bad or anything, or that I go around sniffing strangers that often,” He inarticulately apologised, noticing her growing tension every time mentioned the sea. Still, one last shot, then there would be so little time left before Ink Inc. opened that he could justify going straight there and ideally he might even be able to warn her about the escalating hunter threat before she had firmly decided never to talk to him again. “Like I said, I’m more suited to land so I do most of my hunting there but do I like to fish on occasion--” If you could call catching salmon in your maw straight out stream fishing. “And your sc-- something about you seemed familiar, like maybe we had something in common. But if you don’t feel the same I’ll just leave you to go about your business.” The wolf backed off a bit stepping to the side of the line, before rummaging in his pockets for change. “Let me buy you that Americano at least though, for your troubles. ”

Smell like someone who would be at home in the ocean? What did that mean..? Skylar blinked in confusion as the man continued to speak with her about it. As he continued to talk, her eyes widened. Wait a second, did he? Was he-- Oh god. Rio had mentioned how Hunters who hunted people who changed shapes could sense others. Hand tightening on her workbag, she stiffened. “I-- I guess?” She stammered, trying to figure out how to best deny this. But if he was a Hunter, why would that be something smelling related? She really wished that Rio had told her more about how Hunters figured out who people are. Hunting on land? Fish on occasion? Oh god. He was a Hunter and he’d figured out what she was and he was going to try and take her skin or just actually try and kill him. “I-- No, no, you’re okay. Really, you don’t need to do that.” Skylar said, waving her hands in a slightly panicked gesture.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you,” Ulfric backed away even further, holding up his hands and nodding in acknowledgement towards the barista who had begun glaring at him for harassing their customer. “Nevermind about the coffee,” He conceded, depositing the change he’d got out into the tip jar instead. Turning back to the young woman he then cautioned her in a hushed but carefully enunciated tone. “I just wanted to warn you; There are owls in our bog. Pigs in our forest. There are… I don’t know the American expression but there are a lot of people around town right now looking to do folks like us harm. Take care of yourself, alright?” The wolf moved around in a wide arc around her, allowing her space as he made his way towards the exit of the Coffee Plus, his original purpose for being there abandoned. Clearly he wasn’t going to be much use to anyone until he got some rest, he thought, running his fingers through his hair and letting out a frustrated sigh. Maybe he could find a discreet place in the shop to nap before his first consultation arrived.

The confused expression on Skylar’s face only grew as the man backed out of the line, tossing his money in the tip jar and then he gave a strange warning. Bog? Pigs? American expression? “I really don’t understand but, you really don’t need to go-- Oh no.” She said in dismay as she watched the man hurry out of the coffee shop. She really hadn’t meant to chase someone off like that, but… she didn’t know what he was talking about. At first, he’d seemed like a hunter, but then he was saying something ominous about owls in the woods? Did that mean he wasn’t one? Turning back to the barista, she placed her order, pausing when they asked her if she wanted anything else. “Um. And a large drip coffee, please. No room for cream.” She added.

When her drinks were slid across the counter, Skylar hurried out the door and looked around. He was a tall man with a large bushy beard. He was the kind of person who would stand out in a crowd, and the early morning streets of White Crest certainly weren’t crowded. Spotting him, Skylar hurried after him, moving as quickly as she dared with two hot drinks in her hands. “Sir?” She asked timidly after him. “I felt bad that you didn’t get a coffee because of… all that. So, um, please.” Skylar held out the large travel cup.

Ulfric had just finished firing off a quick text to Ariana, ‘Got to rush to work. Don’t be late for school. I’ll pick up food for you + C on the way home’ when he heard the young woman call out to him and pivoted back to her. “That’s nice of you,” he accepted the offered coffee graciously. “Clearly I need it.” He took a long steadying sip. “I’m Ulfric, by the way, that would’ve been a smarter way to start. Here,” He retrieved a glossy business card for Ink Inc from his scuffed leather wallet. “If you change your mind and ever want to talk to someone about, well, changing you can contact me here. Or if you’re ever in trouble,” He held it out in the hopes of exchanging it for the kindly offered caffeine, but if she didn’t take it there was still a chance she’d remember his name if she ever needed it. He was fairly certain he was the only Ulfric in town. “I might be biased but I think we’re safer and stronger if we stick together.”

When the man held out the business card, Skylar hesitated for a moment. She wasn’t entirely certain what to expect from him-- first he’d seemed like a Hunter, dropping hints about things that he might know what she was, but then… he’d backed off. Given, they were in a public space, but the streets weren’t busy. He could easily just grab hold of her, attack her, without her being able to do anything. But instead, he was holding out a business card and saying something about changing. Frowning, she took the card from him, looking at it briefly. “Ulfric Haakonsson.” She read outloud, her tongue stumbling over the strange last name. “Sorry. I’m not good with unfamiliar names. But, um… what do you mean by that? Sticking together? Do you--” She balked, looking around carefully. There was no one around, at least, no one she could see nearby. “Are you… different?” She asked, not sure how else to frame her question.

Ulfric grinned as she took the card. Doing one small uncomplicatedly right thing felt like a massive relief amidst the tangled mess of conflicting priorities he’d suddenly found himself in with the Bennetts. “Don’t apologize, that’s my great-great-grandfather Haakon’s fault for sticking us with one,” He waved off her apology, unable to hold in a laugh at her downplayed question. Compensating for still keen but less than peak performance hearing, he glanced along the street to confirm no one was in earshot before answering. “Around the full moon, sure.The rest of the time it depends who’s defining normal. Unfortunately for us those with the least tolerance for things deemed irregular, tend to be the most... well-armed. What about you?” He flipped the query back around on her, encouraged by her apparent curiosity. “Are you saying you consider yourself ordinary?”

When the man-- Ulfric-- let out a laugh, Skylar blinked in confusion. Had she said something funny? She didn’t quite understand why he would be laughing. But, when he mentioned the full moon, her stomach lurched. Werewolf. He was a werewolf, he must be. She didn’t know of any other kind of creature--person, that turned with the full moon. And… that must be how he could tell that she was some kind of creature as well. Because his sense of smell. He could tell what she was just at a glance. Biting the inside of her cheek, Skylar weighed her options. He knew she wasn’t human. She couldn’t lie. She hated that she couldn’t keep it a secret from him. But… if he was telling her what he was, he must be a good person, right? He was honest. And he’d said those kind words, of being stronger and safer together. They were words she’d heard from Ricky, but had been long abandoned. Could she trust this man? Realizing she hadn’t answered, Skylar cleared her throat. “No. Not really,” Her words came out in a slightly halting tone, not sure how to put what she was into meaningful euphemisms. “I don’t always feel comfortable in my own skin. And the sea, it’s where I’m meant to belong. I’m just not always… the best at dealing with it.” She said, hoping he would understand what she meant.

“Well, the world we’re living in certainly doesn’t make it so easy,” Ulfric replied thoughtfully, milling over the young woman’s words for clues that could be matched with what he knew of other shifter species. The mention of skin pointed towards selkie, but the comment about not being comfortable in hers was confusing and a little concerning. The close-knit colony he’d heard about in Iceland frequently returned to sea in their true forms, and he didn’t see putting it off for extended periods could possibly be healthy. Then again the current climate in White Crest wasn’t exactly friendly towards shifter habits. “Maybe it’s best if you lay low for a while,” He added with a hint of sadness. “Hunting season is heating up and they don’t tend to discriminate between one ‘beast’ and the next.” He mimed quotation marks with his free hand to make it clear he didn’t really believe that label hunters had slapped on all shifters and supernatural animals applied to them. “Just keep in mind my offer, alright? If you’re ever finding things too much to handle on your own.”

“No, it really doesn’t.” Skylar agreed, hoping that he understood what she’d meant. Did he realize that she was a selkie? She wasn’t quite sure how else she could make it clear, without just saying “I turn into a seal sometimes.” And this wasn’t quite the time or place to make such a statement. The man’s advice, words about a hunting season, they rang loud and clear. People were out in White Crest, looking to harm them. Looking to hurt people who were… like her. Who could change into things, even if they didn’t really want to. Swallowing, Skylar nodded. “Thanks for the advice.” She said with a nod, though her mind couldn’t help but go to Nic and to Rio and to how they were different. They weren’t just mindless murderers. They were good people, stuck in roles they didn’t quite like either. “I will. I… I might take you up on that.” She offered a small smile.

“That’s all I can ask for.” Ulfric nodded, understanding why she’d remain hesitant. Unfortunately, there was only so much he could say to reassure her of his trustworthiness in the middle of the street. “Be seeing you around then, maybe.” Returning her smile, he gave a semi-reluctant wave goodbye before continuing in the direction of the parlor. He would just have to hope that the few words of warning he’d been able to give her would be enough to keep her from harm until she did decide to reach out or the problem was permanently, bloodily resolved. The news had undoubtedly added to the weight on the young shifter’s shoulders, and he did feel a small pang of regret for that. But, he concluded, as he arrived at the shuttered Ink Inc. shopfront, a few more blissful moments of ignorance weren’t worth dying over. It wasn’t until he got the heavily bolted shop door open that he realized he’d never got her name or any way to check up on her himself. Faen, he was going to need a lot more coffee.

#p: ss #p: ulfric haakonsson

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armysquared-blog · 5 years ago

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you’re so fine | ksj

⇢ overview: when kim seokjin, a normally happy and upbeat customer, comes in looking broody and exhausted, you decide to write a pick up line on his coffee cup to brighten his day.

⇢ pairing: kim seokjin x reader

⇢ word count: 2,079

⇢ genre: fluff, coffee shop au, college au

⇢ author’s note: pfft...i worked at starbucks for a whole three weeks before quitting so i am definitely qualified to write a coffee shop au, right? :p anyway, hope you enjoy! xx sofia

“Hi, welcome to Busy Bean! What can we get started for you today?”

The man in front of you blinked once, trying to rid the bleariness away from his eyes. He had dark, tousled hair that fell over across his face in an effortless, yet elegant manner and startling brown eyes that pierced your own.

“I’ll have an Espresso Macchiato, please,” he said, pushing his black-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose. “Maybe throw in two extra shots for good measure.”

You hummed, uncapping your Sharpie and scribbling his order on the paper cup. “One Espresso Macchiato with two extra shots. Got it. And can I get a name for that order?”

“Jin.”

“Perfect. Will that be all for you today?” you asked, waiting for him to nod in confirmation. “Okay, great. That’ll be $3.75.”

He shuffled in his place, pulling his wallet out of his pocket and handing you a five. “Keep the change.”

You beamed, placing the change in the tip jar next to you. “Thank you! Your order will be ready in a few minutes.”

As Jin wandered to the pick up counter with a mindless stare fixated at the bookshelf on the wall, you quickly took the next customer’s order. It was finals week, which meant every coffee shop on campus was packed everyday during all hours of the week. You just thanked the heavens the coffee shop you worked at wasn’t open for 24 exhausting hours.

“Hi, welcome to Busy Bean! What can we get started for you today?” you greeted once more in the same cheerful yet monotonous voice.

By the time you finished taking two more orders--all the while sneaking glances at Jin, who simply stared at one spot on the wall with slanted eyes--his order was ready.

“I got this one,” you told your coworker, ignoring her confused look as you grabbed a Sharpie and scribbled something on the sleeve of his now completed drink.

Satisfied, you capped your pen and twirled it around your fingers.

“Espresso Macchiato with two extra shots for Jin,” you called before you could rethink your actions and lose your nerve.

Glancing up from the blank wall, he came to collect his drink. From your spot behind the counter, you saw his eyebrows furrow at the sight of the black writing on his cup.

If you were coffee grounds, you’d be espresso because you’re so fine. ;)

With a mixture of surprise and amusement, Jin’s head shot up in the direction of the cash register, making eye contact with you on his way out of the cafe. Flushing slightly, you sent him a cheeky grin, waving goodbye before you turned your attention back to the customer at hand.

You heard a small laugh coming from Jin as he exited the store, and you couldn’t help but think how much you wanted to hear it again.

- - - - -

It was the following day when you woke up to a 5 a.m. alarm for the dreaded opening shift.

Shaking the water off your bright yellow umbrella, you open the door to the cafe to be greeted by a shift lead. Today was Wednesday, one of your least favorite days of the week since you were scheduled for mornings at the Busy Bean. It was particularly hectic during finals when you were barely getting enough sleep as is.

“Good morning, Namjoon,” you greeted your lead, trying to sound more awake and enthusiastic than you really were.

“Morning, Y/N,” he said, stifling a tired yawn as he refilled the espresso beans. “I’m almost finished setting up so I just need you to glaze the chocolate croissants and we’ll be ready to open.”

“Will do.”

Humming, you headed toward the kitchen in the back and pulled out the warmed croissants from the oven. By the time you finished adding glaze and chocolate drizzle to the pastries, there was still a little less than an hour before opening.

You headed to the front counter of the store, gratefully accepting the cup of hot chocolate he offered when you saw a frantic figure through the glass window fogged up by the rain.

“Oh, damn it,” you heard through the door as the man tried to enter only to find out the store was not yet open.

Peering closer, you let out a quiet ‘oh’ is shock. “Jin?”

Though you knew he couldn’t hear your silent whisper, Jin eventually looked up, making eye contact with you as he flicked his wet hair out of his face to reveal his sheepish expression.

“Is that someone outside the door?” Namjoon questioned from behind you, taking a sip of his third coffee of the morning. When he drew closer, he realized there was a man standing outside in the pouring rain and frowned. “He does realize we’re not open yet, right?”

“Namjoon!” you said in a chastising tone, holding your hand out for the keys. “We can’t just leave a customer outside with the weather like this.”

“But I just mopped the floors,” he mumbled before grudgingly handing you the ring of keys from his wrist. When you took it from him, he sighed and walked back to the staff room, calling out, “Just make sure you clean up any mess before we open.”

“Yes, sir.”

In a hurry, you fumbled with the keys in your one hand and the cup of cocoa in the other before finally unlocking the door. As Jin stepped inside, you saw small droplets of water drip from his hair onto his already damp clothes.

You bit the inside of your cheek to suppress a giggle at his dazed blinks. “Well, someone didn’t check the weather forecast this morning.”

“I’m afraid not,” he chuckled, the corner of his mouth tilting upward before rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry for getting the floor wet.”

“It’s not a problem. I’ll just dry it before we open,” you said, shrugging him off as you lead him to a booth. You sat opposite him as he took his puffy jacket off and placed it on the seat. “So, what brings you here so early?”

“A certain barista left the best pick up line on my coffee cup and I had to come back as soon as possible for the chance to see the love of my life again.”

“Funny.” Your cheeks heated and you were suddenly thankful for the dimly lit boothing area. “And the real reason?”

Jin clutched his chest in mock offense. “You don’t believe my confession of love?”

You gave him your best unamused look as you took a sip from your hot chocolate, trying to ignore the butterflies you were feeling inside.

“Fine, fine.” He held his hands up in defeat. “I have a physics final at eight and I just wanted to get to campus early. But I’ll admit seeing you is quite the nice surprise.”

“It’s nice seeing you, too. Even though you came in before opening and got the floors all wet,” you teased with a dimpled grin. “But an eight a.m. final sounds horrible. Is that why you looked so tired yesterday?”

He nodded. “I had two finals that day. Cramming the night before is never a good idea yet I can’t seem to do otherwise.”

“The lifecycle of a student.”

“Amen.”

Taking a slow sip from your drink, you felt warmth course through you as you noticed the slightly damp state Jin was still in. Your eyes widened and you placed the cup down in an instant.

“How rude of me!” you chided yourself, wiping the remnants of the drink off your face with the back of your hand as you got ready to stand up. “You’re probably starving.”

“I’m not, don’t worry about--”

“Nonsense.” You waved him off, clearing your throat and raising your voice so Namjoon would surely hear you. “I’m certain my lovely shift manager wants me to make something nice and warm for a loyal customer who was standing out in the rain.”

You waited for his response. One beat passed. Two…

Namjoon sighed in defeat. “As long as you clean up before opening-- I didn’t see a thing.”

You grinned. “Perfect!”

Before Jin even had to chance to open his mouth in reply, you shot up from your chair and sauntered behind the counter, making him an Espresso Macchiato with an extra shot and quickly grabbing a chocolate croissant from the hot oven. In record time, you paced back over to Jin with the drink and food in hand.

Glancing at you in surprise, he checked the digital clock on his phone.

“That took you less than five minutes,” he said, thoroughly impressed. “Those were some serious barista skills at work.”

You gave him a half-curtsey before you placed the cup and croissant in front of him. “Thank you, thank you. I try.”

Wrapping a hand around the base of his mug, Jin expressed his gratitude and pulled a wallet out of his pocket. “How much do I owe?”

You shook your head. “Don’t worry about it-- It’s on the house.” Before he could argue with you, you continued, “Besides, you can always pay me back in other ways.”

He blinked, the corner of his mouth twitching ever so slightly.

You stared at each other in a confused silence before you realized the implications of your statement.

“Not like that,” you rushed, almost stumbling over your own words as you quickly averted your gaze. “I meant ‘pay me back’ with your company, or something. Not...sexually or anything of that sort.”

“Of course. I never would’ve thought of it as sexual,” said Jin, straight-faced. “But if you were referring to it as such, I couldn’t say I would mind.”

Your cheeks heated up and you mumbled, “Just eat your croissant.”

He laughed, holding a hand up in surrender as he took a sip of his coffee. “Sorry-- Am I coming on too strong? I guess I just thought since you wrote a pick up line on my coffee cup yesterday, you would be interested in someone who’s a little more forward.”

“Oh.” Your flush grew even deeper. “Well… I guess I--”

Before you could finish your reply, you heard a groan of frustration from the nearby staff room.

“For fuck’s sake-- Can one of you just ask the other out already?” Both of your heads whipped over to Namjoon, who was sitting on the couch with a coffee in hand, listening in on the conversation. With a shake of his head he muttered, “Kids these days with their tip-toeing and pining.”

“We’re the same age, Namjoon,” you hissed, hiding your embarrassment behind your sleeve. You suddenly regretting voting Kim Namjoon for employee of the month. “And Jin and I were not about to ask each other out!”

“We weren’t?” said Jin.

If it were possible for your face to burst into flames, it would’ve. “No?”

“That’s too bad,” he continued. “Because I was sure I felt something brewing between us.”

You blinked. Did he just--?

“It’d be a shame to miss my once in a lifetime chance with a hot-tea.”

You quirked your head to the side.

“I’ll be thinking about you a latte--”

“This is getting embarrassing,” muttered Namjoon, visibly facepalming at Jin’s unapologetic pick up lines. “Y/N, please. Maybe he’ll stop if you say you’ll go out with him.”

Burying your face in your hands, you stifled a groan before you heard the same twinkling laughter you couldn’t get enough of. You chanced a peek up and you saw Jin looking at you with a wide smile, his nose scrunching up as he beamed.

He really was cute, you thought. And you couldn’t help but enjoy his terrible pick up lines. They were almost as bad as yours.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you jotted your number down on a pastry bag and slid it in towards him. “You should head to your final now. But when it’s over, you maybe we can give this dating thing a chai.”

Jin burst out into another fit of giggles and Namjoon exhaled in disappointment.

“I think I’ll take you up on that offer,” said Jin, tracing the pen marks of your number on the pastry bag with a grin. “I’m looking forward to it, Y/N.”

“Me too, Jin.”

And as you gave him a brief hug goodbye, you smiled to yourself. Who knew that one terrible pick up line would lead to all this?

#bangtan #bts #bts x reader #kim seokjin x reader #seokjin x reader #jin x reader #ksj x reader #bts fluff #bts fanfiction #bts imagines #bangtan fanfiction #x reader #reader insert #fanfiction #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #bts jin #seokjin

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inkribbon796 · 5 years ago

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The Other Side

Summary: Anti’s bored, and he does terrible things when he’s bored. Virgil just happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. So the heroes have to save the day, without roughing Anxiety up too much in the process.

Encore: Right Here, Right Now

Virgil lived with Deceit and Remus, and he hated every part of it. The place they stayed at was in one of the worst parts of town, and they’d been living there for over a year now. It was never warm enough. Deceit’s first order of business when acquiring the place was to get his hands on a number of heaters and keep the room they slept in warm. But unless you were in that room, it was freezing.

So Virgil walked out of the apartment in normal clothing and hung around King’s Park, just crowd watching. He had his headphones in and his hood drawn up.

His favorite thing about the park was that if you wanted to be left alone, people left you alone. Except for the hiccup with Yan and the police one night, even Dark’s enforcers and network stayed out of the park. It helped Virgil feel like he had some type of privacy.

He stayed at the park for a while, and when he finally got hungry, went for a walk to figure out what he wanted, making sure to go in costume so that people would keep leaving him alone.

Something that turned into a bad idea when he heard the sound of a power box on top of the radio arching. Virgil looked back to see Anti scratching his claws against the electrical box, Natemare was standing next to him with a bag in his hands. Both of the chaotic villains were smiling at him.

Anti was the one who spoke, “Hey, kid, where’s yer old man?”

“I’m not a kid,” Virgil spat back, trying to get away from the edge of the roof. He was preparing to summon his spider legs to escape. Maybe he could get back to Dark’s area.

“Can’t fly can ye?” Anti took the bag from Natemare, and the other glitch demon turned into electricity and slipped back into the wires of the electrical box, a smile still on his face as he vanished.

“I can cling to walls, I don’t need to fly,” Anxiety trying to sound tough even though his heart was beating almost out of control.

“Good,” Anti smiled. “Yah know, Dark’s usually really tight-lipped about the stuff his boys collect fer ‘im, but he must have gotten wasted because he was carryin’ this . . .”

Anti pulled out what looked like an MP3 player but it looked like something that was probably cursed. “. . . Around like he was proud of it. An’ I figured ye should have it.”

“I’m not touching that,” Virgil snapped. “It looks like it’ll possess me. Why would you even give me that thing?”

Anti shrugged and the thing went up into a string of code, “Cause it’ll make him furious, an’ he won’t let me get close enough to his desk ta piss in his coffee.”

“Then why give it to me, he’ll just think I took it,” Virgil argued.

Walking over, Anti tried to set his hand on Anxiety’s shoulder. Virgil ducked away immediately.

“Why so nervous, guess ye live up to yer name, huh Anx?” Anti laughed. “Well, I’ll see if I can pawn it off to some third rate drug dealer, that’ll flip the town on its head.”

“Yeah, just keep that thing away from me,” Anxiety sprouted out his spider legs and just left, trying to get as far from Anti as possible, and was surprised when no one was following him. So, eager to calm down he grabbed a quiet spot of roof with enough of a protection for him to sit on and lean against, he put in his earphones again.

He was listening to some MCR at first and it was helping, but slowly in the background static began to build and Virgil was getting sleepy.

It wasn’t until he collapsed onto the ground in a head that Virgil realized something was wrong with him. The world seemed fuzzy and he could barely move his eyes.

His panic got worse when Anti appeared in front of him, smiling. Natemare was next to him, holding the MP3 player, hooked up to his own ears.

“Yah know, I think yah got a good head on your shoulders, taking somethin’ from me would’a been a dumb idea,” Anti smiled as he took the player from Natemare but was careful to still keep the headphones in Natemare’s ears. “Shouldn’ta let us walk off with it, though.”

Virgil could feel he was crying as the static in his head began to build, it was getting harder to think, harder to breathe. Anxiety couldn’t even blink anymore, his eyes were just staring at Anti.

“So let’s have some fun, it’s been ages since I’ve had a puppet,” Anti grinned and pressed something on the MP3 and Virgil’s body stood up of its own volition. “You’ll love it, N. It’s the best.”

Virgil was mentally shaking because his body refused to as Anti tossed Natemare the MP3, the other glitch demon was smiling.

For the heroes it was a normal day of patrols, and Logan coming in and out of their routine. All Logan would say was that he was conducting research as a favor to the Host and if he needed assistance, Logan or the Host would ask.

Logan was with Eric and Randall, keeping his watch on them more than anything else.

“At this rate, you’ll make it full time,” Logan smiled, talking to Eric.

“R-Really?” Eric smiled hopefully.

“Your control has greatly improved,” Logan praised.

“Hey, what’d I tell yah,” Randall grinned.

Eric smiled warmly, and then looked back down the street before he paled, pointing, “Uh, guys?”

Logan and Randall looked down the street, but it looked completely normal.

“What do you see?” Logan braced to grab his TASER.

“My dad,” Eric looked like he was about to vomit or curl up into a ball in sheer terror.

“Eric, he’s dead,” Randall reminded.

Eric took a fearful step back and Logan finally saw something, but it wasn’t Derek. Suddenly Logan was alone on a stage with bright lights shining down at him. Everything felt wrong, like he’d been forced to down five cups of coffee, each with about three shots of espresso, one right after the other. He could see a couple wrinkles and old stains on his favorite button-down shirt and tie.

“Thomas Sanders,” a disembodied voice in the darkness called out before Logan was hit with a string of trivia. Some he could answer, others he couldn’t. Every wrong answer or even slightly incorrect one was met by a harsh sounding buzzer. It barely took three questions before Logan realized he’d been caught in Anxiety’s fear powers, how he’d been caught so flatfooted was beyond him.

The whole ordeal was a little too frustrating and taxing on Logan, and the situation seemed to be already spiraling out of control.

“You’re not real,” Logan tried to fight the illusion, but it felt like he was hitting a brick wall with nothing but his bare fists. As if he knew it was fake, could see a way out, but he couldn’t free himself by just denying it.

Logan kept repeating it, trying to find some crack in Anxiety’s fear illusion. Then, a hand rested on his shoulder. “Lo.”

Logan turned around to see Patton, who looked like he was about to crumple into a terrified heap himself. “Sorry.”

“For?” Logan began before he was knocked out by something behind him. The logical side falling to the ground in a heap.

He woke up an indeterminate amount of time to the sounds of someone arguing. It gave him an instant migraine and he groaned in pain. “Where are Randall and Eric?” Logan asked immediately.

“Oh look, now he’s awake,” Roman said. “They’re sleeping their ordeal off.”

“No thanks to you,” Logan groaned, holding his head. His vision was swimming could someone obtain some painkillers and water.”

“Yeah,” Patton said, “give me a minute.”

Roman opened his mouth, but Logan cut him off.

“You will wait until my headache has abated,” Logan ordered. “Or I will not listen.”

“Fine,” Roman responded grumpily. He was given a little respite to relax and massage his temples.

When he signaled, Roman began, taking a deep breath before letting out a long rant, “Virgil used his fear powers to blanket half the town in a crazed fear spell and now he’s using it to take over the town. This proves he’s evil and needs to be stopped. See this is why we don’t trust villains because they betray, and-or kill us, and really we should have seen this coming. Patton doesn’t believe me, and I need you to talk sense into him.”

Logan just stared at him, waiting to see if he was actually done or not. Then he looked around. “Iplier I need a scientific explanation.”

Roman groaned, “Come on, Lo.”

“Dude, your friend is whack and took out half the city in a gnarly fear trip,” Bing interrupted.

Logan groaned, “I was talking to the Doctor, I’d rather have Roman’s explanation than that one.”

“It was pretty cool though,” Roman praised, offering a fist bump and Bing’s fist tapped his. Dr. Iplier was coming over to explain the situation in terms Logan could understand without a headache

“S’no problemo dude, glad you liked it,” Bing smiles. “But, uh, Anxiety’s probably not working alone.”

“Explain,” Logan turned back to Bing.

“So, I went to scout out what was going on, ‘cause the magic whatever doesn’ work on droids like me and Googs, but Anxiety was with Natemare an’ Anti,” Bing rambled. “So I got out of there, they totally didn’t see me.”

He was with both of ‘em?” Logan asked.

Yeah, it was super weird, dude was just staring out into space,” Bing reported.

“Do you have any video logs on the subject?” Logan demanded. Bing nodded and hooked up the closest Ipad anyone had on hand as he began to play a short clip of Anxiety standing in front of Anti and Natemare, the two of them talking as Anxiety was just staring. Standing unnaturally still.

“That’s a bit creepy, even for him,” Roman admitted.

“Something’s wrong with him,” Patton cut in. “Normally he doesn’t have good posture but his back’s like a piece of plywood.”

“Hold up a sec,” Iplier interrupted, and rushed to the door that contained both his and Henrik’s side offices. “Hey, Henrik, get out here, I need your opinion on something.”

It took a minute, but Henrik was walking out with Iplier, the two of them talking quietly.

Once the German doctor was standing with the group he looked at the clip, his frown becoming a tight, worried line, “Zat is not gud.”

“What?” Edward asked his friend.

Henrik took the recording back a couple seconds and pointed to Virgil. “He is copying Anti.”

“Is this a possession thing?” Dr. Iplier asked. “Anti can still do that right?”

“He’s what?” Patton exclaimed, bringing back Logan’s headache. “What are we going to do? We can’t leave him like that.”

“Patton, don’t scream,” Logan rubbed at his temples.

“This is awful,” Patton took the Ipad, looking heartbroken. “He must be so scared. What can we do to stop Anti?”

“Well, a little nap usually helps,” Henrik admitted. “But he might not like us after’vard.”

“But he’ll be free, that’s good, right, Roman?” Patton turned to him.

Roman hesitated, but after looking at Patton and then the Ipad, he sighed, “Yeah, Mopey Frown doesn’t deserve it.”

“That doesn’t explain what we’re going to do?” Dr. Iplier. “If it was just Anti and Natemare would could probably send a couple guys and have Logan use an EMP bomb.”

The American doctor turned to Logan, “Do you still have one?”

“Yes,” Logan admitted hesitantly. “But Anxiety is purely organic, and even if he wasn’t the range on them is too close. I would become consumed by his abilities.”

“What about Emile?” Bing spoke up. “You guys and King said Em’s got some kind of emotional empathy power like Patton, you just need to see him. Stand five blocks away on a rooftop.”

Patton made an uncomfortable noise, “Yeah, but Anxiety doesn’t like Emile, and Em can’t really do anything if the person’s fighting him. Anxiety’s gonna fight us on every word. Emile’s a bit of a squishy target. Can’t really fight against either Anti or Natemare.”

“You know who can though,” Roman’s face lit up. He looked over at Logan with a huge smile, leaning in closer to him.

Logan groaned. “Fine, if we must.”

“We kinda do,” Roman’s grin didn’t go away, it only got wider.

“Don’t pretend you hate it,” Roman told Logan. “I know you like being Remy.”

“So you two are going to fuse?” Bing asked.

“Yes,” Roman summoned and iced coffee. “Hold this for me, we’re going to want it in a bit. Don’t drink it.”

“You got it bro,” Bing promised.

Quickly Roman pulled Logan into the main area and was still all smiles as the creative Side held both hands up to snap his fingers and the space around them shifted. A twenty foot area around them turned into an old fashioned pub and Logan was now sporting a white button-down shirt and a black vest. Roman in a red vest that wasn’t buttoned.

“Let’s get started,” Roman smiled.

“I won’t cut out halfway into the song again,” Logan warned. “I still have a headache.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it Specs,” Roman smiled. “I wouldn’t dare stop a show tune halfway.”

Roman snapped his fingers as music began coming from the very room around them.

~::~ One Hour Later ~::~

Silver and Jackie were walking down Main St. with Remy walking behind them. The fused Side’s sunglasses over his eyes, drinking his iced coffee.

“So you two coming with me?” Remy asked.

“As soon as Anxiety’s done, we’ll take care ‘a the demons,” Jackie promised.

“Nice, I’m not exactly demon proof,” Remy smile, taking his still free hand and snapped his fingers at Jackie.

Remy set his coffee on top of the closest and safest surface. “Let’s do this,” the fused Side yelled. “Anx won’t stop himself.”

With that Remy stepped into the start of the fear bubble, as the other heroes had taken to calling it, that part of the city was in various states of disrepair. The people trapped in this part had either been rescued or were still causing destruction. Remy felt Virgil’s powers trying to affect him but with two different minds and two different fears, it seemed like it was having a hard time locking onto Remy himself.

Remy did try and knock out as many people as he could, just so they couldn’t keep harming themselves or others. He tried to put them in safe locations. The rest of the heroes could clean up behind him.

It didn’t take long to find Anxiety, neither the glitch demons or Virgil were exactly trying to hide.

“Hey crawler,” Anti caled out time Virgil. “You missed one.”

Virgil turned as if he’d been jolted and Remy could see the panic on Virgil’s face. A panic that seemed to become more frantic when he saw Remy. “No. No. No. No.”

Oh, he looks bad. Roman thought.

Indeed, we need to make this quick. Logan agreed.

“Hey, Anx,” Remy greeted, sand already appearing at his fingertips. He was trying to keep calm and keep a pin on where Anti and Natemare were. “You look like you could use a nap.”

Anxiety’s spider limbs shot out and his hands went up. He took a fearful step back.

Anti snatched the MP3 from Natemare’s hands. “Where do ye think yer goin’ huh?”

“Hey,” Natemare snapped at him, but Anti was messing with it and Virgil took a jolted step forward.

The exchange didn’t go unnoticed by Remy or Logan immediately started studying Virgil.

Now! Logan commanded and Remy smiled. Then he bolted for Virgil who looked even more terrified than before.

“Come on, V for Vendetta, work with me here,” Remy quipped, trying to get close enough to him to grab at the headphones still in his ears.

Virgil dodges, which both Remy and Roman thought was unfair someone with huge spider legs could still be so agile. “No, get away from me,” Anxiety shouted back, he stuck a leg in a piece of metal, probably from a car or a newspaper box and flung it at Remy.

The fusion barely dodged in time, and it almost hit Anti.

“Hey, watch it!” Anti hissed.

Remy glanced back, “Well that works too.”

Virgil kept throwing things at him, bits of rubble, pieces of smoking rubber, rocks, metal; and Remy kept dodging, trying get Anti and Natemare hit in the process.

It turned out that the fusion got to Virgil before the other villains could get hit. Remy tackled Virgil and panicked Side was trying to throw Remy back off.

“No, get off me,” Virgil was in a sheer panic and Remy reached up and grabbed the headphones off, knocking Virgil out with his sleep sand instantly. Anxiety slumping to the ground as the fear effects dissipated almost instantly.

“Shoot,” Anti frowned, walking towards Remy. “Well that was fun at least.”

“Woah, back it up, jazz,” Remy warned, standing between Virgil and the two glitch demons.

“Nah, he was gettin’ borin’ anyways,” Anti smiled, “Hey, interested in a cursed artifact?”

Jackie ran in at full speed, blinging fast with his super speed and slammed his fist into the glitch demon, screaming at the top of his lungs the instant he made contact. Anti violently fractured, but Jackie was now holding the destroyed MP3 player that the two glitch demons had been using.

The speedster cursed and looked around, spiking the device to the ground. Remy was quick to scoop the thing into his pocket and grab Virgil, pulling his arm over his shoulder. “Hey, I got Wednesday Adams,” Remy quipped. “Let’s split.”

“Pass him,” Silver flew over and Remy let the other superhero take the unconscious Anxiety and fly away with him.

“Take him to Iplier, he trusts him,” Remy ordered before turning to Jackieboy Man who was trying to take on Anti while trying to avoid Natemare.

“Come on, Lo,” Remy muttered as he pulled the arm of his jacket up, Logan’s arm brace firmly strapped onto his wrist. “Tell me you calibrated it.”

Remy pressed a couple buttons, using Logan’s memories of the device to time up an EMP blast and grabbed onto of the fake bombs out of his pocket before rushing into the fight and throwing the thing at the two villains. It exploded on contact.

Anti and Natemare screamed and then they were gone. Jackie held his hands up, his nose bleeding and a bit disorientated from the light that had come from the fake EMP bomb.

“They gone?” Jackieboy asked.

“For now,” Remy agreed, holding his own heart. “I’m surprised it got both of them in one go.

Remy and Jackie spent some time with the authorities and the EMT’s, Silver and some of the other heroes arrived to help. Virgil had been dropped off with Iplier, still unconscious from Remy’s sleep sand. After the situation was manageable, the heroes headed back to the base. Mostly to relax, Remy immediately headed over to the medical ward where Ipler and Patton were, tending to a still-unconscious Virgil.

“How’s he doing?” Remy asked.

“You really knocked him out,” Iplier admitted, “but his vitals are stable.”

“Good,” Remy relaxed. “He’s gonna be pissed when he wakes up.”

“Hopefully not,” Patton whispered. “But he’ll probably be confused when he wakes up. I’m gonna make some cinnamon rolls”

“Sounds great, Patt-attack,” Remy lowered his glasses to the end of his nose. “How you doing? Wasn’t any time to ask earlier.”

“I’m good,” Patton smiled.

“Good,” the fused side asked. “How’s Em?”

“Doing well,” Patton’s smile got wider.

“Hey, am I ever going to actually meet Em?” Remy asked.

“As much as I’d like to, I can’t,” Patton looked away.

“A guy’s gotta try,” Remy shrugged, and snapped his fingers over Virgil. The petty thief’s nose twitched, and he groaned. “Rise and shine, sleeping beauty.”

Virgil’s eyes immediately shot open and his eyes started to look between Patton and Remy. He screamed and bolted off the table.

“Calm down, we didn’t arrest you,” Remy pushed his glasses up his nose in a Logan-esque manner.

“Did you need to wake him up so abruptly?” Patton frowned, crossing his arms in disapproval.

“Where am I?” Virgil demanded.

“My office,” Iplier interrupted. “The heroes brought you here to recover so you wouldn’t have the news poking at you while you slept.”

“Uhh,” Anxiety looked around, calmed by the fact he clearly wasn’t in handcuffs. “Thanks. I’ll just go.”

“You’re in the Heroes’ base,” Remy reminded, using Roman’s creativity powers to summon himself up a new frappuccino. “Prolly don’t wanna just walk out there just yet.”

“What?” Virgil balked.

Remy slurped noisily at his frappe. “Yeah.”

“I thought I wasn’t under arrest?” Anxiety reminded.

“You’re not,” Patton agreed.

“Haven’t even been read your rights,” Remy cut in. “Certainly can’t keep you here without cause since you obviously didn’t want to be there.”

“So, I can go,” Anxiety stood up.

“Let me level with you,” Remy grabbed a chair and sat down. “You know what I am, right?”

“That’s a stupid question,” Virgil told him. “Of course I do.”

“Then you know I speak from experience when I say you’re in every position to start making deals,” Remy told him. “Stay, talk a bit, and then if you still want Patt and I can walk you out so no one bothers you.”

“Why should I believe you?” Virgil spat.

“Because I’m not Dee,” Remy took another sip of his coffee. “Sides, Logan says your chances are good either way you take it.”

“So what do you guys want?” Virgil asked, sounding suspicious.

“Well,” Patton cut in. “You could join us.”

Anxiety just stared at him, a little surprised laugh slipping out of him, “Excuse me? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Anx, do you wanna spend the rest of your life trailing after Dee and Remus, cleaning up their messes?” Remy leaned in. “Cause that’s what you’re gonna be doing. If you’re really happy with being part of the League then commit and do it, don’t go off and rescue people and then claim to still be one of them.”

“Remy, be nice,” Patton warned.

Virgil was quiet, looking uncomfortable.

“Anx, pardon Rem,” Patton pleaded. “We don’t want you hurt. And I couldn’t stand to see Anti using you like that.”

“What do you care?” Virgil spat back. “Like you three ever cared, I got stiffed with the box and you three were too busy goofing off help me.”

“I regret that every day,” Patton started tearing up. “That I didn’t say something to you first, but I don’t wanna see you keep getting hurt. Logan doesn’t either.”

“Neither does Roman,” Remy interrupted.

Virgil glared at him.

Remy held up his hands, “I can’t turn back into them right now to give Ro a chance to prove it to you. All I can do is ask you to give us time to prove it. Please.”

The hostility in Virgil’s eyes started to soften. It took him a bit to answer, he started playing with his hands for a bit. “I’m not doing patrols, and I don’t do press conferences.”

“Deal,” Remy looked at Iplier and Patton. “I’ll talk to Silver and Jackie.”

“Hey, wait,” Virgil’s anxiety spiked. He stood up, “you can’t just do that.”

“It’ll be fine,” Remy promised, holding the door open for Virgil to step through on his own. A couple leaps of faith.

Nervously drawing his hood over his face, Virgil followed him and Patton, Iplier bringing up the rear of the group but giving Virgil room to flee and move if he needed to. When they entered the main area of the base, Virgil hid behind Iplier.

“E’erythin’ okay?” Jackie asked, looking at Anxiety.

Iplier looked at Virgil, letting Virgil stay behind him. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Good,” Jackie nodded. “Anxiety, if you’re on the level, welcome to the group. Take a seat, try and relax.”

Patton smiled at Virgil and went off to go make some cinnamon rolls.

“Th-Thanks,” Virgil told him, looking around the room. His heart was still hammering out of his chest, but no one was attacking him or yelling at him. Virgil was so calm he’d completely forgotten about the deal he made with Dark weeks ago. Anxiety was just working on calming himself down.

Later that night, Anti walked out from the Void and in the middle of Dark’s main warehouse, shaking his head to clear some of the residue bits of the EMP black. He was more than a little angry. None of Dark’s enforcers guarding the place stopped him. “Hey, Dinodark!”

Dark walked out from his office, leaving the door open, a smile on his face as he snapped his neck to his right and straightened out his tie. “Ahh, Anti, you’re alive.”

“What did that thing actually do?” Anti asked. “I knew yah weren’t paradin’ it around fer shits an’ giggles.”

“It served its intended purpose,” Dark shrugged. “I have to thank you for being so predictable and helping out. Anxiety drags his feet and I wanted him out of the League.”

“Well, the hero’s have a new chump working with Logic,” Anti warned. “He had Logic’s tech.”

“A new apprentice?” Dark mused. “This new hero have a name?”

“Don’t know, couldn’t be bothered,” Anti shrugged, pulling a knife out. “You owe me, shitbag.”

“You stole something from me with the intent to harm my network, I owe you nothing,” Dark reminded. “I could have had Anxiety thrown out without your help.”

“Ye owe me Google fer the next month,” Anti argued.

Dark scoffed, already turning around before Anti literally snarled and lunged at the greyscaled entity. The two starting a scuffle between two of them. Dark’s enforcers moved out of the way as Dark’s aura clashed with Anti’s knives.

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bestgroundcoffee101 · 4 years ago

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How to Choose Commercial Coffee Machines - Espresso Machines, Bean to Cup, Bulk Brew

These information is intended to give general information on the range of commercial coffee machines that are used in the Coffee Industry now. I apologise in advance if I'm "Teaching you how to suck eggs. " Having been a consultant mixed up in Coffee World for some years, advising clients and helping them choose the right equipment to suit their needs. Believe people when I say that there have been many people who have asked the question, "What's an egg? " Facts are facts therefore, the following is my interpretation and how I advise clients. There have been many changes in the UK's interest in coffee within the last 10 - 15 years. The need for real espresso based coffees has increased dramatically. Instant coffee available a tin, or at best "Pour and Serve" filter coffee machines were the main way of providing flavored coffee during the past thirty years. I can speak from past experiences when selling coffee machines that prepare "real bean" espresso based coffees to businesses in the food and drink sector. These days those types of business wouldn't consider anything as few as a traditional Espresso machine or Bean to Cup machine. Back then, the British public was really only used to "instant" type coffee and Espresso was something foreign. Businesses didn't see the need to go "foreign. " Thankfully, the only thing that has changed. With the evolution of the High Street big brands of Coffee Bars. The growth in Café Traditions in the UK and the influence of the well known "American" food outlets. The public's perception of Coffee has changed and be more refined. In fact , the UK is now officially a nation of coffee drinkers. To respond to this many unbiased businesses have moved towards more sophisticated methods of producing coffee to compete in the coffee market. From the standard Italian style Espresso machine to the more complex Bean to Cup automatic coffee machines, it is possible to produce a wide range involving high quality espresso based coffees very simply. In 1938, Milan coffee bartender, Achille Gaggia filed a Obvious for a steam-free coffee machine. Unlike its predecessors, Gaggia's design used a revolutionary piston mechanism which forced mineral water through the coffee grounds at high pressure. It was his quest for the perfect espresso in 1930s Milan that gave beginning to one of Italy's most iconic brands, and heralded the production of the Espresso as we know it. Standard Espresso Coffee Machines are the type you see in Café Nero, Costa Coffee etc . There is a separate Grinder, which often sits on top of a Knockout Drawer which is used for the spent coffee pucks. Although most Traditional Espresso Devices have automatic dosing these days, the coffee making process is by hand (Artisan). The coffee shot; single and double is prepared using the machine. The milk is foamed using the machine Steam Wand. The coffee is usually then put together to make any one of the most popular coffees. Cappuccino, Latte, Mocha and Macchiato etc . All of the preparation increases the "Theatre" of the Coffee Culture. Customers have a higher perception of an "Artisan Coffee" and are willing to pay more. Exercise is required to ensure quality and consistency. With practice, staff will be able to provide customers with a superb range of popular speciality coffees. Coffee making in this way is looked on very much as an "Art form. " The size and the nature of espresso machines vary. Choosing the right machine to suit business requirements is important and should be given consideration. A person formally been trained in coffee preparation and has served coffee on a full time basis for a number of years are known as a "Barista. " The term comes from the Italian name for a male or female bartender. Bean to cup coffee machines are relatively recent extras to the coffee machine market. The principle is to be able to duplicate, more or less, the range of espresso based coffees that are regularly handmade on an espresso machine. All at the "Touch of a Button". As previously explained, when using an espresso product, a Barista would make coffees by hand. Although not a long process, it doesn't allow the Barista to prepare other food assignments for example. In fast food outlets, where staff do not have time to hand make a coffee, or where there is limited staff members training a bean to cup machine is the ideal solution. Bean to Cup machines are found in many self-serve environments such as Cafeterias, Company Canteens. Bean to Cup machines are becoming popular in Offices. Staff want the identical standard of coffee that they get from their favourite coffee shop. Also these days, many people have domestic Bean to Container machines in their kitchen. A Bean to Cup machine grinds the coffee beans to make espresso coffee on require. These systems also have built in automatic milk foamers that are able to produce steam and foamed milk for producing Lattes, Cappuccinos and other milk based drinks simultaneously. The process of producing coffee from a Bean to Cup machine differs from the others from a traditional espresso machine. The brewer in a Bean to Cup coffee machine works similarly to a Cafétiere. This coffee beans are ground into a brewing chamber and then a ram forces the hot water through the coffee, extracting that espresso coffee. A traditional espresso machine creates pressure that forces water through "group head" to produce the capuccino coffee. The software in a Bean to Cup machine allows for various types of drinks to be produced. These vary pc type of machine chosen. Generally commercial Bean to Cup machines have between 8 and 12 drink options. Basic and domestic bean to cup machines have a separate steam arm or foamer which means that milk with regard to Cappuccinos and Lattes have to be foamed separately. These machines are ideal for domestic use or small offices have been less than twenty drinks are required in any one day. Please be aware that if using a machine in a business environment it should possess a commercial warranty. This generally will not be available for low volume domestic machines. If you are considering a Bean to Drink machine for your business it should be noted that they are manufactured to different volume categories. Machines have to be matched to on a daily basis cups/day requirements/estimates, drink size and how quickly they will be needed. All Manufacturers' cups/day specifications are based upon a great 8oz serving with numbers spread evenly throughout the day. Typically low volume bean to cup can produce as much 50 coffees per day. Medium volume machines range between 100 and 150 a day. Medium to High sound would be 150 - 200 a day. High volume would be 200 - 500 cups per day. Bean to Goblet machines will protest if asked to do more than they were built to do and will appear slow at busy circumstances. There are no major training requirements to use a Bean to Cup machine. No Barista skills are really needed. Most of the more powerful high volume Bean to Cup machines have traditional Steam Wands so some "foaming" skills may very well be needed. Training is more to do with how to use and look after the machine. Cleaning is especially important when using a Bean to Cup machine. It's a good idea to have some knowledge of coffee beans so you can choose a blend that will to suit your customers' tastes. The final types of machine to consider if offering a "real" coffee are the ones that have been familiar for many years. Filter type caffeine made with Pre ground coffee. The type of machines depends upon volumes required. For example , high volumes of coffee may be necessary for breakfast coffees in Hotels. Conference Centres would require high volumes for seminar coffee breaks. Also, Purpose facilities, Staff canteens and Theatres where a high demand for fresh coffee is required in a short space of time. In this condition Bulk Brew coffee machines are highly recommended. These machines can produce between 30 and 140 Litres associated with fresh filter coffee per hour. There are a number of popular brands for Pour and Serve and Bulk Brew a cup of coffee machines. Pour and Serve coffee machines range from a simple two Jug filter coffee machine with two hot clothing or multiple hot plate Pour and Serve for up to four Jugs. The ultimate is a Bulk Brew coffee machine. A lot of these have one or two brewing columns. They have detachable brewing containers, capable of holding up to 40 Litres of coffee. Your convenient control panels with LCD display makes it easy to adjust brewing times and volume requirements. The detachable producing containers mean that high volumes of coffee can be served in different locations simultaneously. The other type of "filter" coffee machine is a RLX type from Bravilor. They are modular fresh filter machines with added hot water and steam facilities, well suited for producing hot water for teas as well as a steam for foaming and steaming milk. I hope that this article has been useful to determine the right type of coffee machine for your business needs.

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exobyharu · 5 years ago

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PCY - Ch4

Chapter 4: Tomorrow will be better

(Part 1)(Part 2)(Part 3)...(Part 5)(Part 6)

Summary: After some delays, you end up in the cafe with PCY just the same. You dish about life in general. At the end of the night, all hate left you and you fall asleep with a smile on your face.

⏰11:58 PM 🌏Hotel (S), City of (L) 🌚It was finally raining but neither of you notice 👥 YN, Park Chanyeol, your best friend Jane (mentioned), Kim Jongdae (mentioned)

Notes: I am still alive! I am so sorry that my update took too long! This is Part 4, the final part of my sort of introduction-slash-build-up for the actual story where PCY becomes a permanent fixture in your life :D

Words: ~2,000

💙💙💙

The server ushered you to the center of the café since it was the only unoccupied spot. The place was packed and ever since you stepped in, you had encountered all sorts of curious glances from the tables nearby. Maybe they recognised your companion, or maybe he was simply much too tall to be anyone insignificant. You tilted your head in apprehension, because you surely would have done the same and gawked at these spectacularly underdressed guests.

While Chanyeol was quick to brush them off, that was something you could not manage. In fact, you did not know which made you more uneasy: to have people stare at you because you looked like you had stepped out of a slasher film, or to have people discreetly eyeing the person you were with by pretending to just be facing in your general direction.

When you finally sat down across from each other, Chanyeol asked, “what are you having?” and that was a timely distraction from your thoughts. He looked blissfully oblivious to how he had managed to divert everyone’s attention to himself. You knew that he did not care. You did, though. It was uncomfortable.

“Just… whatever you’re having,” you answered, not because you weren’t fond of coffee, but because you believed that it was the polite thing to say. You also did not know what you wanted, frankly. It was starting to become the recurring theme of your life.

“Nocciola?” He said it like an invitation.

You shrugged.

Perhaps as a precaution, he ordered the sweetest drink on the list. The silence that ensued as you watched him scan through the menu made you realise that a proper conversation with Park Chanyeol is incredibly difficult compared to just heatedly yelling back at him from your suite’s balcony. You felt as if some part of your pride was softening up as you watched this guy kindly flag down a server. You were never the type to be moved just by someone’s looks and here you were, thinking to yourself that there had to be a first time for everything.

Making sure that he did not grow on you, you made it objectively clear that he was simply more perceptive than you gave him credit for. He was nice, only because he was on the penalty here - or at least he thought so.

“I just want to formally apologise to you for last night,” he said, confirming your suspicion, and for a second, the warmth in his voice made you think that he did not have to do this. You had to remind yourself about how difficult it was to arrange a room transfer to strengthen your resolve.

“Well, this is quite formal.”

“You don’t like it here?”

“It’s a bit much for an apology,” you admitted, still. Ten dollars for a shot of espresso? This place was too excessive for your taste. Whatever it was that he ordered, you hoped that it did not cost more than the money you had on you. You also hoped that he did not see through your worry.

“Could be your luck turning around. Had a bad day, right?”

Bad day? Absolutely. Luck? If a reversal of today’s luck meant having Park Chanyeol buy you a drink, then you did not want it. Your pride was not worth a tiny serving of overpriced Italian coffee.

Perhaps today was not really getting better for you. “Please don’t make me talk about it.”

Chanyeol was smiling with what felt like shining endearment. “You don’t have to.”

It was too much. He was either laying it on thick, or his smile was simply breathtaking up close. Your defences needed back up. “Then tell me why you’re so nice all of a sudden.”

“I’m nice all the time!” he whined, leaning back against the velvet seat in slight exasperation. He was a good four feet away from your face now. That’s better, you thought, until he pouted. His pout was equally lovable. “Last night was… just a breaking point.”

“U-huh,” was all you managed because you were damned and that was a big problem for you. Why was it such a difficult affair to ignore his charm? You, on the get go, had established that Chanyeol looked much better if he were nice, and tonight, he was exceptionally nice. This made him, by inference, exceptionally handsome too.

He dazzled.

You focused on your hands that were gripping the cold glass of water because you could not look at him. Breathe in, breathe out. You were having a difficult time keeping yourself together. You needed another massive glass of sangria poured on you. It was almost depressing that it came an hour and a half too early.

It proved to be too much effort, prompting your eyes to meet his. How was it possible when the rest of your body seemed to misbehave, too? Your fingers would not stop trembling and your feet shuffled under the table. This was worse than public speaking, except that nothing was really at stake. There was a very handsome guy seated before you, though. That was not supposed to be a problem.

“…never wanted it, so that’s why we’re on this date right now.”

You heard the word and your head snapped up in an instant.

A date?

You counted up to five while your head buzzed with what you would always say whenever you called Jane out for swooning over Kim Jongdae: Woman! We’re not teenagers anymore! We should stop crushing on celebrities and start dating actual real people!

How did you end up in a date with a celebrity and crushing on an actual real person instead?

In your head, you rallied to disprove both counts. But if you could not refute the latter, you decided to capitalise on the fact that this time was not a date. It’s not! “This isn’t a date, Mr. Park,” you clarified, definitely not watching the slight curve of his lips as he tried to suppress his smile.

“I know, I know. I was just hoping to get a reaction from you.” He had laughter in his eyes, which made his gaze even more magnetic. “And call me Chanyeol, for crying out loud!”

“You are loud. Don’t you ever get into trouble for it?”

“Sometimes, I have to be loud to make a living.”

“Sounds like a fun job to me,” you answered wryly.

“It’s not, when your boss thinks you’re not good enough.”

“U-huh.” His remark was surprisingly loaded and you were not sure if you were willing to explore that. You left the decision up to him instead. “From what I gathered, the world loves you.”

“What a life that would be. How about you?”

He did not seem inclined to entertain the direction you suggested. And even though you were not particularly excited to tell him, a stranger if not by name, about the summary of your life’s current struggles, you decided that this day was bad enough to deserve a proper rant as well.

“Well, since I’m an unemployed post-graduate, my displeased parents want to marry me off to their friend’s equally unemployed, but much more financially endowed son.”

Chanyeol’s eyes grew bigger. “…who poured red wine over your head at dinner?”

You managed a laugh despite your paranoia telling you that two middle-aged women were now taking photos of Chanyeol’s back. You had to focus. “…whose pregnant girlfriend poured wine over my head at dinner, actually.”

He whistled. “It’s never easy, is it? Life?”

“Sounds like a backstory you’d like to share.”

Chanyeol shook his head. “Nope.”

“Can I ask you questions then?”

He considered it. “As long as you answer them too.”

Given your excellent talent for sarcasm, this was not the response that you were hoping for. You always felt vulnerable talking about yourself, but if you always veered away from discomfort, you knew that you were veering away from self-discovery as well. Besides, a complete stranger would definitely give you the most objective assessment. And even though you never expected conversations like this to go down tonight, this was just the type that you may need.

“Life sucks, but I’m happiest when I can make other people happy,” you started vaguely after a few thoughtful seconds. “What makes life more tolerable for you?”

“Same.”

“The hell???” you choked, keeping your voice in check. “You can’t copy my answer!”

Chanyeol’s smile finally eased in again. “But I think the same!”

“Explain then.”

He hummed absently in response as the server arrived to serve your drinks. You breathed in the sweet scent the coffee placed on the table, only opening your eyes when he finally started talking.

“Tonkatsu,” he said, taking a sip from his drink. “Tonkatsu makes me happy. And performing on stage. With thousands of fans. Hearing them sing to our songs as we dance on stage with lights illuminating everything and confetti falling everywhere around me. That’s when I’m happiest.”

When you said nothing, he grinned. “Too detailed?”

“Not the details I’m looking for, but I guess it’s enough to paint a picture. It must be nice to be a superstar.”

“The people who matter are those who support you. Ignore everyone else who doesn’t. You don’t need to be a superstar to know that.”

“So, only your fans matter and your boss doesn’t. Is that what you’re saying?”

He playfully pointed a finger at you. “That is exactly what I’m saying. In fact...” Trailing off, Chanyeol turned to the bag beside his seat and fished out the only thing that could make a musician so thrilled. It was a signed copy of his album with some other guy that Jane would probably recognise with her eyes closed.

Seriously?

It was impossible for you to mirror his excitement, but you did not want to be rude. “What is this?” you asked instead.

The guy’s smile was beaming at you, no doubt eager to see you react positively. “It’s our subunit’s EP.”

Unfortunately, you were not one to fake it to be kind. “Thank you, I appreciate it. Even though, like I said, I’m not actually a fan.”

“Oh, but you will be, when you listen to it later!”

With that, you did not argue any further. It was enough that he believed you already and soon enough, the rest of the conversation flowed without effort. He even ended up telling you about why he was there in the hotel, and why his mentors think that isolation was a great opportunity for uninfluenced introspection and creativity. In return, you shared pretty much everything, including those that you refused to tell even Jane. It was not until the cafe was closing that the both of you realised that it had been at least a couple of hours since you sat down and started talking. Regretfully, with only Chanyeol’s EP as a souvenir, it was time to leave.

You took the elevator back to your floor that night feeling easy, having had a once-in-a-lifetime café conversation with an insanely handsome, remarkably perceptive and contagiously cheerful stranger. You could not remember the last time you enjoyed spending an evening, just being yourself without fear of being judged or told off. Maybe part of it was because you knew that he was what you would call a passerby – a person that you would meet once and never see again. For that, you had nothing to lose. And unlike last night, he turned out to be capable of sweet when he put in the effort. Even sweeter was the inviting scent when you entered your unit as you discovered the giant bouquet of pink roses that adorned the living room table like a centrepiece. On it was a note, written in sloppy handwriting and for some reason, you knew who sent it. Chanyeol must have had it delivered to your room while you were at the café and you could almost hear his voice as you read the message.

Tomorrow will be better. I promise. - PCY

And so you fell asleep with the visual memory of your favourite passerby’s smile, wrapping over you like a warm blanket. Only for tonight, you promised yourself. Tomorrow, you will leave the memory of meeting this wonderful person behind.

#chanyeol #chanyeol scenarios #park chanyeol #exo scenarios #exo #park chanyeol scenarios #exo fanfiction #kpop fanfiction #kpop scenarios

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porkchop-ao3 · 6 years ago

Text

Charlie Foxtrot: Part 1/7

I have been working on this for WEEKS, it was initially going to be a one shot smut fic, but Tailor Rick had other ideas and made it all about him, so. This is rather a long fic, I’ve split it into 7 parts, but I worked really hard on this and I poured so much into it, I really hope someone will read this and enjoy it. It’s quite angsty, but I think it reveals a lot about Tailor’s character, and I’m proud of it. This is probably my favourite thing I’ve written.

This is a fic involving Tailor (obviously) and one of the SEAL team Ricks; the bald one with the beard. It contains sex, but it’s not wildly descriptive like my usual smut, the focus is more on how their relationship changes over time. Thank you to @hoodoo12 for reading this and helping me out at multiple stages through this story!

I enjoyed characterising the SEAL team Rick, I haven’t seen him written about much so I had fun with it. A few headcanons formed as I was writing him, one of them being a certain accent, hehe. This fic is linked in with my usual OC universe, and the ‘reader’ from those fics, i.e. Tailor’s assistant, makes an appearance. As does Hairstylist Rick, one of Tailor’s special friends. I sincerely hope you enjoy this!

Queuing up at a coffee shop was not something Tailor did often. His assistant would normally do it for him, though she was spending a weekend with her boyfriend. This had already put him in a bad mood, but to make matters worse the coffee shop just happened to be at the Citadel, of all places. Though Tailor usually vowed never to consume anything produced at the Citadel, he was sure he would die without a coffee, and so there he was, standing with arms crossed as he waited to be served.

The hipster looking Rick working behind the counter finally turned to serve him. He wore his hair in a man-bun and had a rather impressive beard, and under the apron he was wearing Tailor could see one heck of a garishly patterned shirt. The barista stared at him for a moment expectantly, and Tailor tutted when he didn't get the polite greeting he had been waiting for.

“Good afternoon,” he said with a bite to his tone. “One black coffee please. W-with two shots of espresso and three sugars. Please.”

“Sugar's over there, you help yourself. What's your dimension code?” the barista replied, his expression not changing once. Tailor told him then the barista held his hand out to him. “Fifteen schmeckles.”

Tailor narrowed his eyes but handed him the money anyway. He was then ushered over to the side where other Ricks were waiting for their orders. Tailor put some distance between him and the others, not wanting to make eye contact and get stuck talking to one of them, heaven forbid. Not that Ricks were the most conversational of people, but there was a smiley looking guy with a lazy eye and a bowl cut looking his way and Tailor did not want to encourage him. He stood there with his eyes planted firmly on the Rick behind the counter preparing drinks. He liked to keep an eye on the people preparing his food, when given the chance.

It was a couple of minutes before he finally got his order and he marched over and took it from the barista. He shuffled over to where the sugar and napkins were and set to work stirring in three sachets of sugar one by one. He stared down into it and sighed as he watched the sugar dissolve. It'd been a long morning and he had been running on one cup of coffee. That was not good. He'd been at the Council of Ricks’ offices to discuss new robes. He'd been desperate to redesign their uniforms for years and was finally given the opportunity. It was bittersweet, however, the head of the Council, Riq IV, could be a bit of a dick and Tailor couldn't quite work out if they'd get along or not.

Tailor picked up his drink and turned around as he started closing the lid on it. He didn't even notice the body that was standing directly behind him, and walked straight into it. His instinct was to apologise and move on, he wasn't one for confrontation. That was until he registered the heat spreading across his chest, which he soon realised was his coffee. His fresh, black coffee. Black coffee. On his suit. His white shirt. His baby pink suit jacket. Baby pink. Black coffee. His jacket... Thousands of pounds worth of jacket... Black coffee.

“What on earth are you doing, you bloody idiot!? Don't you see me standing here? Why are you standing so fucking close? Get the fuck away from me, haven't you ever heard of personal space?! Look at me! Look at my fucking suit! Do you have any idea how much this costs you thick skulled, absolute bloody wanker!?” Words just erupted from him without control. He could sense everyone around him staring but all he could focus on was the dark stain all over his front. He was livid. It was beginning to hurt, the heat from the coffee, but he didn't care.

“Uhh–” the other Rick started.

“Look! Th-tha-that's never going to come out! I hope you have your fucking wallet with you because otherwise we're going to–” Tailor finally looked up at the man he was yelling at, and stalled. “We're going to- um, you'll- we'll have…” he mumbled, his eyes glazing over as he took in the solid wall of muscle at eye level, the dog tags hanging around his neck, then the stern expression of the bald headed Rick he'd just lost his shit at. He seemed to be a military Rick. Of course, who else would Tailor have just called a thick skulled, absolute bloody wanker?

The Rick quirked a brow at him, waiting patiently for him to continue. Tailor cleared his throat, turned and tossed the remainder of his coffee in the bin behind him, and then arranged his face into a more composed expression.

“It doesn't matter,” he said, his voice smaller than before. He forced the next words from his lips despite it going against every fiber of his being. “It's just a suit.”

The bald, ripped Rick gave Tailor an odd look, sizing him up and analysing him. He had a large yet well groomed beard – no moustache – and numerous piercings. There was a plug stretching each earlobe and a stud above his top lip; Tailor would've turned his nose up if he wasn't worried about pissing him off any more. He squirmed under the attention, wanting nothing else but to run away from the situation and hightail it back home. That wasn't going to happen, it seemed. The Rick wasn't moving out of his way.

Feeling a need to fill the silence, Tailor spoke. “I apologise for my language. I didn't mean to cause offense.”

The other Rick frowned for a few moments, and Tailor felt his pulse pounding in his skull, almost giving him a headache. Suddenly, however, Rick smiled, then chuckled.

“I've heard worse, and from more intimidating folk, too,” he finally spoke, his voice not at all like Tailor had expected. He had a southern drawl, softer around the edges than he'd come to expect from most Ricks. It was still deep and a little gravelly, but he sounded… friendly? Friendly and extremely kind on the ears. “I'm sorry about th-that suit of yours. What d’ I owe you?”

He was reaching into his pocket for his wallet, and Tailor could do no more than stare. He was half expecting a swift punch to the face considering how he'd yelled at him just moments ago, and he was just stunned he still had all his teeth. He was also stunned at how opening his mouth had made him about twice as attractive.

“Um, that's quite alright. N-not to worry. I know a lady who- maybe she can get the stain out.”

“I don't know, black coffee sure is a son of a bitch,” Rick frowned, looking down at the stain on Tailor's shirt.

He didn't seem to mind about the splatter up his own front, but he was just wearing an off white wife beater. One that showed off just how thick his arms were, how toned his muscles were. He saw the edges of tattoos peeking out from over his shoulders; they must've covered his back. Tailor swallowed hard and averted his eyes.

“I don't want your money. It's fine,” he murmured, adjusting his tie, as if that was going to do something to make him look better.

“At least let me take you back to mine, get you out of that suit.”

“I'm sorry?” Tailor balked, his face immediately heating up, his eyes watering at the sudden pressure of the blood rushing to his head.

Rick smirked, clearly amused.

“I've got some detergent back at my place, su-supposed to be real good. If we get that shirt and jacket washed fast we might be able to save it.”

“Oh! Oh right. Of course. Yes, that's probably for the best.” Tailor nodded, instantly regretting his reply. He'd been so relieved to have his lewd misunderstanding cleared up that he hadn't really been concentrating on his own response. But there was no going back now.

“It's just up the street from here. Two minute walk!” Rick smiled, a lopsided kind of smile that was incredibly endearing. Tailor winced.

“Actually, I–” his sentence fell short and he sighed. Rick had already turned and was heading for the door, Tailor had no choice but to just follow.

Rick's home really was just a short walk away in an apartment block. It was pretty average, Tailor thought, and he noticed quickly that the place was lived in. It wasn't a complete pigsty, but it was far from neat and tidy. Tailor started to wonder what he was getting himself into, but he found himself just rolling with it. He agreed when Rick offered to make him a cup of coffee, he wasn't a huge fan of that instant stuff but he wouldn't complain, he still needed some. He took a seat at the kitchen table as he waited, brushing away a collection of crumbs from in front of him.

“You wanna take off that shirt and jacket? I can- I'll toss it in the wash.”

“Oh, yes, b-but it must be a gentle cycle,” Tailor warned, slipping off his jacket. He cleared the pockets of their items, leaving them on the table.

“Gentle?”

“Yes. Perhaps you have a delicates setting?” Tailor questioned, handing the jacket off to him. He was looking back at him with a blank expression and Tailor held back a sigh. “Don't worry. Whatever you usually put it on will be fine, I suppose.”

“You wanna borrow a shirt or something?” Rick asked, looking down at Tailor's shirt again.

Tailor hadn't really thought about taking his shirt off in front of this guy until now, and he was suddenly very nervous. Why on earth had he accepted this damn invitation?

“Um… yes. I suppose I should. Thank you,” he finally replied after a pause that was far too long.

Rick nodded and left the room for a while. Tailor groaned quietly, brushing his hand backwards through his hair to tame non existent flyaways, then he loosened his floral tie. He unbuttoned his shirt and was shrugging it off just as Rick returned.

“I tried to find somethin’ that might be to your taste,” he said, holding out a button up shirt to him.

The thing was creased up to hell. It looked like it'd been sat at the bottom of a drawer for God knows how long, but Tailor appreciated the effort. He swapped with him, and dressed in the borrowed shirt. It swamped him, given Rick was a lot more bulky than Tailor, and he found himself heating up in the face again.

He felt like some chick dressing up in her boyfriend's dress shirts. He'd never worn anything so ill fitting.

After starting up the washing machine, Rick placed a cup of coffee down in front of Tailor as he finished up buttoning his shirt; he left the top few buttons open, his own tie hanging loose around his neck. It smelled musky and faintly of cigarettes, it didn't seem to have been worn for a while, and Tailor wondered if it’d even been washed since the last time Rick had worn it. Oddly enough, the thought stirred something in him and he crossed one leg over the other, clearing his throat as he took a sip of his drink to distract himself. He burned his tongue, but didn't react.

“How's the coffee?” Rick asked him, looking at the spot where Tailor was resting the mug against his lip, blowing into it to help cool it.

“It’s fine, thank you. Coffee's coffee,” he said. “It's perhaps the one thing I'm not particularly picky about.”

“Huh? Is that so?” he replied, and Tailor caught the beginnings of a smirk as he lifted his own cup.

Tailor raised a brow, ready to question him, but decided to change the subject.

“You're in the military,” he stated. He'd noticed a few things laying around the apartment, photographs of him in uniform, with other Ricks in matching clothes. The dog tags around his neck were a giveaway too.

“SEAL team.” Rick replied. There was nothing arrogant about the way he said it, Tailor was surprised at how matter-of-fact he was.

“Well, then I feel as though I owe you an apology,” Tailor forced himself to say, lifting his head, holding his chin high.

Rick frowned. “What for?”

“For lashing out at you, calling you a thick skulled wanker, and so on.”

“You already apologised for that,” Rick pointed out, cupping his hands around the mug of coffee.

“Yes, well, I wanted to make sure there were no hard feelings.”

“Sir, I invited you into my home, washed your clothes and gave you some of my coffee. Does it look like there's hard feelings? Don't worry about it. Water off a duck’s back.”

“I meant no disrespect, if I'd have known who you were I'd never have dreamed about speaking to you in such a way,” Tailor admitted, avoiding eye contact. His face felt awfully hot.

“B-but if I was just some other Rick, some barista or store assistant, you'd have stood by it all?” Rick snorted, cocking a brow and smirking.

“Of course,” Tailor said, taking a sip of coffee. Rick chuckled, shaking his head.

“Fair enough. So what do you do with yourself? You look pretty fancy in that suit, must be doing well.” He jabbed a thumb in the direction of the washing machine.

“That suit is one of mine. I mean, I made it. I-I-I'm a tailor, a dressmaker, a designer.”

“Oh! I ain't seen you around the Citadel before.”

“That's because I don't work here. I was just meeting with the Council today, I'm working on some designs for them,” Tailor said nonchalantly, not even noticing the way the other Rick's eyes widened.

“You work for the damn Council? Holy shit, you are doing well.”

“The Council? I suppose it's a pretty high profile job. Though, I've worked for royalty back in my home dimension, so it's rather a step down.”

“You design the crown jewels or something?” Rick snorted. “I've never really heard of a British Rick. I know they're out there but you're the first I've met.”

“And you're the first Rick I've met with that lovely southern drawl,” Tailor replied, his tone lowering into a flirtatious one unintentionally. The other Rick blinked at him, his expression unchanging. Tailor quickly moved on, dropping his gaze to the mug. “I've made multiple dresses for her majesty the Queen, wonderful lady, absolute pleasure to work for. I've worked on suits for Prince Harry and William. Their wives have both worn dresses by me. Actually, I've been told to expect a call about a special commission for the Duchess of Cambridge.”

“Wow. You're a real hot shot, huh?”

“Well, I've worked hard to make a name for myself.”

“I believe that,” Rick nodded, his gaze lingering on Tailor for a few moments before he looked away. The two fell into silence for a while as they drank their coffee.

TBC...

#rick and morty #fanfiction #rickcest #tailor rick #seal team rick #rick sanchez #council of ricks #hairstylist rick

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