#swipe a card between there and I’ll hear “transaction completed

[frostedfaves]

Naive (1)

Masterlist

Pairing: demon!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: Of all the humans Wanda has met, you’re suddenly her favorite.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, dark!fic, demon things™️ (be warned that this shit will get much darker in the future), subtle hand kink (don’t @ me)

A/N: special shoutout to the anon that inspired this fic series, I hope you enjoy this weird combo of AOU x IW Wanda. also if you have any previous knowledge of demons, throw it out the window before you read this because I guarantee that things will not add up here lmao

-

Wanda’s favorite thing about interacting with humans is her effect on them.

Walking through a crowd is fine. She’ll brush a few shoulders and rattle a few unsuspecting adults, flash solid black eyes at kids that either stare or scream. It’s temporary and brings a bit of fun to an otherwise dull day.

The real joy comes from direct contact. Wanda travels miles away from her apartment building, choosing different stores, restaurants and cafés just to keep things interesting. A new cashier each time. She’ll have an air of friendliness about her that isn’t exactly fake; she finds most humans to be charming, despite their fragile minds.

“Will that be all?” Roy--according to his name tag--asks with a grin and Wanda nods in response. “Okay, your total is $21.14. You can just swipe or insert your card in the machine there.”

Wanda inserts her card carefully, complimenting the decor as she waits for the transaction to be completed. After returning it to her wallet, she flashes a soft smile at Roy as he hands her the receipt, purposefully brushing her fingers with his. As his skin makes contact with one of her rings, she notices the goosebumps rising along his arm and hears his breathing pattern change.

“Roy? Everything alright?”

She hears the concerned voice of a coworker as she makes her way to a table to wait for her meal, already seated by the time Roy coughs in an effort to collect himself.

“Yeah, just feeling off I guess. I’ll be fine.”

A chuckle falls from her lips as she watches the poor cashier attempt to return to his previous state of mind, finding the urge to smile and wave when his eyes cut over to her. His voice trembles when he calls her name and he stands as far away as possible when she approaches the counter to grab her order.

“Thanks for everything, Roy.”

Sensing that he’s startled enough without it, she keeps her other tricks hidden in her sleeves and simply walks away, holding her laughter until the doors close behind her. A good meal with a side of human interaction, her absolute favorite.

-

The next day brings Wanda to a bookstore around lunchtime. She takes a minute to browse the aisles, taking an exceptionally long time lingering in the section harboring books on angels and demons. The stereotypes amuse more than upset her like they used to in the beginning.

“Is there anything I can help you with?”

Wanda turns to make eye contact with the employee behind her, about to ask a question for the fun of it when a laugh catches her attention. Her gaze redirects to the café counter straight ahead, and a warm feeling washes over her when she hears the laugh again.

You’re genuinely entertained by the elderly woman purchasing a bagel with exact change, and Wanda manages to catch the end of the conversation as she draws near.

“Safe to say, I haven’t worn the blouse since that day.” She bids you farewell with her bagel and receipt in hand, eyes twinkling as she observes Wanda on her way past. “You have such bright and beautiful hair, dear.”

“Thank you,” Wanda responds with sincerity, attention locked on you while approaching the counter. “Hi.”

“Hey,” you greet her with a voice much calmer than the one you use with most of your other customers. “What can I get you today?”

You watch the orange haired woman turn her head to study the items behind the glass, taking the time to do your own inspection. You admire the dark red jacket that covers most of her torso, gaze lingering on the multiple rings hugging her fingers that seem to be smoothing nonexistent wrinkles in her dress, almost in a nervous fashion. It brought you a bit of comfort, assuming that she was affected in the same way.

“What do you recommend?”

“Oh, well…” You walk over to open the glass case from your side of the counter, naming each item as you grab it. “I usually have this pretzel that’s stuffed with spinach and cheese and this brownie. I can heat both of them for you, if you’d like.”

“I would love that,” Wanda responds in a grateful tone, placing a bottle of water on the counter after taking it from the fridge. “And I’ll also have one of these incredibly overpriced waters.”

You begin her order with a laugh, and she watches you ring everything up with the speed and expertise of a seasoned employee, wondering how she’d gone this long without running into you. The total price is brought to the digital screen just before her card is inserted, and she takes the time to quickly slip her rings into her pockets while you’re taking the pretzel and brownie over to the miniature oven. The last thing she wants to do is scramble your brain before she even gets the chance to explore it.

“Here’s your receipt,” you announce while giving Wanda the slip of paper, your eyes lingering on her hand for a moment before looking at her again. “Your food should be ready soon.”

“Okay, thank you…” Her sentence trails off as she searches for your name, the letters rolling off her tongue with ease when she finally locates it on the apron covering your chest.

“You’re welcome…” You trail off in the same fashion and she catches on quickly.

“Wanda.”

“You’re welcome, Wanda,” you repeat as you hand her the water bottle before she can walk away.

Less than two minutes later, you approach the table she’s taken over with two small ceramic plates and a sheepish grin.

“I should’ve asked if you were going to stay a while, but I can grab some bags if you need to go.”

Wanda shakes her head with a laugh as she takes them from you, startling you when she doesn’t react to the excessive heat radiating from the dishes.

“This is perfect.”

She takes her time with eating, and your attention is drawn to her between customers, grateful that she’s too busy with her phone to notice your stares. On the other hand, Wanda’s mind is filled with thoughts of you. What you look like when you think she can’t see you glancing over, what you smelled like when you were close. The nerves, the kindness, the desire to learn her name despite her being just another customer to you. She knows that you noticed her missing rings, but she’s already prepared with a cover story. A two minute conversation has her dying to pick your brain more, learn your habits and become more familiar with your body, beyond a simple brush of your fingertips. She already wants you to herself, just the way you came, without her interference for now; that’ll come later.

A good meal with a side of human interaction, her absolute favorite.

-

Despite Wanda leaving an hour before your shift ended, she lingers in your thoughts on the bus ride and walk home. You find yourself recalling her kind smile, fidgeting fingers and the scent of her perfume when she passed you on her way out, and you’re so deep in your memories that you end up colliding with your apartment door.

“That’s not going to get you inside any faster, dear.”

Your cheeks burn as you face Ruth for the second time today, the first time being earlier when you sold her a bagel.

“I know, Ruthie,” you respond sheepishly as you pull your keys from your pocket. “Is everything okay? You’re usually in bed watching a cowboy show by now.”

“I’ve been waiting for you to come home so I could talk to you.” She checks to see if the hallway is empty before opening her door and waving you over. “Come on, quickly.”

You scurry into the apartment behind her, taking in the scene before you while she locks the door. Having visited her before, you know she keeps the television at a higher volume, but it seems louder than normal.

“I know I might seem like I’ve lost my marbles, but I wanted to warn you about that woman you saw today....The one with the bright hair.”

“You mean Wanda?” you question, eyes widening when she nods. “Warn me about what?”

“There’s something off about that Wanda, if that even is her real name.” She snatches her arm out of her robe and brings it closer for you to see. “I’ve had these chills since I brushed against her earlier. Something’s not right with her. How do you even know her name? I’ve never seen her before.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” you assure her as you help her slip her arm back in the sleeve. “I only know her name because we were having a friendly conversation and she used mine. I was just being polite to someone I’ll probably never even see again.”

“Just be careful,” she pleads as you head toward her door again, and you offer your best attempt at a relaxed smile.

“I’ll be fine, Ruthie. Get some rest, okay?”

You hear her lock the door behind you as you make your way back to your own apartment, rushing through the process of unlocking the door and securing it once you’re inside. As much as you don’t want to let Ruth get you worked up over a stranger, you can’t help thinking about the odd little things you noticed earlier. 

It isn’t unusual for someone to linger after buying food or drinks from your counter, whether they have homework or even just a phone to keep them busy. Wanda seemed to be waiting for someone the entire time, and you remember hoping that she wasn’t on a date, despite not wanting her to be stood up. But she simply slid her phone in her pocket and departed with a friendly wave as if nothing had happened.

You especially remember her waving at you with those ringless fingers, and wondering silently where the intricate jewelry had disappeared to. Obviously you just assumed that the rings were tucked away on her person and not dumped in the trash, but she doesn’t seem like the type of person to give up on her accessories in the middle of the day. Part of you--a part that you didn’t dare to address--wondered if she’d emptied her hands to send you a subtle sign. No, that can’t possibly be it.

Sleeping proves to be difficult with so many unanswered questions floating about, but you eventually give into the act. A few hours later, you peel open your eyes when you think you hear something in the room. The digital clock that sits on your bedside and serves as an alarm and occasional radio reads 3:34am, and you’re just about to close your eyes again when you hear another sound. You raise your head to turn toward your closet, and a scream is trapped in your throat as you catch sight of a figure in the shadows.

The next time you wake, the sun is out and your alarm is blaring on the nightstand beside you. Your gaze flickers over to the closet as you reach out to silence it, your heartbeat dropping slightly when you don’t see anything other than clothes. Deciding that you must’ve been dreaming, you shake away the fearful thoughts and head to the bathroom to start getting ready for another day of work.

The only thing you haven’t decided on yet is whether you want to see Wanda again.

[paterson-blue]

Summary: Sackler's working on his impulse control. No, really--he is, he swears. It's just a lot harder when it comes to you.

Word Count: 8,432

Warnings: fem!AFAB!reader, angst with a happy ending, fluff, sexual tension, friends to lovers (but moves into established relationship), domestic shit, the regularly scheduled Sackler chaos, Sackler is soft, an anxious boy; a nervous boy, excessive gatorade drinking (it's his brand), classic Sackler banter, hair braiding, teasing, handjobs, fingering (f receiving), oral sex (f receiving), slight nose action, unprotected PIV sex (no chance of pregnancy), cock warming, praise kink, breeding kink (if you squint) — let me know if I need to add anything else!

Prefer AO3? I gotcha!

You’d entered his life slowly, inch by inch, sneaking into his consciousness until suddenly you were all he thought about. When he’d decided to wave at you across the aisle of the bodega all those months ago he’d had no idea of what the future would hold. All he knew was that he’d been seeing you there every day like clockwork; same time, same aisle.

He always grabbed a red Gatorade and you always grabbed some sort of sugary drink of your own. Occasionally the two of you seemed to move in sync, opening the fridge, reaching up, grabbing your item, and slamming the door all in one motion together. Adam thought it was kinda funny, two strangers' lives lining up in such a way, being part of each other’s daily routine. So one day he waves, a goofy grin on his face as he points to his signature bottle of red goodness.

You blink at him in surprise before almost shyly smiling back, your eyes bright, and oh—Adam’s stomach does a dangerous little flip-flop.

He waves at you for two weeks straight until it’s not enough anymore. He comes into the bodega one day determined to talk to you but with no concrete plan of how to do it. He’s a little early in his excitement, and he finds himself having to aimlessly browse the little store like a fuckin’ idiot before the familiar bell dings and he sees you come through the door. He half-trips over to the drink aisle, trying not to come across like he’s following you around, even though he definitely is.

You’re studying the various beverages in the fridge, mouth scrunched up as you consider them. He only allows himself a moment to admire you, not wanting you to catch him staring. He steps closer, boots thudding on the floor, making you look up at him. Now’s your chance, Sackler, a voice echoes in his head.

“What’s today’s flavor?” he hears himself say, and he feels relief wash over him when you give him that pretty smile.

“Oh, I’m not sure.” You sigh, settling your hands on your hips. “Maybe just water.”

“What?! Bullshit! You never get water!” Oh, so he’s just gonna double down on being a creep, huh? Saying he knows exactly what you get every day? Adam wants to smack the palm of his hand against his forehead.

But then you’re letting out a laugh, shaking your head at him. “Well maybe sometimes I like to change things up. We can’t all stick to red gatorade every damn day.”

Your comeback makes Adam feel half-giddy, both from the easy banter and from the acknowledgement that you’ve been paying just as much attention to him as he has to you.

“Well, I’ll have you know that red flavored Gatorade has special health benefits that others just don’t.” He states, leaning against the cool glass of the fridge. You’ve gone back to browsing, but you keep shooting him amused little looks; his ego crows at your attention.

“Is that so?” you ask, humoring him as you indeed select a bottle of water from the bottom shelf.

He’s nodding when you straighten back up, and points accusingly at the bottle of water. “Can’t believe you’re going for the boring shit.”

“Well,” you shrug, holding the bottle to your chest, “I’m feeling pretty boring today. But I dunno, tomorrow might be different. You’ll just have to wait and see.”

She doesn’t mean anything, Adam tries to tell himself. The two of you had been there together every day for the past two months. It’s not abnormal for you to assume he’ll show up again the next day. But still, your words, the between-the-lines invitation for him to see you again, makes his heart leap.

“I guess I will,” he responds firmly before grabbing his regular gatorade from the shelf. This time the two of you walk up to the register together, and before Adam can stop himself he’s digging into his jeans pocket, tugging out a couple crumpled bills. “Hey kid, lemme pay for that.”

You hesitate, but nod, chirping out a “thank you” in that sweet voice of yours. Adam slaps down the money, throwing in a pack of sunflower seeds along with the drinks. If it’s just to make the transaction last two seconds longer—to make him standing there with you two seconds longer—then he’ll keep it to himself. Soon, you’ve got your water and you're waving a goodbye as you step out of the store and onto the busy sidewalk.

Adam follows at a distance; watches you walk away, your purse slung over your shoulder, water already open and pressed to your lips. He watches until you disappear into the crowd, and then he’s sighing, looking down at his feet. It’s not until he’s trudging back home that he realizes he never even got your fuckin’ name.

_______________________________________

It’s another day before he gets your name. A week before the two of you leave together, leaning against the wall outside and sipping your respective drinks; two before he’s asking for your number. For some reason, you actually give it to him.

He’s nervous to text you first, which is unlike him. Sure, in the past he would get a little anxious, not wanting to make a complete fool out of himself, but he still went through with it. But it takes him an entire day to shoot you a message, asking if you wanted to go sit in the nearby park after the bodega stop. Your answer is an immediate yes, and suddenly Adam is eying the hole in the collar of his green t-shirt, wondering if he should change.

It’s not a date. The bodega isn’t a date, the park isn’t a date—the walks and lunches, coffee shops and movie nights in the weeks following aren’t dates either. So what if he cleaned the absolute shit out of his apartment before you came over for dinner? So what if he wore his nice jeans and black dress shirt, sleeves all rolled up to show off his forearms? So fuckin’ what?

It’s not a date.

It’s not a date until, a month into all your not-date’s, you’re standing at the sink with him as the two of you tag-team-clean the dishes. He’s washing, you’re drying, and there’s an easy rhythm flowing until a soapy plate slips from your grasp as he hands it to you. The dish smacks into the water-filled sink, creating a splash that soaks the both of you. You inhale a loud gasp, laughter already in your voice.

He seems to get the brunt of it, the front of his green plaid shirt darkening as warm, sudsy water bathes the fabric. His shoulders hunch up in surprise, and you’re giggling, covering your mouth with your hand. “Shit, I’m so sorry, that was an accident I swear.”

“Oh I call bullshit,” he growls, a grin spreading over his face. He yanks his arms up high, wriggling his fingers over your head so that water and suds drip onto you. “Pay back!” He crows, stalking towards you. You can easily duck under his arm to sideswipe him, to escape his grasp, but you don’t.

Instead, you swat at him with the dish towel in your hands, laughing as you shuffle backwards. “You better fuckin’ not, Sackler! I’ll scream!” You make idle threats at him but he doesn’t listen. He steps forward, forward, forward, hands dripping water all over your hair and shoulders as you shriek.

“I’mmmmm gonna getcha!” he sing-songs, jumping towards you, the wood floor creaking under his big feet. He’s got you cornered now, your back against the wall—ha! His arms swoop down in an attempt to engulf you, aiming to press his wet hands and shirtfront against you, but your hands fly out to grasp his wrists to halt him.

“I just bought this shirt!”

“It’s soapy water, it’s just gonna get more clean!”

“Adam!” You laugh, your voice betraying a tone of fond exasperation. And oh, you’re all smiley and breathless, eyes shining up at him—you’re so fuckin’ pretty. Most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen, lighting up his kitchen and his heart and his whole fuckin’ life with the brightest, warmest sunshine he’s ever felt. He stares at you, admiring you freely, not able to help it. You don’t seem to mind; you’re looking straight back at him, thumbs rubbing little circles on his wrists where water was trickling down to his forearms.

Adam’s never really been one for impulse control. That shit’s just never appealed to him. What was the point? If you’re gonna do something, just fuckin’ do it—get it out there in the open and see what happens. Yeah, sometimes things don’t go well, or—okay, they go really fuckin’ bad—but sometimes things turn out for the better! And the sweet feeling of elation whenever his bet, whenever trusting his gut, pays off? It was worth the risk.

So he lunges down, capturing your face in his wet palms as he presses his lips to yours. And shit, by some strange miraculous twist of fate you’re actually kissing him back. It makes him press forward, shoulders scrunched up and back curved towards you, angling himself for you to take. He thinks he could die happy, finally having your mouth against his, finally holding you the way he’s needed since the first fuckin’ day he saw you.

You sigh into his mouth and he gobbles it up greedily, sucking at your bottom lip, full on moaning when your tongue swipes against his cupid’s bow. When you insist on pulling away to get some air he stays close to share your breath, brushing his nose against yours. You hum out a pleased little noise and he wants to melt into the floor. He thinks about doing it—about sinking to his knees and pressing his face into your stomach, holding you tight, tight, tight.

He thinks he might have, if you hadn’t reached up to card your fingers through his hair, fingertips massaging deliciously at his scalp. He presses a needy little kiss to the corner of your mouth; your lips quirk upwards at his touch. When you break the silence it’s in a hushed tone, your hands sliding over his biceps. “That was nice.”

Adam grins, rubbing the tip of his nose over your cheekbone just because he can. “I can do better,” he promises cheekily, “Just gotta let me show you.”

You laugh, saying oh really? in a way that has him preening.

“Hell yeah. I’m a very well rounded individual.” He finally straightens back up, watching you with hopeful eyes, painfully shoving back the urge to ask you if you wanted to kiss him again.

“… I’ve got work tomorrow,” you finally say, and Adam nods, because he knows you do. You took your shit seriously. But oh, you’re reaching for his hand, and the relief he feels when you touch him is immediate. “But I'm free tomorrow night,” you tell him, your own eyes bright, waiting for him to take your offering—and there’s no way in hell he’s going to pass it up.

“Well good, because we’re having dinner. That back alley Thai place. And then I’ll take you out to that gross ice cream shop down the street you like so fuckin’ much.”

You nod, bouncing on your toes a little, and it’s so goddamn cute that Adam almost dips down to kiss you again. The most he lets himself do is rub the back of your hand with his thumb, watching you intently. “And I’m fuckin’ paying, don’t even think about bringing any money.”

You offer him a grin. “Alright. It’s a date.”

Adam nods, so fast he thinks he probably looks unhinged, but hey—that’s nothing new. “You bet your ass it’s a date, kid.”

An actual date. With you. It only took three months.

_______________________________________

So yeah. Impulse control.

Never been Adam’s thing.

It’s not that he doesn’t think about his actions. Okay, well, sure, sometimes he doesn’t. Sometimes he just goes with his gut and throws caution to the wind, like when he’d kissed you. He’d just known it was what he should do, and so he did it. He likes to think most of his impulsive decisions are perfectly logical and sound, even the ones that don’t work out. It’s not his fault if other people don’t always agree with what he does. This is how he’s lived his life all these years, and it’s worked out more often than not. Why change something that isn’t broken, or whatever the saying is.

Except. He meets you. And fuck, suddenly he’s overthinking every little urge, every little snap judgement—tight-rope walking the thread of fate. He’s on edge for the best of reasons; you’re the most wonderful thing he thinks has ever fuckin’ happened to him and there’s no goddamn way he’s going to jeopardize what the two of you have. He has to do this right, has to do things properly. He’s going to date the absolute shit outta you and there’s nothing you can do about it.

He likes it, really—hopping each little stepping stone that leads to more of you. Taking things slower than he has in ages, maybe ever. He knows, in the back of his mind, that if he flew into you at his usual gale force chaos, you’d accept him all the same. Because you’re good. You’re soft and sweet, and have turned his life into something golden and warm.

But you deserve more than his chaos. You were so gentle and vulnerable with him, and Adam—he wants to be the same way with you. For you. So he grapples with his impulses, shoving them down when they rear their ugly heads. He’s not gonna fuck this up, no matter how much his brain tries. And oh, does it try.

_______________________________________

For example, he almost tells you he loves you not two weeks into the course of dating you.

It’s not his fault, honest—or that’s what he tells himself. His feelings just like to…. overwhelm him. Endlessly.

See, he’d had a show—a play; one he’d been working on since before he’d waved at you in the bodega those months ago. You knew about it, sure. He’d talked about it (ranted about it) plenty of times. You always listened even if you had no clue what he was going on about, always gave him whatever he needed—whether that was being alone, or extra rehearsal time, or allowing him to flop into your couch and scream into the pillows.

Still, he hadn’t invited you to the opening night. Or any nights, actually. He was too nervous, as much as he hated to admit it—mostly about fucking things up if you were there. Honestly, the thought of you sitting, watching him, made his insides all… wriggly. And even if it was the good kind of wriggly, he’d be too hyper-aware of it, too distracted by it.

He feels guilty even if you don’t seem upset. You have brunch with him—yeah, he was doing fuckin’ brunch now. That shit was good—and then give him a goodbye kiss, telling him to “break a leg.” It makes him smile, and he insists on a couple more kisses, just for luck. And then he’s off to the final rehearsal before opening.

It goes off without a hitch, and Adam’s beyond elated—and relieved, and proud. As he scrubs off his sweat and makeup backstage, he can’t help but wish he had someone there to share his pride with. But he doesn’t have time to get into his head; there’s stupid fuckin’ rich people to schmooze outside, and the director had told him under no uncertain terms would he be in attendance.

Adam yanks on his tie as he makes his way through the theater’s halls towards the ballroom, not looking forward to the boring conversation and unnecessarily tiny food he had ahead of him. He tries to sneak his way through the crowded lobby area but it’s kind of difficult to be discreet with his sheer size—something that shouldn’t surprise him by now and yet does every single time. He forces out gentle smiles and humble “thank you’s” at the praise his performance receives, attempting to make his long legs work double time.

But then he spots something in his periphery. He’s not even sure what it is at first, really--just that it means something to him. It’s important. A flash of fabric as someone exits the large revolving doors, and there it is, that nagging in his head, that impulse. He veers off course without even thinking about it; fuck the schmoozing. Following that flutter of fabric, he shoves his way through the door and people, stumbling out onto the sidewalk. His dark eyes scan the busy street before landing on what his subconscious had been so attracted to.

You.

It stuns him at first, shocks him to silence--and not much can do that, if he’s being honest. You were here. Had you been here the whole time? Did you watch the whole thing? Were you just gonna leave? Adam thinks all these things at once, his mind a cacophony of noise, and suddenly he’s bellowing your name over the bustle of the crowd. He watches you jump, acknowledges the head turns he’s getting--he doesn’t give a fuck. You’re turning to look at him and he’s all but bounding over, zeroed in on you. You looked so goddamn gorgeous, the lights of the city casting multicolored glows over your skin.

“You’re here.” He says when he gets close enough, gaze bouncing all over you, not able to keep to one spot.

You give him a sheepish look, extending him just half a smile. “I… Yeah, I’m sorry. I wanted to come. I know you didn’t ask me to, but this show is so important to you and I--” You let out a small laugh, “--I wanted to support you, even if it was a secret?”

Adam’s chest fills with warmth, and his voice is noticeably quieter when he speaks again. “And you were just gonna leave without saying goodbye? What the fuck, kid?”

You shrug, but in a bashful way, not in a way where you’re blowing off his question. “Well, it wasn’t about me, you know? I wanted to be here for you, but until you were ready for me to be here, be here… I wasn’t wanting to, I don’t know--force your hand, or anything.”

And shit, if that doesn’t give Adam pause. He doesn’t think he’s ever had someone do something like this for him--support him without wanting something in return, without wanting recognition for their ‘good deed.’ You were giving him yourself even when he wasn’t around to acknowledge it or thank you for it. The words almost slip out of his mouth right then and there. I love you. It would be so simple.

They’re on the tip of his tongue, ready to tumble out in the open area between the two of you at a moment’s notice; he does the only thing he can think of to stop it from happening. He lunges forward, half yanking you to him as he slams his mouth down onto yours. It's… not as gentle as he intends, but he’s desperate, because the words are already leaving his lips in a muffled jumble. He’s kissing you on the crowded sidewalk like he’s fuckin’ starving for it, like he can’t breathe without it. Maybe he can’t. He sure isn’t stopping to find out.

“Adam--” you murmur into his mouth, and he grunts at you in response, which earns him a laugh. Your hands slip over his dress shirt, underneath his suit jacket, and he leans into your touch. You pull away from his lips, but press lingering kisses to his jaw, and Adam thinks maybe it’s an okay compromise. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close; says the only (other) thing he can think of--that he knows he has to get off his chest.

“I don’t wanna fuckin’ date anyone else. Don’t wanna kiss anyone else. Just you.” He makes sure to look at you when he says it, not caring how intense he comes across. If he can’t say that he loves you outright, he’ll do it in every other little way he can. “I wanna do boyfriend shit for you. Like—like make you canned soup when you’re sick and—and text you whenever I see a fuckin’ tree that reminds me of you.”

You smile up at him in that way that makes him feel ridiculously small and a million feet tall all at once. “Boyfriend shit, huh? Does that mean I need to start thinking of girlfriend shit to do?”

Adam nods briskly, but then pauses, his hands sliding up and down your back. “Only if you want to.” He tries to school his tone into something soft and neutral, trying to protect himself in case you say no.

But then you’re relaxing into his chest, resting your head over his thrumming heart. “I want to.”

He’s glad you can’t see his grin, and he holds you tighter to him, hoping you wont notice the way he’s literally fuckin’ vibrating with happiness. He wants to shout, wants to yell out at everyone passing by on the street. Hear that, everyone?! She’s my fuckin’ girlfriend now! Mine!! Ha!

“Do you wanna come back inside with me?” He asks instead, trailing his fingertips up and down your arm. “I have to go suck up to a bunch’a idiots so they’ll give the director some money. They might be willing to give more if I bring along some hot eye candy.”

You snort, pulling away from him; his gaze flits over your face, taking in your pleased smile and sparkling eyes. You were happy. He made you happy. It’s all he ever wants, really. You agree to coming with him, and he gives you his arm to hold onto as he escorts you back into the building, head held high with pride.

_______________________________________

Of course, it just makes things harder.

He’s swallowing down “I love you’s” left and fuckin’ right: when you pick him up from an audition and hand him a red gatorade. When you remember his lunch order from the café down the street. When you laugh at something dumb he’s said—a joke he knows isn’t that funny.

When, alternatively, you say Sackler in that exasperated-yet-fond tone whenever he’s said something annoying. When the two of you sit quietly in the living room together, each doing work, comfortable in the silence. When you pass behind him while he’s cooking and brush a gentle hand against his back, casual as can be.

He swallows the words down the first time he stays over at your place. It’d been an accident; he’d fallen asleep on the couch after getting back from an out-of-state visit to see his niece. He’d woken up in the morning to the smell of coffee, finding himself tucked under blankets. You’d come over when you saw that he was awake; brushed his hair out of his bleary eyes, said- “Good morning, sleepy head.”

He starts staying over a lot more after that, in your bed instead of the couch. Each time he wakes up next to you, wrapped around you, one of you half on top of the other—his chest fuckin’ aches. And still, his brain tells him to keep his thoughts to himself, to hold his feelings in his chest until the right moment. What’s the right moment? He asks himself. He never receives an answer.

It’s a torture he’s never experienced before and he doesn’t know what to fuckin’ do with himself. The first time you climb into his lap, tugging his jeans open, wrapping your perfect hands around his cock--all he can do is stare up at you, plush mouth hanging open, barely daring to breathe much less let the usual filth fall from his lips.

Because holy fuck, you’re so fuckin’ gorgeous, so perfect for him, and he’s pretty sure if he tries to say a single thing he’s going to let it slip. So he just yanks you close, biting at your lips, letting you swallow down his grunts and groans. He touches you everywhere--tries to let his hands do the talking for him.

He thinks he should probably tone down just how fervently he’s staring at you as he presses his thick fingers deep inside your pussy, but he has to see, has to know he’s making you feel good. “Tell me.” He manages to say, voice hoarse as he glances down to see your sticky wetness on his fingers before he pushes them back in, thumbing at your clit as he does so. “Tell me how it feels.”

You’re quiet but from your whimpers and whines, and Adam almost adds on a desperate please before you’re suddenly speaking, your words more of a babble as he works you. “F-Feels good, Adam, baby, feels so full. Can--can you--a little faster?”

A little faster? He can do that. He speeds up the motion on your clit, curling his fingers against that special spongy area inside as he pounds them in and out of you, brown eyes nearing black as he stares you down. “Like this?” he growls out, and instead of answering with words you let out a squeal, your hips jerking against him as your eyes roll back in your head.

Adam grins, breathless and feral. “Yeah. Like that, huh? Pretty girl.” The feeling of you cumming on three of his big fingers is enough to drag a long moan out of his chest; you’re so fuckin’ beautiful. “That’s it, doll, ride my fingers—good girl, so fuckin’ needy for me.”

You’re all clingy afterwards, clutching at him; he clutches right back, pressing his face into your shoulder, listening to you breathe. I love you, he thinks. I fuckin’ love you.

When you finally let him press his face between your legs one night, the words echo endlessly in his head. He’s lost in you, in the pressure of your thighs against his ears, your hands clutching at his shaggy hair, the way you clench so sweetly against his tongue. He rubs his face back and forth, smearing your slick all over himself greedily, sliding his nose up and down your clit. You let out an uninhibited, shuddering noise and he smirks, eagerly sucking at your folds.

He lets his eyes flick up to look at you, taking in the softness of your stomach, your heaving tits, the arch of your neck as you toss your head back against the pillows. He can’t see your face like this but he doesn’t fuckin’ care, not when he has the vision of you before him, your soft skin under his palms, the tangy sweetness of you in his mouth.

You cry out his name when you orgasm, your hips bucking against his face and Adam just goes along for the ride, using his hands to ease your frenetic movements. He spells it out with his tongue against your clit as you slowly come back down, blood rushing in his ears.

I - L - O - V - E - Y - O - U.

It’s a warm, early fall night when he fucks you for the first time, slow and deep, the bedroom windows cracked and letting in the nightly noise of the city. He doesn’t hear any of it--hears nothing but you and the sounds your bodies make together. There’s no rushing, no dirty words falling from his lips--there’ll be more than enough time for that later. Right now was about the slick slide of his cock in you, his eyes trained on yours, all wide like he’s surprised by this--shocked that any of its happening. In a way, he is.

Adam reaches out to settle a giant palm on your cheek, holding you, rubbing his nose against yours as he rolls his hips, muscles flexing under his skin as his back arches. He wants closer to you--closer, closer, and closer still--so he shuffles up the bed. It's a little awkward, but he doesn’t care, just as long as he can get deeper. You’ve got your knees hugging his hips, hands grabbing at his shoulder blades, making the prettiest noises in his ear. Adam, you say, and somehow his name has a thousand meanings in this moment. Adam, Adam, Adam.

Hearing it makes his toes curl up, makes him choke out a moan into your neck. “Fuck, I’m--I--” He fumbles for your face, breathing hot and heavy as he mouths over your skin to find your lips, kissing you sloppy to shut himself up. You’re clenching tight around his cock, a hand snuck down to rub quick little circles on your clit as you get close.

He doesn’t watch you as you cum this time, not when you’re pulling his own orgasm out of him, milking him for all he’s worth. He’s drenched in sweat, trembling as he sucks in shaky breaths. No thoughts fill his mind, head completely fuckin’ empty but for the pleasure humming through his veins.

You laugh afterwards, the two of you curled up together, Adam having collapsed to the side in an attempt not to crush you. He gives you a crooked grin of his own, sliding one big palm over your tummy, rubbing it as he slings a massive thigh over your legs. “Good?” He asks, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively as he starts to finger your belly button. You bat his hands away, calling him a fucking weirdo even as you lean in to capture his lips with yours. He nips at your bottom lip happily, smoothing his hand over your side, grabbing whatever part of you he can.

“Yeah,” he concedes, “-but I’m the fuckin’ weirdo you have custody of.” You smirk, and then you’re tugging on his shoulders, trying to haul him closer to you. You both need to shower--to clean up, probably drink some water, more than likely change the sheets. But maybe, he thinks to himself as he curls up half on top of you, nuzzling into your cheek--maybe it can wait for just a little longer.

____________________________________

“Fuckin’—ow!”

“Adam, stop moving around—“

“Well stop pulling my fuckin’ hair!”

You sigh at him, crossing your arms over your chest and giving him a hard look in the mirror. Adam pouts, slumping on the stool he was sitting on; he knew he was being whiny but his scalp was fuckin’ sensitive!

“You’re the one who asked me to braid your hair, remember?” You point out, grabbing another elastic from the countertop. “You practically begged me.”

“I didn’t beg.” He huffs, making a face at you. You don’t move, and he chances a look at his watch—fuck, he was gonna be late if this took too much longer. “… Fine, I’m sorry, I’ll sit still. Promise.” He chews on his bottom lip, giving you his best puppy dog eyes; he’s heard they were pretty effective. He’s pleased when you finally step forward, reaching up to comb through his hair again, pulling it out of his face and plaiting it across the top of his head.

He’s landed an actual honest-to-fuck movie role. A little indie film, sure, but it was still another stepping stone in his career. He was beyond excited, was putting his all into it—and, apparently, since his character was a boxer, that meant doing early morning training followed by choreography.

It was fine, really. He was enjoying it, and he liked learning a new sport, liked feeling the burn in different muscles of his body. It wasn’t that he was out of shape, it was just fuckin’ intense. Some days absolutely kicked his ass but he was always eager to come back for more. His trainer, Beth, said she liked that about him. It gave Adam a sense of pride about what he was doing.

It’s just that his damn hair kept getting in the way. It would get all sweaty, sticking all over his skin, flying into his eyes at the most inopportune moments. He’d tried to put it up into a ponytail but that hadn’t lasted long at all. Finally last night, after days of his complaining, you’d told him he just needed to braid it. I don’t know how to do that shit, he’d said, and you’d snorted, and here the two of you were.

“M’gonna be late.” He warns, leg bouncing up and down, jittery. He’d been on time—early, even—to every single session so far, and he didn’t want to break that streak.

“You won’t be late,” you murmur, twisting the tiny elastic around the end of the braid, making him wince just a little—he shuts his eyes against the sting. They have to be tight or they won’t hold, you’d said. Your hands sweep his remaining loose hair behind his ears, combing your fingers through it as you give your work a once over.

“I think they’re okay. They shouldn’t fall apart, at least. No more hair getting in your eyes.” You scratch your nails lightly at the back of his neck, a silent apology for the strain on his scalp, before moving to rub the shells of his ears between your thumbs and forefingers. Adam makes a small, pleased noise at the sensations, leaning back into your chest. He wants to stay here like this, with you, but he knows he can’t.

“How do I look?” He questions, eyes still closed. Your hands slide down the sides of his neck to rest on his shoulders, squeezing gently. He feels when you press a soft kiss to the crown of his head.

“Cute.” You tell him, and he can hear the smile in your voice. “Very pretty.”

He opens his eyes to meet your gaze in the mirror, wrinkling up his nose. “Cute?” You nod, and he shakes his head. “I can’t look fuckin’ cute while I’m boxing!” You just shrug, as if to say ‘well, what am I supposed to do about it?’, and then start putting up your supplies. Adam wants to keep on teasing you, but instead he hauls himself to standing, heading into the living room to grab his boots.

You trail in after him as he’s shoving them on his feet and perch on the edge of the couch to watch him. He speaks as he ties the laces, hyper-aware of the time even though the subway was only a couple minute walk from your apartment. “I shouldn’t be home late. Probably be back before you, even.”

Home. It only half registers that he says it, that he refers to your place as his. He doesn’t have time to worry about it now; besides, you only nod at him, like he hadn’t said anything out of the ordinary. He hops up, heavy feet stomping across the floor as goes to grab his trusty backpack. When he passes you on the way to the front door he drops a gentle kiss to your mouth.

“Thanks for my hair.” He says as he slips his arms through the straps of the bag and proceeds to pat his pockets, making sure he had everything he needed.

“Wait!” You’re crying out suddenly, making him freeze in place, looking at you with wide eyes. He watches you rush over to the fridge, digging in it for a moment or two; he gives his watch another nervous glance.

“Kid, what the hell…?” Adam scratches at the back of his neck, bouncing on his toes, ready to get out the door. When you shut the fridge, you’ve got two tupperware containers and a red gatorade in your hands; you hurry over to him, a small smile on your face.

“Here.” You tug him around with surprising strength, maneuvering him until you can unzip his backpack and put the plastic boxes and drink into the large pocket. “I made you lunch and some snacks. Don’t worry, it’s all protein. I know you always pack water but I wanted you to have more than that.”

Adam whips back around the second he’s allowed, his chest feeling warm and fluttery. He steals another kiss, one large hand on your jaw, nudging his nose against your cheek. Knowing he has to keep it short he pulls away, brushing his thumb over your chin as he does so. He opens his mouth to say something, but doesn’t really know how to express what your actions mean to him. When had you even packed that? Last night, while he was asleep?

You give him a gentle smile, nuzzling your face into his palm. “You better get going. You’ll be late.”

Adam exhales. You always gave him an escape route, and he always fuckin’ took it. “Right, yeah. Okay.” He steps back, grabbing his jacket from the coat rack. “Have a good day.” He yanks open the front door; when you speak again, your words are rushed, clearly not wanting to keep him.

“You too! Oh, can you pick up some bread on your way home?

“What? Oh, bread—yeah, sure—“ He’s stepping through the door, mind already focused on the day ahead. His hand finds the doorknob by muscle memory— “Sounds good, I can do that, love you!”—and the door slams shut behind him. He takes the stairs two at a time, his long strides getting him to the subway station sooner than he thought.

It’s not until he’s two stops down, staring blankly out the window as he stands in the crowded subway car, that he realizes what he’s done. Dread settles in his gut, heavy like lead, and his stomach twists. Fuck. Fuck! How could he have done something so stupid?

He wipes his palms on his gym shorts, feeling like they’re all clammy. He’d said ‘I love you’, tossed it to you like it was nothing. It wasn’t nothing! Fuck, what if you didn’t feel the same way? What if he’d ruined everything—pressured you somehow? Jesus Christ, well, guess it was time for him to leave the country. Or at least, move across town. New York was big enough to hide in, right?

He makes his way to the gym in a daze, his chest feeling all tight with anxiety. Getting into his routine is a struggle, and it frustrates him even more. Beth finally tells him to just have at one of the punching bags for a little bit, which does help loosen him up. Adam thinks it’s a tad ironic that imagining punching himself makes him feel better.

It’s not until he’s lumbering to the bodega to grab the bread you asked for, body aching and sticky with sweat, that he remembers you aren’t supposed to be home yet. He could sneak in undetected, plan an escape, or at least formulate some sort of explanation for his morning mistake. Though, he’s pretty sure saying “it was an accident, like when you were a kid and called your teacher ‘mom’” to his girlfriend wouldn’t bode well.

He knows he’s probably overreacting, but he’s never fuckin’ felt like this about someone before! He thought he’d known what love was; he thought he’d been in love in his past relationships. But he’s always said the words too fast, threw himself head first into the deep end. And yeah, he had loved them, in a way—cared about them, wanted them to care for him, too. But this? The all-encompassing affection and support you gave him? Your acceptance of him? He’s never had this before.

He’s never had someone want him fully as he is. And he wanted you the same way, loved every fuckin’ inch of you. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of you; wants you by his side, forever. He feels so much that it scares him. And the thought of you not feeling the same, of you not wanting what he did—of his confession of love being something one-sided.

Adam was fucking terrified.

But he can’t run away. He knows he can’t. He always did, and always came back when it was far too late—when people were done with him. He won’t do that with you.

So he takes the steps up to your apartment one by one, trudging slowly, the loaf of bread held to his chest as if it would protect him somehow. He fumbles with the key in the lock, finally pushing through the door and kicking it closed behind him. Looking up, he freezes, heart leaping into his throat. There you were, sat on the couch.

“… I thought you’d be at work,” he says after a moment, swallowing down the lump in his throat. He forces his body into movement, numbly going to put the bread on the countertop before setting down his backpack and removing the empty containers from his lunch. He can feel your eyes on him even if he isn’t looking at you; it makes him hunch his shoulders up to his ears.

“I had a meeting get canceled,” you inform him, voice holding on to a certain edge even while your tone is light. There’s silence, Adam trying to pretend like he’s busy in the kitchen even though it’s pretty obvious he isn’t. “Sackler.” There’s that stern-yet-fond tone he loves hearing so much, and it’s impossible for him to ignore you. He chances turning around, giving you what he hopes is a blank look.

“Will you please come here?” You’re practically batting your eyelashes at him at this point, and his brain is telling him that you’re definitely up to something. But then, you’re standing up, and he registers you’re wearing his favorite tiny tank top—and nothing else—and he finds his feet tripping over to you before he can help it.

“Fuck, kid, look at you.” He breathes, hands reaching out greedily to grab at your tits, the softness of your hips, your bare ass. You laugh, pushing him down onto the couch, pressing your hand between his legs as you lean in to kiss him. He groans, bucking his hips up, already impatient. Shit, it would be so easy to just slip down the waistband of his shorts, yank you down onto his cock—

“Thank you for getting the bread,” you murmur against his lips, leaning over him, one knee on the couch. Adam lets out a strangled sort of laugh.

“This is because I got bread?” he asks, incredulous. You nod, and he still doesn’t believe you, but fuck, fuck, fuck, you’re pulling his hand between your thighs and his fingers are delving on instinct. You’re wet. Wetter than you normally are starting out like this. He swallows hard as he finds your entrance, as three of his thick fingers slip in easily.

“Fuuuuuhhck,” he groans, dark eyes flicking up to meet your gaze, “-you dirty fuckin’ girl. Did you get yourself all ready for me? Too eager for my big cock to wait?” He can’t help the grin that spreads across his face as you whine, your hands tugging insistently at his shorts. He’s quick to help you pull them down along with his briefs, the both of you scrambling to be connected.

The second you slide down onto his cock he’s throwing his head back, thighs straining as he tries not to thrust into you with abandon. “Always so fuckin’ good,” he bites out, jaw clenched and voice all gravelly. His hands find your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he prepares to guide you at a punishing pace.

But then one of your hands is finding his face, angling him to look at you while your other hand balls itself in his shirt—and fuck, he hadn’t even had time to get his shirt off yet.

“Adam,” you say, all breathless, clenching around his cock in a way that has him grunting in response, almost fuckin’ shaking with need. You say his name again as you tug on his shirt, pulling the fabric up his chest. He reluctantly lets go of your hips in order to help get the offending garment off his torso, but then he’s right back to you, hands squeezing your ass.

“C’mon, baby, need you to move. Need to feel this tight fuckin’ pussy riding me.” His voice is little more than a growl, and he pulls you in to crash his lips to yours before you can respond. He’s overwhelmed, needy, previous anxiety forgotten—he forgot most things when you were so tight and warm and wet around him.

He plants his boot covered feet on the ground and thrusts upwards, a broken moan leaving his chest as you gasp into his mouth. You plant your hands on his shoulders and he thinks finally, you’re going to give him what he so badly needs. But then you’re pulling away from him, settling into his lap like you had all the time in the world, a little smirk on your face.

“We need to talk, Adam.”

He stares at you, gobsmacked; his cock does a little twitch inside of you, like it’s as confused as he is. “Talk? Now?” You nod, resolute, and Adam let’s out a long, hot breath through his nose. “What,” he bites out, palms kneading your ass; he thinks maybe his eye twitches, “—do we need to talk about?”

“Did you mean it this morning?” Your voice is all quiet as you run your fingertips over his french braids, then down to curl his loose hair behind his ears. “When you said you loved me?”

Adam’s mind—so singularly focused on fucking you—grinds to a complete halt. He gapes at you, unable to come up with any sort of excuse, any sort of witty counter to your question. It’s then that he realizes what you’ve done, you little fuckin’ minx—you’ve weaponized sex against him!

You fuckin’ knew he wouldn’t be able to think like this. Maybe he should be mad, but he knows--he knows this is exactly what he needs. So he closes his mouth, swallowing hard and sliding his hands from your ass to the small of your back, holding you close.

“Yes.” It’s shaky, falling from his lips. He tries to make his voice more firm. “I love you.” And then, just to double down on it: “I’m so in love with you it scares the shit outta me. I love fuckin’—everything about you. I never wanna love anyone else ever again, not if it's not you.”

His heart is beating wild in his chest, and the pervy little part of his brain wonders if you can feel it through his dick. You lean in and kiss him all slow, squeezing your perfect fuckin’ pussy around him, and his hands move further up your back to pull you into him. He feels unsteady, like he’s jumped off a precipice into the unknown. He’s dizzy with the relief of his confession, with the worry of your reaction even as you kiss him, with the feeling of such a tight, slick, heat around his cock.

“I love you, too.”

He almost misses it with the way you murmur it into the corner of his mouth and with his head spinning from overstimulation. He blinks at you, giving you those big brown eyes and his jaw works as his mind catches up to speed. You smile, dropping more kisses over his strong features, then laugh when he finally yanks his head back to stare at you, his breath catching in his chest.

“You love me.” It’s not a question, but more of a confirmation; him reassuring himself that what he’d heard was real. You nod, hands smoothing over his broad shoulders, down his biceps. His eyes search yours as his hips shift underneath you, making you sigh happily. Something in him snaps.

He re-positions his feet on the floor, one of his hands gripping your hip and the other wrapped around the back of your neck. Your eyes widen, and you have a split second to balance yourself against his chest before he’s snapping his hips up, fucking into you at a frantic pace. The gasp you make is music to his fuckin’ ears.

“Say it again.” He growls at you, gaze drifting over your body, watching the way your tits bounce with his thrusts. “Say it.”

“I love you.”

Your words make him moan, and he doesn’t care how ridiculous he sounds. “Again,” he demands, voice ragged, and you obey—you say it over and over again until his mind is filled with it, the words a soothing balm for all his insecurities. You cry out, trembling in his lap, his cock deep inside you, and Adam is overcome.

He holds you there, the hand on your neck moving between your legs to rub quick circles on your clit. “I fuckin’ love you too, goddamn, this tight little pussy. You gonna cum for me? Cum all over my big fuckin’ cock?” He’s panting, staring you down, not letting you look away. “Fuckin’—say it when you cum. Please—please.”

You nod quickly, mouth hanging open, squirming so deliciously on his cock as your cunt gets tighter and tighter around him. He isn’t sure he’s even breathing, fingers moving desperately as you sob out his name, hips jerking in his lap. Your hands clutch at him, fingers raking at his chest as you chant I love you, I love you, the words all broken by your cries and whines. It’s fuckin’ beautiful.

“Fuuuuhhhhck.” Adam groans between gritted teeth, eyes rolling back in his head as your pussy squeezes his cock like it’s trying to milk him, like it’s begging for all his fuckin’ cum. He lets out loud, feral, shuddering breaths, trying to hold back—he isn’t done with you yet. “Oh, you feel so fuckin’ good, jeeeezus.” His words sound all strangled, and he has just the smallest bit of sense to wrap his arms around you when you slump into his chest.

Your breaths are short little pants against his neck, and he closes his eyes, savoring the feeling of them—of you in general, the weight of you on top of him, your sticky skin against his, your body heat. “I love you.” He croaks out, saying it again just because he can. You hum in response, nuzzling your face closer; it makes him smile.

He trails the pads of his fingers down your spine and then back up, feeling the texture of your skin. You were his. His to touch, to kiss, to hold, to love.

He was yours.

It’s a heady, hopeful thought that tastes like the future.

______________________________________________________________

taglist friends!

@leatherboundbirate @fathersonandhouseofgucci @direnightshade @paper-n-ashes @glassbxttless @barbers-glimmerin-darlin @peachyproserpina @jynzandtonic @hopeamarsu @mariesackler @millenialcatlady @sacklerscumrag @cornmousequeen @eagerforhoney @icarusinthesea @heartofjakku

[mengyan]

Omg hey! I’m so exited to read the Valentine’s Day collab!! I love love loooove your writing so much!! So anyway I wrote my first Carulia fanfic and I just wanted to ask you what you think of this small bit? If it’s bad please tell me-I wanna improve🥺

If you don’t wanna critique it I totally get it, it is kind of long.

..

Julia POV

Warm rays of sunshine brushed Julia’s freckled cheeks, making up for the bite of frost in the air. The sky was a cheerful blue today, reflecting her mood. She was sitting at a street corner, admiring the view of quaint little shops that resembled the cutesy designs of dollhouses.

Saturday morning chatter rung in her ears in soft, eloquent words of French that were so different from the English required for her job. A frenzy of Bonjour’s (hello/good morning) and Comment allez vous? (How are you doing?) could be heard from across the street.

It was good to be home, to have a day off to enjoy the beauty she had forgotten Poiters possessed. As an avid traveller, there was nowhere quite like the city. Nothing could match it’s charming, Romanesque buildings or tranquil solitude.

Julia smiled at nothing in particular, a flaky, warm croissant in one hand and a timeless romance novel in the other.

How long had it been since she had gotten to relax like this? To enjoy the nature of her city and not have to chase a certain red rogue across the globe? The very same red rogue she struggled to protect from her coworkers?

A sigh escaped her lips. Suddenly her mind wandered to someone she hadn’t wanted to think about: Carmen Sandiego. The thief never ceased to plague her thoughts lately. A warm blush tinted her cheeks as she recalled the kiss they had shared in Cairo, Egypt. There was a sort of thrill in knowing it was so, so wrong, and Julia hated the adrenaline rush it gave her.

Their last interaction had been a week ago, and it had been on an ACME mission rather than the late night visits the thief had begun to pay her. The absence of the red rogue pained her terribly. She missed Carmen. She missed everything about her from her cunning gray eyes to her knowing smile, the light rasp to her voice, and the feel of her lips. She had barely gotten to see the lady in red recently.

Would this be what a relationship with the woman would entail? Random visits sprinkled through the weeks while Carmen gallivanted around the globe and Julia had to pretend she wanted her behind bars? Would she be doomed to live with this uncertainty, this emptiness?

At her inner turmoil, the thief seemed to appear before her with her signature smirk, the curl of her lips forever ingrained in Julia’s memory. Hallucination-Carmen spoke, reciting the promise she had made her not too long ago. “We can have a normal relationship, Jules. We’ll be able to see each other everyday, go on dates, do all of that couple-y stuff. I promise.”

Julia had scoffed at that, of course. Maybe in another world where she wasn’t dating a thief, for goodness sakes. But still she wished there was some way the red rogue could fulfill her promise. Julia knew that what Carmen was doing was absolutely important but....she couldn’t help but be selfish and wish she had her to herself.

On top of that, though, there was the fear that whatever was happening between the two was nothing but physical on Carmen’s end, that this...fling...would be over in a heartbeat and the red rogue would once again disappear with Julia’s heart, only this time she wouldn’t return.

She didn’t want fo think about that.

Trying to take her mind off her worries, Julia reopened her book. The petite woman frowned, nibbling on the last of her pastry and lazily scanning the page for anything interesting. It was one of her favorites, yet she couldn’t bring herself to relax, to forget.

Sighing, she closed the book with a sense of finality, tucking it safely in her messenger bag. It was no use. Nothing could keep Julia’s attention from Carmen for long.

“Partir déjà?” Said Nadia, Julia’s friend and the cashier. The woman adjusted the side of her hijab before opening the cash register. “Habituellement, vous passez toute la matinée ici lorsque vous êtes absent.”

TRANSLATION: “Leaving Already?.....Usually you spend the entire morning here when you’re off.”

Julia smiled sadly. “Quelque chose me vient à l'esprit ces derniers temps, Je ne peux pas me détendre.”

TRANSLATION: “Something has been on my mind lately. I can’t relax.”

Nadia smirked knowingly. “Querelle d'amant?“

TRANSLATION: “Lover’s Quarrel?“

Julia felt her cheeks heat up. Nadia was one of the few people who even knew she was seeing someone, let alone the fact that that someone was a thief. “Entre autres, oui. Il s’agit plus de mon travail.“

TRANSLATION: “Among other things, yes. It’s more about my job.“

Nadia shook her head, making a tut sound. “Tu travailles trop dur.“ She inserted her credit card into the register, swiping twice before the transaction was complete. “Vous savez, les filles et moi allons au Buckingham Club ce soir. Tu devrais venir. Je parie que cela vous fera oublier ... quel est son nom? Carolyn?“

TRANSLATION: You work too hard....You know, the girls and I are hitting the Buckingham Club tonight. You should come. I bet that’ll take your mind off of...what’s her name? Carolyn?“

“Carmen.“ Julia corrected with a smile. “Et Je ne sais pas, pas ce soir. je n'en ai pas vraiment envie.”

TRANSLATION: “Carmen....I don’t know, not tonight. I don’t really feel like it.”

“ S'il vous plaît? Ce sera amusant!?” Nadia replied, making an exaggerated pouty face.

TRANSLATION: “Please? It’ll be fun!”

“Je ne devrais vraiment pas.....”

TRANSLATION: “I really shouldn’t...”

The cashier shook her head, pressing her lips into a thin line. “Oh, Julia, tu es toujours aussi ennuyeuse.”

TRANSLATION: “Oh, Julia, you’re always such a bore.”

Jules simply smiled in response, pushing the rim of her glasses up her nose. “Peut-être la prochaine fois, Nadia.”

TRANSLATION: “Maybe next time, Nadia.”

She said her goodbyes and left the small cafe, the little bell at the door signaling her departure. The cool, crisp air met Julia immediately, the frost already kissing her skin. She turned the corner, making a beeline for her apartment complex when suddenly, a certain beeping sound caught her attention.

A very familiar beeping sound.

She threw a discreet glance over her shoulder before darting into the nearest alleyway, ducking behind the nearest dumpster before removing her pen from her pocket.

Julia clicked the cap, tossing it to the ground as she wrinkled her nose at the stench.

“Agent Argent.“ Chief’s no-nonsense voice came as her hologram blossomed. “I have a new mi-“ She paused, taking in Julia’s location.

“Are you behind a dumpster, Agent?“

Julia felt her cheeks heat slightly “I was in public and had to be...creative...“ She replied curtly, breathing through her mouth.

“Right....anyhoo,“ Chief began again, adjusting her blazer. “I’ve got on assignment for you. I’m sorry to interupt your time off, but you’re the closest agent in proximity.“

Julia smiled sadly, scratching her wrist. “It’s alright, chief. I was feeling restless anyway.“

Chief cocked her head in mild concern. “I’m sorry to hear that, Argent. It’s nothing too serious, but we have reports of some meddling with the security systems at the Louvre. I need you to investigate.“

“Of course. Will Agent Zari or Devineaux be accompanying me?“ She asked, already picturing the splendor at the Louvre. Maybe a trip to the museum was just what she needed today.

“No. Zari and Devineaux are on a case in Santo Domingo.“ Chief said, beginning to pace the length of the alleyway.

“Khadija or Jonas, then?“ Julia replied, referencing two agents she’d been paired with in the past, albeit less frequently than Chase or Zari.

“You’ll be going it alone today. Intel indicates that Carmen Sandiego won’t be present. I trust you can handle a routine check up.”

“I’ll take care of it, chief.“ She answered, giving a small salute to her superior. Internally, Julia released a sigh of relief that she wouldn’t have to tail Carmen.

“Good. Transportation has already been arranged and the details should be on your phone.“ Chief said, crossing her arms. Almost simultaneously, her phone pinged with an encrypted email from ACME.

“Don’t disapoint me, Agent.“ With a terse nod, the hologram disappeared from before her.

Quickly, she darted home and changed into her ACME-issued suit before making her way to the train station. Paris was waiting, after all.

...

No matter how many times she frequented the city, Paris never ceased to amaze Julia with a million new places she hadn’t visited yet. The Louvre, however, was an outlier to the fact. It was Julia’s favorite spot to hit whenever she was in the area.

It had been One-Thirty when her train had pulled into the Paris Saint Lazare, a station settled on the right bank of the Seine and the one closest in proximity to her destination.

The Louvre lay before her in all its grandiose splendor, afternoon sunlight glinting off of the crystal pyramid and casting a rainbow into the burbling fountain before it. The Famed palace of the same name was set on either sides of it, the tasteful renaissance era architecture transporting her into another time.

Julia smiled. She knew every corner of the museum. Every nook and crany was immortalized in her mind from it’s renowned Petite Galerie to it’s extended Egyptian exhibit.

She removed her ACME card from her messenger bag, thumbing it’s side to allow her interpol credentials before going to speak with the security

As promised, a staff member was waiting for her once she got inside.

“Bonjour. Julia Argent, Interpol Britain?“ A tall, skinny man with hooded blue eyes and unkempt blonde hair stepped forward.

“Oui.“ She replied, flashing her badge. “Marcel Cardone?“

“Oui, correct.“ He answered in a thick French accent. “Thank you for coming.“ He said, gesturing for her to walk with him.

Julia smiled. “Bien sûr. J'ai été informé mes supérieurs de la mission. Pouvez-vous me dire quel semble être exactement le problème?“

TRANSLATION: “Of course. I was briefed by my superiors on the mission. Can you tell me what exactly seems to be the problem?“

Marcel spoke as he led her through the halls of the grand building. “Do not worry, I am fluent in English. I do not know the details but the head of security will inform you on the matter.“

“Sounds good,“ Julia said reverting back to English. Her guide stopped at a door with la sécurité (security) written in bold script.

“This is it, mademoiselle.“ Marcel said, opening the door and leading her to the back. Standing before her was another door. Probably to an office, Julia guessed. “Monsieur Toussaint? L'agent d'Interpol est arrivé.“

TRANSLATION: “Mr.Toussaint? The interpol agent has arrived.“

A tall, stocky man with brown skin glanced up, adjusting his glasses. “L'agent? Miss, le problème s'est corrigé juste avant votre arrivée.”

TRANSLATION: “The Agent? Miss, the issue corrected itself just before you arrived.”

“Il n'y a donc rien de mal avec la sécurité?” Julia asked, confused.

TRANSLATION: “So is there nothing wrong with the security?“

“Plus maintenant, non...” Mr.Toussaint answered, scrutinizing her.

TRANSLATION. “Not anymore, no.”

“Mais je suis venu tout ce chemin...” She answered, slightly disappointed.

TRANSLATION: “But I came all this way....”

The man scratched the side of his head in mild concern. “Nous sommes désolés, mademoiselle. Perhaps you would like a tour of the Louvre in compensation?”

TRANSLATION: “We are sorry, Miss. Perhaps you would like a tour of the Louvre in compensation?”

“No, it’s quite alright, thank you.” Julia murmured, tugging at the hem of sleeve.

“Please accept. Nous allons même le rendre gratuit!”

TRANSLATION: Please accept. We will even make it free!”

“If you insist.” Julia smiled awkwardly.

“Good.” Mr.Toussaint lifted the phone on his desk, dialing as he spoke. “Cheryl? Préparez-vous à faire une visite. Oui. Rencontrez-la près des statues.”

TRANSLATION. “Cheryl? Prepare to give a tour. Yes. Meet her by the statues.”

The balding man put the phone down, swiping through the many papers scattered on his desk. “Our tour guide, Cheryl, will meet you out by our Sculpture Department. Please enjoy your day.”

They exchanged goodbyes and thank-yous before Mr. Toussaint returned to the millions of files on his desk and Julia to the swarming museum crowds.

Deftly, Julia navigated the throngs of people, making her way to the modern sculpture exhibit. As promised a woman was waiting before the exhibit checking her watch.

Her dark red-brunette hair was pulled into a pony-tail, and a pair of green khakis and a blue blouse contrasting against her flawless brown skin. From the back of her head, Julia could see a thick pair of glasses settling at the rim of her nose.

She seemed familiar, so very familiar....

And then she spoke. “Enjoying the view, Jules?”

The light rasp, the sultry tone of voice...

The petite woman gasped. “Carmen?”

“Surprise.” The thief said with a smirk.

“What’re you doing here?!” Julia asked, confused. Was Carmen behind the security issue already being solved before she arrived?

“You must have mistaken me for someone else,” The Red Rogue grinned coyly, reaching over gracefully and slipping her fingers between Julia’s. “I’m just Cheryl Vasquez, foreign exchange student and Louvre Tour guide.”

“Of course.” Julia scoffed but played along. “And what would Cheryl Vasquez be doing touring the Louvre?”

“If you’re asking whether I’m here to stop VILE, then no. They aren’t trying to steal anything. I’m here of my own accord.” Carmen replied, her thumb tracing circles along Julia’s palm.

“So I suppose it’s just a coincidence that I was sent here on a mission?”

Carmen winked at her, her rouged lips relaxing into their signature grin. “Yep. A coincidence. Absolutely nothing more.”

A twitch of annoyance flared within Julia. Sometimes Carmen’s games could get tiring. “Well then, since you aren’t stealing anything, I’ll be on my way then.”

“What?” The thief said, for once taken aback.

“You heard me.” Julia began with a smirk, turning in the other direction. “Have a nice day, Miss Sandiego. The Louvre is quite the sight to see.”

“Not so fast, Jules.” Carmen grasped her wrists gently, pulling her in close. Julia blushed, her mouth mere inches from the thief’s. She parted her lips gently, her eyelids sinking lower. Her tongue flecked across the expanse of her bottom lips as she waited to meet the thief’s lips for the first time in more than a week.

“Huh?” Julia said in confusion as she felt the other woman’s heat move away from her own.

Carmen was no longer before her, lips moving closer. Instead she darted away from the smaller woman, a smug grin scrawled on her beautiful face. She waved Julia’s ACME gas gun in the air teasingly, throwing her a wink. “A theft in progress is occurring, agent. You’re lawfully required to follow.”

“Carmen!” Julia shouted in shock, not at all caring about the attention they were gaining from their fellow museum-go-ers. “Give it back!”

“Come and get me!” She called with a trickle of laughter, disappearing into the hordes of people.

Julia smiled despite her frustration and ran after her, for once not at all caring that her behavior was extremely unprofessional.

That was what Carmen did to her. She...freed her. Allowed Julia to relax, to sit still, to live in the moment.

Julia felt all the tension that had built up over the course of the week melt away as she pursued the chase and danced across the Louvre court yard.

She chased Carmen out of the museum, nearing the edge of the complex. “Aha!” Julia shouted, finally catching up to her lover and realizing a smile had formed on her lips.

“You’ve got me, alright,” Carmen smiled, lowering her lashes flirtatiously as her voice lowered teasingly. She slipped her arms around Julia’s waist being just tall enough that the shorter woman had to slightly look up to meet her eyes. “Now what’re you gonna do with me?”

Julia answered her with a kiss, feeling the thief’s bright red lipstick smear onto her mouth. The lady in red captured Julia’s lower lip with her teeth, chuckling at the ACME agent’s Yelp of surprise as she tugged. Every gasp that managed to escape her lips was swallowed by Carmen’s mouth as she pulled her closer with passion.

“Mhm, I’ve missed that.” Julia smiled. “I’ve missed you.”

“You aren’t the only one.” Carmen purred against her lips. “You have no idea how badly I wanted to come and see you...but...”

“It’s alright, Carmen. I understand.” Julia whispered, touching her forehead to the Latina’s and lacing her fingers through the thief’s. “Do you plan on telling me why you’re here, though?”

“Can’t I just pay a visit to my favorite ACME agent?” She teased, beginning to lead Julia out of the museum complex.

“At my apartment, yes. But here?”

“Okay fine....” The thief relented, turning away. Julia spotted a tiny tinge of a blush dusting her cheeks. Carmen? Blushing? “I....may or may not have had my team hack the museum security and leave a trace to VILE to get you sent here.”

“Carmen!” Julia hissed. “You could get caught! And for what? Just to see me? You can meet me at my apartment!”

“Hey, hey, what’s done is done, alright?” She said, her arms flying in front of her in attempt to calm her down. Then, she smiled. “Aww you were worried about me. That’s adorable.“

“Thats-Thats not!....Thats not the point!“ Julia tried to fight a blush but it was no use.

Carmen laughed, caressing Julia’s face and tilting her chin up to meet her eyes. “Hey. I know you mean well. I’ll be more careful from now on. Promise.“

“O...Okay.“ Julia murmured, the woman in red’s slate gray eyes catching her off guard.

“But...since you’re already here....we should make the most of it, no?“ Carmen smiled sweetly, for once with no tinge of smugness to it.

“Alright.“ Julia relented with a small grin. “So is this a....date?“

The latina winked, her teeth sliding over her bottom lip. “Do you want it to be?“

“No! I mean...I just thought...“

“Relax, I’m messing with you.“ Carmen said, taking Julia’s hands in hers. “The truth is...Jules...I wanted to prove that I’m serious about this. About us. You...mean a lot to me, and I want us to be about more than just random hookups.“

The petite woman felt herself smiling at the other’s words, and gave the red rogue’s hands a squeeze. “You have no idea how relieved I am to hear you say that.“

Carmen returned her grin, running her thumb over Julia’s knuckles. “Explanations aside, are you ready for the greatest date in the world?“

Julia’s brow tugged upwards along with her lips. “The greatest, huh?“

Carmen threw her a flirty glance. “Hey, I don’t settle for second best.“

“I can see that. Alright then, Miss Sandiego.“ The shorter woman said coyly, “Show me what you got.“

....

ANON!! THIS IS SO AMAZING OH MY GOD?? for your first fic this is incredible and i absolutely love how you write them!! everything is so in character and carmen absolutely would create an entire heist just to meet up with jules 😭

i don’t have much to critique: just a few minor spelling errors here and there and some misplaced punctuation but that’s it, everything else is so good?? i’m serious this gave me so much serotonin omg,,, if you post it on ao3 let me know and i’ll be sure to leave kudos and a comment!! <3

and thank you so much for enjoying my writing, i can say the same for you :D

[argentrenard]

Prompt #15: Ache

Guys like this really get on my nerves.

Now, I happen to like women.  I really do.  You won’t see me waiting against a wall.  I see her strutting her stuff, I’m going to walk up.  If she turns me down, I’m gone.  If she turns me down but is smirking, I’ll hang around. If she grabs me by the collar, well ok then.

But this man, this highlander with the lingering stares who doesn’t know how to take no for an answer when it means just that?  He really just makes me want to step in.

But see, that’s the thing.  You don’t just step in, as that’s rude too.  This beautiful woman sitting between us at the bar?  She can take care of herself.  She’s powerful.  She makes her own choices and I’ll be damned if I’m going to get in the way of that.

She already made her choice tonight, and I could tell it was ‘I’d like to be left alone.’

Maybe I need to give some men a lesson in body language.  Or swiven’s sake, common sense.

He’s being insistent though.  He’s mistaken the politeness for that smirk I mentioned earlier.  Why don’t they understand the difference between ‘hard to get’ and ‘piss off?’

I don’t want to do anything.  It’s not my fight.  It’s not my business.  I don’t want to diminish her.  But hey, sometimes we could use a little hand, right?  We’re not all islands off the coast of La Noscea.

I get up, pay my bill.  I hear her let out a sigh.  It’s a sigh that says even though I wasn’t involved, now she’s going to have to deal with this guy completely alone.  That decides it for me.  I understand this headache.  The acknowledgement is there.  I’m free to act.  So liberating. “Hi there, handsome!  Mind if I just lean in here, I like the bar better in this area,” I say, getting in his face and acting like I’m coming on to him. This always freaks out his type.  He is immediately angry.

“Piss off, cock-blocker,” he says.  I wink at him.  This makes him angrier.

“Look, handsome,” I say, “I just like the view here,” I bat my eyes at him.  He fumes.  I guess silver foxes with golden eyes aren’t his type.  Thank the gods, actually. “Hey, why don’t you two get a room?” she teases from behind me.

“I”m warning you, long-necked asswipe,” he breathes in my face, “You’re a cock-blocker and I hate cock-blockers.  No one asked you to get in our way.  I was talking with the lady and she wants it.”

I think that’s what decides it for her.  There’s polite, and then there’s not just being talked at, but talked about.  I feel her shift in her seat to stand.  I wait a moment, staring at him as he stands there, bunching his fists, ready to swipe at me.  He’s waiting for me to say one more thing. “Alright,” I say, and side step.  Her boot comes crashing up and slams into his crotch.  He chokes out in garbled and stunned surprise.  I don’t deny that ache will be felt tomorrow.  She has pretty impressive boots. “There,” I say as he writhes on the floor, both hands clutching his aching groin, “I stopped cock-blocking.”

She bursts out laughing at me.  She grabs her drink and toasts me.  I think that if I play my cards right, I might get her to invite me home.  But that’s not what she wanted, and there should never be an obligation associated with this transaction.  I salute her with two fingers, bow, and leave. She’s had enough narratives thrust on her for one night as it is.  She doesn’t need mine now as well.

I think we’re all better off.  We don’t always get what we deserve.  Only sometimes, rarely, we do.  Including Mr. Ache.

[plumblossomkun]

Spirit

word count: 2232

synopsis: in which you can’t find a costume for a Halloweekend party, and the cute employee at Spirit Halloween, Wong Yukhei, is all too glad to help you.

warning[s]: flirting, mentions of alcohol, a single profanity, and a kiss.

a/n: another cute one! i was sitting in my cog. psych class this morning writing little notes on what i wanted to write for this fic and i think my professor saw me getting a little excited over it because she gave me a ? look and i was like dfghjkl i need to not think about fanfic during my one class on MWF

Every year, come late autumn, the mall pitches a large tent in the parking lot and fill it with all sorts of cobwebs and costumes. Atop it all, the grim reaper logo flies on a pumpkin orange banner bearing the name of the store, Spirit Halloween, and its catchphase, So much fun it’s scary!

“Y/n, are you ready to find yourself a costume for this Halloweekend?” Mina asks, gripping your elbow. “I can’t believe you’re actually coming along to the party this year.”

“I can’t believe my dad’s letting me,” you sigh as she drags you through the open door. Immediately your nose is flooded with the strange, zesty smell of dry ice as white smoke pools around your feet, and you cough.

A honey-haired, tall boy looks over from the cash register to your left. He waves at the two of you, with the brightest, most honest smile you’ve ever seen. “Welcome to Spirit!”

“Hello,” you reply, dipping your head in greeting.

“He’s cute,” Mina murmurs, eyes flicking from top to bottom as she appraises him. “Too bad I have a boyfriend.”

You snort. “You say that every time we come across someone remotely attractive, like you’re not whipped for Kazumi.”

“I can appreciate handsome boys.” She rolls her eyes, then gasps, spotting something at the other end of the store, pointing excitedly. “Y/n, look, there’s couple costumes! Should I force Kazu to wear one with me?”

“Hell yeah.”

“Oh my god. I think I see a honey and bee set! Meet me at the register in 30?”

“Got it. I’ll go… look for a costume.”

“Text me if you find anything exciting!”

Half-heartedly, you examine a simple witch costume, one with a long, flowing black skirt and a pointed felt hat. You’ve been a witch before, more than twice, at least, and you don’t mind the low cut neckline if it means you’re not going to spend another day looking in vain for another costume that won’t have your father up in arms.

“Finding everything okay?”

You glance at the speaker; it’s the cute boy from the register grinning down at you. He towers over you a little, and he notices when you flinch at his presence and takes an amiable step backwards, chuckling.

“I think I’m good,” is your automatic response, staring down at the plastic bag containing the witch costume. 

Meekly, you add, “...If I change my mind, I’ll come find you.”

“Of course. Anything you need, you come to me, doll.” He grins, giggling a little at his own audacity, and then heads off to talk to a couple of girls in the next aisle poring over little devilish pieces and pairing lipsticks with their outfits.

Mina holds up the witch costume next to you, screwing up her nose in focus. “I don’t know, girl. I know you don’t wanna look too slutty, but you know, it’s Halloweekend. Go crazy. Go stupid.”

“I know, I know.” You take the costume back from her, and place it back on the hooks. “I just, I don’t know. I haven’t felt super excited about Halloween in a while.”

“That’s okay~” she reassures you, patting your cheeks. “Take your time, you still have one more day!”

“Yeah…” you sigh. “Did you find what you wanted, at least?”

She lights up immediately, and holds up an Adult Avocado and Toast couples’ costume. “He’s going to hate this so much, but what do you think?”

“It’s very… Californian of you.”

She laughs. “That settles it. I’m getting it. Are you going to buy any makeup or anything?”

“No, I asked Lisa to do my makeup.” As you talk, the two of you navigate through the aisles towards the cash registers at the front. “That’s another reason I want to find a costume fast; she told me it would be nice if I told her as soon as possible so she could come up with a look.”

“Hello!” the cashier greets you. “Did any employees help you today?”

“Ah, yes,” Mina taps her lip with her debit card. “I think his name was Yukhei.”

The cashier smiles fondly at the name as she rings up the purchase. “That’ll be 49.99.”

Mina swipes her card, and turns to you as the transaction loads. “Are you gonna come back tomorrow?” 

“Do I have a choice?”

“Other than skipping the party? None.”

The next day you show up at Spirit alone. You’d tried to get Lisa to come with you, but she'd had refused in favor of studying for the Physics midterm, and Mina’s shift was going to run long past Spirit’s closing time of 9pm.

You hold your breath when you pass through the fumes of the fog machine this time, striding through it so quickly you miss a certain someone waving at you. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he calls after you, his voice reeling you back. “Why in such a rush?”

Biting your lip, you backtrack to the register. “There’s a party this weekend…”

“And you’re in desperate need of a costume,” he finishes, eyes gleaming. “Well, you’ve come to the right guy.”

He offers you his hand to shake and introduces himself. “Wong Yukhei. You can call me Yukhei, or Lucas, my English name.”

You take his hand and shake. His palm is warm and callused against yours. “Y/n.”

“Well, y/n, what are you in the market for?” he asks, rounding the register to walk side by side with you down the aisle of trick or treat bowls, the ones that have little gimmicky skulls and bony hands that react whenever you reach into them. “Cute? Sexy? Spooky?”

“I don’t know,” you say, picking up a Scream mask attached to a pump meant to push a red liquid faintly resembling blood into its plastic chamber and turning it over in your hands just to do something with them as you approach the Adult Costumes section in the back. “There’s a party this weekend, and I don’t know what I want to be.”

“What costumes have you worn before?”

“I’ve been a black cat and witch more times than I can count. I was a fairy when I was a kid, once.” You replace the mask on a shelf with similar pieces.

He laughs. “Those aren’t bad. I’m sure you looked great.”

“Yeah, but they’re safe choices.” 

Yukhei reaches up to grab a costume from the top row of hooks, but pauses before he grabs it, looking you square in the eye to say, “Nothing wrong with safe, doll.”

He says that, but with the smell of cedar and vanilla radiating from him as he leans down to hand it to you, you think, maybe safe is a little too boring for you. 

Lisa gently pulls the hair back from your face and draws it into a loose plait. “You found a costume, huh?”

“Yeah.” Your fingers twitch as you remember how you’d taken it home and torn the plastic bag apart to really try it on for the first time, and looked in the mirror. You’d spun and marveled at yourself until you grew dizzy, and then you’d laid on your bed and laughed.

“And what else did you find?” she prods, pinching your cheek. “Cuz I heard from Mina…”

You roll your eyes. “What did she tell you?”

She pats primer on your face, and you wince at the feel of the cold cream. “That you had goo-goo eyes for a tall and tan hottie.”

“I did not!”

She snickers as she looks through her foundations to match your skin color. “Did you get his number?”

“Why would I ask for that? He was just helping me out. You know, like a normal retail employee would.” “Well, sweetie, when two people are physically attracted to each other, it’s only natural that they want to get to know each other in a more intimate way. Whether you want to hold his hand or hop on that dick, I’m not judging.”

You splutter. “I’m not going to do that!”

“Alright, alright,” she relents, spinning a brush between her fingers with a giggle, “but if anything happens, I wanna hear all the details.”

At ten past nine, you show up to the party with Mina on your right. Kazumi trails behind the two of you, tugging at the green felt avocado costume on his frame and grumbling. 

The house belongs to one of Kazumi’s friends, whose parents are gone for the weekend on a business trip. It’s a lovely little villa in the midst of nowhere, with a chic, modern inside, and a wooden deck complete with a firepit, where most of the invitees sit, soaking up the autumn breeze and firelight.

“We’re going to go get some drinks,” Mina announces, turning to take her boyfriend’s hand. She looks you up and down with a grin. “Go get em, tigress.”

“You’re ditching me already?” You cling to her sleeve; while you love your costume, you don’t love the idea of walking around the party by yourself no matter what you’re wearing.

“No, I’m letting you free. Find a corner and wait for the boys to come to you, darling.” She blows you a kiss and plucks your fingers from her costume to head into the kitchen. “You’ve always been beautiful. Now unleash your inner hoe.”

The jungle juice is way too strong for you.

Still, you take sips from your half-filled cup every now and then to keep your hands from shielding your body, letting the sharp heat of the liquid sear the hesitation from your fingertips. The tight black lycra material of the SWAT catsuit on your body makes you feel like you’re exposed, every curve, every bump, every out-of-place spot on your body on display for everyone to see. 

The firelight doesn’t quite reach you in this corner, though, on the cushioned wooden bench just to the right of the screen doors, so you’re not all that worried.

The polished wood of the deck creaks as a tall silhouette approaches you, and you curl your legs under your body to let them squeeze past you and the group of frat boys cheering loudly for their friend chugging the contents of a vodka bottle.

But the person sits by you instead. 

“I thought I recognized you,” a familiar voice purrs. “What are the odds, though?”

You meet Yukhei’s glittering chocolate eyes with a gasp. In a leather jacket, distressed blue jeans and a pair of aviators clipped onto his shirt, and with his hair slicked back over his forehead, even in the faint light, he looks more attractive than he has any right to be. 

“Greaser?” is all you can manage to say.

“Guilty as charged.” He holds his hands up in mock surrender, touching the rings in his earlobes when he says, “You look good.”

“Thanks.” Blood rushes to your cheeks, and you fiddle with with the plastic cuffs on the belt hanging low on your hips. It feels strange to be talking to him as a person and not as a customer, though his easy, goofy grin is still the same. “You’re not too bad yourself.”

Yukhei laughs, fiddling with the dozen rings on his fingers. “You should have a little more confidence, babe.”

You choke on your punch. Doll had been a safe nickname, but babe? “I’m… what?”

He shakes his head, gesturing to all of you. “Come on. You don’t think you look good?”

When you open your mouth, ready to deflect his compliment, he covers your mouth with a hand. In the firelight, the edges of his face are outlined in amber and carnelian, and heat floods your cheeks when you notice that he’s not smiling, for once, and instead looks entirely serious when he tells you, “You’re beautiful.”

He sits back, taking his hand from your skin as if the brief moment of contact has burned him. He turns his head towards the firepit, and you can see that he’s scrunching his face up awkwardly, cheeks red with embarrassment. 

“Thank you,” you murmur.

He scoots closer to you, so close that your legs touch from knee to hip. “Sorry, I don’t want to invade your personal space, but I really can’t hear you.”

“No, it’s okay.” It really isn’t; his sweet, woody cologne envelops you, washing over you like the heat of the fire, and you unconsciously lean into him, cheek brushing his shoulder as you repeat your thanks. 

Yukhei chuckles, and you take a deep swig of your drink in the hopes that it’ll keep you from drowning in his smile.

He doesn’t say anything for a while. And eventually, you give in and rest your head on his shoulder, watching the embers dance in the firepit and the rowdy group of boys begin to wind down for the night, sitting on the edge of the deck and pointing up drunkenly at the constellations in the sky.

It’s a little uncomfortable, resting on his collarbone, but when his arm sneaks around to wrap around your shoulders, you don’t mind at all. 

And when his eyes meet yours and crinkle in a smile, and one of his hands comes up to cup your face gently, you close your eyes and lean into the kiss.

You leave that night with the taste of chocolate on your lips and his hand in yours.

[pkg4mumtown]

New Man

Summary: See Photo

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, and dumb stuff, female reader

A/N: Big thank you to @abigailredgrave for this request and for being super cool. I had a lot of fun with this and decided to be a bit silly with it. Despite what I've written, I don't hate the song or Ed Sheeran so don't get mad at me lol

When I left Kyle months ago, I expected to be more distraught over the break up. The truth was I was sick and tired of putting up with his bullshit. Still, you don’t stay with someone for six years and walk away entirely unscathed, but here I was. When I met him, he was still getting into the music industry and hadn’t yet been tainted by it. Within a few years, he had completely blown up and that’s when the problems started occurring. He started to frequently come home drunk and high after ridiculous parties, sometimes not even coming home at all. Rumors of him hooking up with random girls surfaced and I tried my best to believe that they were just that; rumors. Meanwhile, I was working at a coffee shop near our apartment and constantly getting hounded by media and fans. I was done. Absolutely done. He wasn’t the same man I fell for anymore, he was so full of himself and obsessed with his image that I felt like I didn’t even know him. So, I left. I packed all my shit, left Los Angeles, and moved to the opposite side of the country to New York.

I was able to snag a job at a coffee shop on the outskirts of downtown, thankful to not have to commute in that clusterfuck. That’s where I met John. He was an easy customer, always ordering the largest Americano we offered and every so often requesting extra shots in it. He visited so frequently that I was able to tell how many shots he required just by the weariness written on his face.

“Today looks like a ‘two extra shots’ kinda day, John,” I had greeted him.

“I can’t argue with that,” he sighed.

“The extra shots are on me today,” I spoke quickly, hoping he would miss it as I tapped on the computer screen.

“I can’t let you do that,” he protested.

“Oops,” I shrugged and sent the total to the card reader.

He chuckled and shook his head, swiping his card. He pursed his lips in thought as he waited for the machine to finish the transaction, “Well, how about I buy you dinner to pay you back?”

“John, two extra shots are worth less than two dollars. So, unless we’re going to McDonald’s, it’ll be a lot more than a repayment.”

“Is that a problem?”

I went silent as I deciphered his words, “Um, what?”

“If me asking you out to dinner is more than a repayment, is that a problem?” he clarified.

“Are you asking me out on a date?”

His face reddened in response, but he nodded, glancing down at his feet briefly. I bit my lip, writing my phone number on his coffee cup before making it.

The date went well because in a couple weeks we were absolutely smitten with one another. He was so genuine, kind, and an all-around sweetheart that I couldn’t help but fall for him. That nearly changed a week later during a trek at the park with Dog.

I took a picture of the three of us together, hoping to brag a little on my social media. I stared the photos I had taken, settling on one and showing it to him. A gentle smile spread across his face as he gazed at the photo with me, pressing a kiss against the side of my head.

“Can I post this, John?” I asked him, admiring the photo with a lovesick smile.

“Post it?” he asked, looking all kinds of lost.

“On Instagram,” I clarified.

“What-a-gram?” he asked slowly. If anything, he looked more lost than before.

After a thorough explanation of Instagram and a scarily quiet John, I waited for his answer nervously. He was older than me and only really used his phone to text or make calls, so I thought I understood his apprehensiveness.

“No,” was his only response.

“Can I ask why?”

“I’d prefer that you didn’t,” he glanced at my crestfallen face and sighed heavily. “But, it has to be said some time.”

I looked up at him questioningly.

“Look, the reason I can’t have my face plastered on the internet with you isn’t because I don’t want you to,” he ran a hand over his face. “It’s for your safety.”

“John…”

“Promise me, that you won’t hate me for what I’m about to tell you,” he pleaded.

“John, what’s going on?”

“Promise me.”

“Okay. I promise.”

“I—I’m an assassin, Y/N. I have a lot of enemies, some who wouldn’t hesitate to hurt you. I also just prefer to not risk the security of a future mission, so I’d like to have very few people know my face.”

I stared at him with my mouth slightly hung open, trying to process what he just told me. It was all so absurd that it felt like a joke, but his face held a deadly calm. I was certain I could tell when he was joking, and this was not one of those times. I felt his hand hesitantly reach out to grab mine, my hand twitched slightly in surprise.

“Please, don’t be scared of me. I just wanted you to know what you’re getting into with me. If this is too much for you, I’ll understand if you want to end this now,” his voice held an air of defeat.

I swallowed thickly, finally meeting his eyes again. I leaned up, pressing a kiss to his cheek and feeling him relax. He maneuvered me, so I was sitting in between his legs, wrapped securely in his arms.  I could feel his heart thundering into my back, as if he was still nervous about what I would say.

“What if I don’t show your face or use your name?” I asked, loosely holding my phone between my fingers and fidgeting with it.

His chest expanded behind me, telling me he took an exceptionally big breath while placing his chin on my shoulder, “Okay.”

“Really?” I asked a bit too hopefully, earning me a soft smile and a kiss to my temple from John.

“Yea,” he murmured, taking the phone from my fingers and opening the camera app.

With his free hand he brought my face closer to his, allowing him to hide his face while he kissed the side of my face. I was so caught off guard, that I laughed at the tickling of his beard against my jaw and completely missed the fact that he took a picture. His chest rumbled with laughter behind me, pressing his body closer as he peppered more kisses across my cheek, the phone long forgotten.

“I adore you,” he whispered blissfully, sliding the phone back into my hands, “Go crazy.”

From there, it became a bit of an obsession to plaster my interactions with this faceless man on my Instagram. I’m pretty sure he regretted telling me to “go crazy” because I would sneak pictures of us or just him whenever I could. My Instagram was flooded with photos of him and the dog, especially one where he decided to lay on John’s face and caused John to sneeze for hours as dog hair got up his nose. I would say I snuck a photo of John laying in bed, half naked, but he caught me immediately. I was careful to not get the large expanse of tattoos on his back in their entirety, as I didn’t know exactly what they meant but edges of the tattoos inevitably made their way in.

Time flew by with John and we had been together for a few months, but I was so happy I couldn’t imagine my life before he walked into it. This particular morning, I felt his arm slip around my waist and bring me close to his warm body.

“Yes, John?” I asked groggily, wondering what was so important that he had to wake me up as early him. His lips brushed across my shoulders and the nape of my neck, causing me to convulse and bury my face in the pillow, “No…,” I whined, trying to wriggle away from him.

He followed my movements, laughing into the skin of my upper back and resting his face there, “Wanna go for a drive today?” he mumbled into my skin.

“Where?” my voice muffled by the pillow.

“Mmm,” his voice vibrated as he thought, “Beach?”

“Sounds good, now let me sleep,” I murmured, closing my eyes in a vain attempt to catch a couple more hours of sleep.

“It’s already seven, hon,” he laughed at my inability to survive on six hours of sleep.

“John,” I groaned at him.

He laughed once more, kissing my shoulder and sliding out of bed, “I’ll get breakfast started.”

The promising smell of coffee and bacon dragged me out of bed, so I could eat with John. After breakfast, we packed any necessary items for the beach and changed. I had to stop and admire John in a t-shirt, board shorts, and sandals as he carried things to the front door. The three of us piled into John’s Mustang and headed toward a nearby beach.

When we first started dating, John confessed to me that he didn’t really listen to music while driving. He knew I did, though, and allowed me to take control of the radio. I usually compromised and kept the music low, so we could talk over it. I fiddled with the tuner, catching the end of a pop song I enjoyed, and John tolerated. The host’s voice came over the speakers right after the song faded out, announcing the release of a new song.

“Up next, we have new music from Kyle Eagan. This one’s called New Man.”

I could almost see John’s ears perk up at the name, knowing exactly who he was from what I had told him.

“Isn’t that…?” He trailed off.

“Yep,” I muttered, moving my hand to change the station.

“Wait! I want to hear it,” he swatted my hand away.

“Why would you want to hear it?” I scoffed.

“Didn’t you hear the title?” he raised an eyebrow at me.

“I don’t know why you want to do this to yourself,” I sighed, turning the song up so we could make out the lyrics.

John’s face immediately turned into a grimace as a bassy, pop beat assaulted his car speakers.

I heard he spent five hundred pounds on jeans Goes to the gym at least six times a week Wears boat shoes with no socks on his feet And I hear he's on a new diet and watches what he eats He's got his eyebrows plucked and his arsehole bleached Owns every single Ministry CD Tribal tattoos and he don't know what it means But I heard he makes you happy, so that's fine by me But still, I'm just keepin' it real Still lookin' at your Instagram and I'll be creepin' a lil' I'll be tryin' not to double tap, from way back 'Cause I know that's where the trouble's at Let me remind you of the days when You used to hold my hand And when we sipped champagne out of cider cans I guess if you were Lois Lane, I wasn't Superman Just a young boy tryin' to be loved So let me give it to ya

I watched an amused smile tug at the corner of John’s mouth as he listened intently to the words. He didn’t feel the strong urge to hunt down Kyle anymore, which I felt was a good thing. He simply wasn’t worth John’s time and energy. So, the song was like one big joke to John.

I don't wanna know about your new man 'Cause if it was meant to be You wouldn't be callin' me up tryin' to 'Cause I'm positive that he don't wanna know about me I don't wanna know about your new man We'll get there eventually I know you're missin' all this kind of love But I'm positive that he don't wanna know about me

Your new man rents a house in the 'burb And wears a man bag on his shoulder, but I call it a purse Every year, he goes to Málaga with all the fellas Drinks beer, but has a six pack, I'm kinda jealous He wears sunglasses indoors, in winter, at nighttime And every time a rap song comes on, he makes a gang sign Says "Chune, bwoydem light up the room!" But enough about him, girl, let's talk about you You were the type of girl who sat beside the water readin' Eatin' a packet of crisps, but you will never find you cheatin' Now you're eatin' kale, hittin' the gym Keepin' up with Kylie and Kim In the back of the club, kissin' a boy that ain't him Okay, you need to be alone And if you wanna talk about it, you can call my phone I just thought I would tell you, 'cause you oughta know You're still a young girl tryin' to be loved So let me give it to ya

I rolled my eyes at the lyrics, crossing my arms and sinking further into the seat of the car. John’s hands gripped the wheel tightly for a split second when it vaguely mentioned cheating, but he relaxed quickly when I placed a hand on the back of his neck.

“Who’re Kylie and Kim?” he murmured over the song.

I snorted out a laugh, covering my mouth as his question was so unexpected. A smile spread over his own face as he caught a glimpse of my smile out of the corner of his eye.

I don't wanna know about your new man 'Cause if it was meant to be You wouldn't be callin' me up tryin' to 'Cause I'm positive that he don't wanna know about me I don't wanna know about your new man We'll get there eventually I know you're missin' all this kind of love But I'm positive that he don't wanna know about me

Baby, I'm not tryin' to ruin your week But you act so differently When you're with him, I know you're lonely Please remember you're still free To make the choice and leave Don't call me up, you need to show me I don't wanna know about your new man 'Cause if it was meant to be You wouldn't be callin' me up tryin' to 'Cause I'm positive that he don't wanna know about me I don't wanna know about your new man We'll get there eventually I know you're missin' all this kind of love But I'm positive that he don't wanna know about me But I'm positive that he don't wanna know about But I'm positive that he don't wanna know about I don't wanna know about your new man

I switched the radio off as the song ended, not wanting to hear anything else after that mess. My mood was entirely changed as I sat simmering in anger, which was unavoidable as soon as the song mentioned “me”. My hand had long abandoned John’s neck, now tucked firmly under my other arm as I crossed my arms.

“Y/N, relax,” John’s voice cut through the silence, bringing his hand to my head and rubbing soothingly. “I know the whole thing was bullshit, okay? I trust you.”

I leaned my head into his touch, nodding in response and releasing a heavy sigh. He dropped his hand from my head, grabbing my hand comfortingly and bringing it to his mouth to kiss the back of my hand. John’s house wasn’t far from the beach, so we arrived a few minutes later. We found a secluded spot, spreading out a large blanket to claim the area and setting everything else on top of it. I plopped down next to him, leaning my head on his shoulder as we watched the dog run around along the edge of the water.

“You know, his voice is really fucking annoying,” John said through a chuckle, causing me to laugh along with him.

“Oh, I know.”

“Are we going to talk about him stalking you on Instagram?” John growled, becoming protective in a split second.

“I honestly didn’t even know, John,” I patted his knee and gazed up at him, a mischievous smile slowly appearing on my face. “But…”

“What?” he asked uncertainly, his mouth wanting to smile involuntarily at the look on my face.

“We could give him something to look at.”

John tilted his head at me, narrowing his eyes in thought, “Lay down on your stomach.”

We rearranged ourselves, so we were both laying on our stomachs next to each other, propped up on our elbows. I stuck my arm out and opened the app, turning my head to look at John, “Kiss me.”

“My face?” he wondered.

“Cover it,” I shrugged.

He thought over possibilities, then licked his lip and nodded when he thought of a suitable one. He leaned into me, kissing me so tenderly that I nearly forgot to take a picture. I didn’t notice his hand move toward the phone or his eye open to guide his hand into place. When I finally remembered to press the capture button, he was already set up. We separated after a few more stolen kisses, immediately bringing the phone to my face to see the photo.

“Jonathan!” I exclaimed, dropping my head and laughing into the blanket. In the photo, covering his face except where his mouth met mine, was a huge middle finger.

“All covered,” he chuckled, kissing my head and standing up to rip is shirt over his head. “Come on!” he called out to me while chasing after the dog.

I shook my head as I watched him run off, hovering my fingers over the keyboard as I decided what to write.

“Trust me, he knows about you and he’s not impressed, bro. #FuckYouKyle #NewMan #AssholeIsNOTbleached #HeKnowsWhatHisTattoosMean #ImSureHesBeenToMalagaBeforeIDK #NoManPurseButHisTacticalBeltIsHotAsFuck #BurbonIsBetterThanBeer #IAteHalfAPackOfBaconThisMorning”

I clicked “post”, tossed my phone in the bag we brought with us, and ran after John and the dog; satisfied with the level of pettiness I put into the caption. I nearly tackled John as I ran into the waist deep water, but he recovered and lifted me easily. His mouth fused to mine as he took us deeper into the water and I knew there was no place I’d rather be. Yea, fuck you, Kyle.

Taglist: @futuristic-imbecile @anita-e-taylor @beyondantares @samanthagraceg @cuttlefishcatfish @gwenebear

[quiveringbunny]

You Can’t Afford Him (Olicity fanfic, rated M) - Chapter 2

Here is Chapter 2 of my fic. 

If you missed Chapter 1, you can read it here on Tumblr. 

If you prefer reading on Ao3, here are links to:

Chapter 1       Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

“Archer, meet Celeste Chen, who has impeccable taste in shoes and her fellow, Myles Crofton.”

Without missing a beat, Myles piped up. “I’m told she also has impeccable taste in boyfriends.”

At the utterance of their target’s name, Oliver had tightened his grip around Felicity, just enough for her to notice. Then he offered his hand to the arm’s dealer with a perfect playboy grin.

“Good to meet you, Myles.”

Myles offered the universal head nod that could have meant yes or the feeling is mutual. As with so many wealthy people, much was left to be interpreted.

“Panda told us you’ve had some bother with your luggage.”

“That’s right,” Oliver sighed. “Can you believe it?” He tried to seem put upon without coming off a complete dick so early in their interaction. If these two didn’t like him, they might shut down the obvious opening that Felicity had created for them.

“And since our room isn’t ready,” Felicity added, leaning into Oliver’s sizable shoulder, “it seemed like the good idea to spread a little cryptocurrency around the shops, although I guess since it’s all virtual it doesn’t actually spread.”

Oliver held his breath. He loved Felicity’s rambles, but he didn’t know if they translated well in other cultures. His worries dissipated when Celeste chuckled and Myles cracked a smile. He watched the woman tug on her man’s sleeve and then give him a questioning look. Myles took note, shook his head, then wordlessly wandered away, raising his phone to his ear. Oliver was curious, but forced himself to remain partially attentive to the half of the couple that remained. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Myles. On his first call, everything seemed fine. Then, it was as though he was talking to someone else because he looked agitated. He didn’t raise his voice so they could hear, but he was seething for a moment.

“Archer, I know this is Panda’s first visit to Macau. What about you?”

“I have a recollection of passing through once with my family, but it was decades ago. So much has changed since then. It’s incredible now. The architecture. The energy. The beautiful women,” he added pointedly. Felicity raised an eyebrow at him, at which he became very serious. “And by that I mean that Panda wasn’t here, so it was much less attractive then.”

The two of them studied each other for a moment, then Felicity playfully prodded Oliver’s ribs.

“Good recovery there,” Celeste volunteered.

“Yes,” Felicity smirked. “My hero.”

“Do you two have any dinner plans tonight? We would love for you to join us.”

Felicity looked up at Oliver, her eyes twinkling. They needed to play it cool, but she really wanted to pump her fist in the air at this moment.

“We don’t have plans tonight, do we Baby?” Felicity looked up at Oliver with a warm smile.

“I think we do now, PandaBear. That is very kind of you, Celeste,” Oliver offered the woman a genuine smile. “I hope I won’t be overdressed,” he added, looking down at his tuxedo.

“Nonsense,” Celeste replied. “It’s perfect.” She then directed her gaze to Felicity. "You have excellent taste, Panda."

Oliver felt Felicity’s hand slip between his shirt and his jacket and rest near his heart. He hoped she couldn’t feel it beating more violently than usual. What had gotten into her? The touching? Apparently Pandora Fleece was a lot more handsy than Felicity Smoak. He hadn’t even begun to process their earlier kiss. And what was that about Felicity having good taste? Before Oliver could question or protest, he was interrupted.

“That would be lovely,” Felicity responded to the other woman while softly running her fingers against Oliver’s expensive shirt-covered abs.

Just then, Myles returned and took the hand of his beautiful Celeste. He wasn’t the only one who could be affectionate. Of course, the Americans were always a little too obvious about it in public. Celeste studied his face for information.

“I have had a word with the desk. Just go see the concierge. He will be looking after you personally.”

Felicity and Oliver expressed enthusiasm for their host’s kindness.

“No problem,” Myles replied. “One of the benefits of owning the place.”

“Oh, wow.” Felicity feigned surprise. She could not let on how much they already knew about the man. They were, after all, just tourists.

“Thank you,” Oliver added, “that’s very kind.” He offered his hand again with a sincere smile. Myles took it.

“Don’t mention it.” Myles turned to Celeste. “Darling, I am now running late for a meeting and I’m told the art consultant is upstairs. I’m afraid we are going to have to try this shirt thing another day.”

“Of course,” Celeste sighed. “Panda, I’ll have dinner details sent to your room.”

“That’s wonderful, Celeste. We are looking forward to it.”

xoxoxo

Once they had settled the details with Javier regarding the final purchase, arrangements were made to have Archer’s clothing sent up to their room via the hotel concierge. Throughout the transaction, the two generally avoided eye contact. There was much to be said, much to explain, but it had to wait until they were in private.

The two proceeded to the concierge station near the front desk and were greeted enthusiastically by a middle-aged woman named Kim who had jet black hair with a shock of white on one side. She smiled warmly and apologized far too much for inconveniencing them. When she signaled for them to follow her away from the desk, they realized she was going to escort them to their room herself. The two exchanged curious looks as they proceeded up an elevator to the 25th floor. The woman finally led them down a gold and red-hued hallway to a very opulent door. She swiped a metal card and it unlocked with a decisive click.

It was a suite. Not a junior suite like at the Marriott with a fold out couch, a sad desk in the corner and a couple of bottles of water. It was a full-fledged apartment, suitable for hosting visiting dignitaries. If they were sultans. The space had a dark Arabian Nights kind of vibe. Felicity found herself gawping, legit gawping, as the woman provided the grand tour of the rooms and amenities. Huge sitting area with tall windows. Massive bedroom with gigantic bed. Check. Large sitting room with fainting couch off the bedroom. Crazy fancy bathroom with a huge soaking tub and a rain shower. Check. Second fancy bathroom. Check. Pillows. Pillows. Pillows. Everywhere. Flowers. A chilled bottle of wine placed in a cooler on a wet bar. It just became more ridiculous with every moment.

“Excuse me, Kim. This is truly amazing, but it definitely isn’t what I reserved.”

“Yes, Miss Fleece. Mr. Crofton would like you to stay in this suite. It is one he sets aside for his and Miss Celeste’s friends.”

“I am speechless,” spoke the young woman, who had eyeballed some of the finest accommodations in Las Vegas when she was young.

“Thank you,” Oliver volunteered, seeing the woman to the door. “This was a very generous gesture. We are so very grateful.”

The woman explained that she would have their purchases brought up when they were available and would call with details of their dinner plans. Oliver thanked the woman again and was grateful that tipping was not standard practice in Macau for this particular service, as he didn’t have any cash in his pocket.

Once the woman was gone, Oliver kept staring at the closed door, collecting his thoughts before he turned to see Felicity sitting tentatively on an opulent couch, her chin resting on her hands. He considered his next move carefully and then acted swiftly, as he always did.

Oliver moved across the carpet and sat right down next to Felicity, invading her personal space. His warm body and even hotter breath tickled her ear and she gasped. The look in his eye was curious, even to her, and she had seen all of his expressions - or so she thought. It was like he wanted her. But that couldn’t be right. Just as she became uncomfortable with his gaze and attempted to shift away, Oliver grabbed her arm and whispered into her ear.

“Can you sweep the rooms without anyone knowing?”

Felicity let out a relieved and in no small way disappointed sign and nodded. Soon, she was grabbing her phone from her bag and touring their digs again, chatting mindlessly about the decor and the amenities, all the while checking for listening devices and cameras. It was unlikely their space would be monitored, but Oliver was right. It was good to check. After her circuit, she ended up in front of her partner, who was standing at a bank of windows, looking out on the Macau harbor in the afternoon sun.

“It’s clean,” she announced, brightly.

“Good.” His voice was flat. Tired, perhaps. But there was more to it. “I’m going to rest.”

With that, Oliver walked into the bedroom, past the bed and into the sitting room. He disappeared behind a closed door, leaving Felicity alone and unsure of what had just happened.

xoxoxo

Felicity knew something was off with Oliver. He hadn’t said more than a few words to her after they left Dolce & Gabbana and then he seemed to want to ditch her the moment they got into their insanely beautiful suite after looking at her with expressions she couldn’t decipher. Now he was asleep. An afternoon nap also seemed uncharacteristic of Oliver, but they had been traveling for 24 hours and it wasn’t unreasonable to imagine he could be wiped out.

Not knowing what to do next, Felicity first jumped on her tablet and made the necessary changes to their backstory support on the web to accommodate a quick alteration in cover stories, just in case. She also did some snooping on Celeste and soon discovered she was a very sought-after debutante in Hong Kong before coupling up with Myles Crofton.

A knock at the door signaled the delivery of numerous bags from the dress shop and D&G. Felicity had the stewards litter the living area with them.

Eventually, the lure of the amazing soaking tub in the master bath became a distraction. Felicity  gathered up her purchases and took up residence in what amounted to a marble temple. She helped herself to some of the high-end bath products that were provided on the counter, slipped into the tub, and finally felt herself decompressing from the many sharp turns of the day. But every time her mind started to clear, her thoughts drifted to that kiss.

What had possessed her to do it? Was an epic lip-lock really necessary to sell their cover at that point? Or had she done it to mark her territory — as if Oliver Queen was hers? Felicity debated with herself about it for quite some time and then decided that, yes, the smooch had quickly and definitively established the credibility of their cover to the target of their mission and created greater potential for mission success since it led to an invitation to socially engage with said target.

Yep. That’s exactly what it did. The fact that Oliver’s lips felt so hot and strong against hers, while remaining curiously soft was irrelevant, as was the way he smelled — woodsy and masculine — even though he had been cooped up on a plane for a day. She could almost still feel it reverberating on her mouth. Imagine what an actual kiss with Oliver Queen might feel like, if a fake one had her knees buckling in a designer clothing store! She couldn’t bring herself to entertain that thought. Oliver wouldn’t kiss someone he could care about. She had to remember that.

Felicity also needed to remind herself that allowing her feelings to take over could be dangerous for her heart. And they were already surrounded by physical danger just being there in Hong Kong, thousands of miles away from home, trying to wheedle their way into the private business of a man who made an impressive fortune buying and selling devastating weapons. That man might have even procured Mirakuru and the potential to raise and army of nearly invincible killers.

This was simply no time to moon over her infuriating and attractive partner. There it was - the crux of her situation, clear as day. Lives could be at stake, Smoak. Pandora Fleece and Archer Middleton were just the masks they needed to wear to be heroes now.

After a solid soak, Felicity emerged from the water with a clearer head. She was back on mission now. Hyper-focused. Once she had finished fretting, she spent twenty solid minutes considering various scenarios that could transpire with Myles Crofton and devising ways to use them to gain access to his sensitive data. Ew. That sounded a little sexual. Her mind always found the worst ways to say something.

Her first task was to fix her hair. She couldn’t decide how she would wear it for the evening. Up? Down? Straight? Curly. Being a lady uncover was not easy. She stared at herself in the mirror and grimaced.

Felicity distracted herself from the dilemma by rooting through the luxuriously-packed boutique bags and pulling out items she had sourced hours before. This included a flat box. Inside, there were three pairs of red satin panties nestled inside cream-colored tissue paper. Three. Huh. She had asked for just two pairs, but maybe Margot was feeling generous.

At first she snorted at them. Silly scraps of fabric. But then she reconsidered. Maybe they would be good luck. She could definitely use some if they were going to be successful on their mission. Who was she to turn down potential good fortune?

Relenting, she soon discovered she had underestimated them. Those ridiculous panties. How they would make her feel when she slipped them on. But the satin was perfect and rubbed deliciously against her skin. Looking at herself in the mirror…admiring herself…Felicity felt sexy and powerful. She didn’t know she needed this. God bless Margot.  

Still not sure what to do with her hair, she decided to do her makeup next. But she would need to retrieve her purse from the living area sofa first. She enveloped herself in a plush white terry robe emblazoned with the logo of the hotel and emerged into the master bedroom.

Her breath was stolen when she found Oliver sitting on the edge of the bed, facing the bathroom door. He was wearing his tuxedo, but was currently foregoing the jacket.  His tie was missing and his top shirt buttons open. His posture was deflated until he saw her and sat up straight. He didn’t speak. He just looked at her, carefully, studying her while Felicity tightened the belt on her robe and attempted to settle her breathing.

Neither of them spoke for the longest time. Felicity was waiting for Oliver to say something, perhaps to reveal what seemed to have him out of sorts earlier. Meanwhile, the Arrow’s face reflected a heavy storm, one that he couldn’t find the words to express.

“I…I just needed my purse,” she finally stammered, gesturing toward the main room. Suddenly, she was moving, scooting out to collect her bag.

Oliver’s eyes followed her as she rushed out of the room and snagged her purse from the coffee table. She returned wordlessly, steering herself back toward the bathroom. This felt beyond awkward.

“I was going to ask your opinion about how to wear my hair but since you don’t seem to be speaking to me…” she muttered, her back to him as she headed to the door. Then she heard his voice rumble, quiet and deep.

“Down.” He cleared his throat. “Your hair looks nice just like that.”

Felicity stopped and turned around.

“Okay,” she whispered.

Their staring contest reconvened. Oliver was winning like Secretariat.

xoxoxo

Oliver had woken up from a short, but deep nap in the late afternoon and then brooded in a sitting room for at least an hour. Maybe two. Every that had happened earlier in the day with Felicity in the boutique played over and over in his head. He still hadn’t talked to her about the events that led to an apparent role reversal in their cover stories.

How had she connected with Myles Crofton so quickly and made such an impression that they were already invited to dine with him and his girlfriend? The obvious answer was…it was Felicity. She was remarkable, after all. He should have known better by now to even wonder. But he was still curious.

And then there was the damn kiss. She completely surprised him with that move. He knew it was probably necessary to establish some kind of relationship with Crofton and Celeste, but it was unexpected and unsettling. He really needed to talk to her.

He opened the door to the bedroom and realized she was using the bathroom. Rather than interrupt her, he wandered out into the living area and found the bags containing the purchases from Dolce & Gabbana. He took them to the extra bathroom before indulging in a relaxing shower.

After getting cleaned up, Oliver began digging through the bags. The shop had been aware of his luggage predicament and added a number of items he might need. There was a sample of aftershave and even a simple pair of pajamas. He didn’t wear pajamas, but maybe he should start. It appeared that the hotel had also chipped in some extra toiletries so he could trim his beard.

Oliver finished dressing, except for his jacket and tie, and wandered around the main room of the suite. Okay, he was pacing, considering what he wanted to say to Felicity and whether or not he could actually express himself, even if he got his shit together, as well as worrying that any kind of conversation now might be counterproductive to the mission. A dangerous mission.  Eventually, he ended up sitting in the bedroom directly across from the bathroom door, slumping a little in his designer clothes. It occurred to him that if Thea could see him, she’d give him all kinds of shit for wrinkling the Dolce.

It’s funny when you are waiting for something to happen and then when it does, you are still surprised. That’s how Oliver felt when the bathroom door swung open and Felicity emerged, barefoot and enveloped in a hotel robe. Suddenly, the situation, the job, felt so intimate. This was Felicity like she might be at home in the morning getting ready for work or dressing for a date with someone who wasn’t him.

And he had no words. Everything he had been going over in his head earlier seemed pointless and petty. All she had to do was stand there and look at him. Like that. He could tell when she blanched that he was probably making her uncomfortable with his silence. He knew that Felicity hated pregnant pauses. It was like her brain wanted to switch on and begin ruminating on a problem or a piece of code, but it couldn’t because there might be some pending exchange.

Felicity appeared to wait a moment, then she rushed into the other room. Something about her purse. Oliver took a steadying breath, no longer under scrutiny. Get it together Queen.

When Felicity came back into the room, she didn’t engage with him at all, but rather headed for the bathroom.

“I was going to ask your opinion about how to wear my hair but since you don’t seem to be speaking to me…” she said quietly.

Something in him cracked at that comment. It wasn’t that he wasn’t speaking to her. He simply didn’t know what…how to say anything when she was right there, shimmering like a terrycloth mirage.

She sounded offended. Say something, Queen. She never asked him how he liked her hair before and in all honesty, he liked it however she wore it. Wait? Did she say something about him not speaking to her?

“Down.” He choked out. “Your hair looks nice just like that.”

Felicity stopped moving forward. She pivoted and looked right into his eyes, surprised.  

“Okay,” she whispered, tilting her head.  

A force — Oliver really had no idea what it was, or he didn’t want to name it — pulled him up off the bed and drew him toward her at the doorway like a magnet. And now she was looking up at him, her blue eyes blazing with curiosity.

“Why did you think…I wasn’t…I didn’t know. I didn’t know what to say,” he exhaled, towering over her, but still seeming soft and sincere.

“Usually I’m the babbler, Oliver. That’s my thing. You wear the leather and put the fear of God in people.”

Felicity followed up her statement with a sweet smile, trying to defuse what had quickly become a tense moment. Oliver let out a breathy chuckle and looked at the ceiling to gather himself.

“I do that, don’t I?”

“You do, although if I’m being honest, I prefer you doing the former to the latter because leather is, you know,” she grinned, “hot and fear of God gets kind of arrowy and there’s blood. Not that it’s your blood. I mean, actually, usually it’s somebody else’s but it’s still gross and gets all over the leather, which is good.”

Oliver was shaking his head now. God, she was adorable.

“And I’m babbling again. Oliver you have to stop me when…”

“Felicity,” he spoke sharply. Then he grasped her arms at her elbows, holding her still. He had her attention now. “Earlier, you kissed me.”

Felicity’s eyes slammed shut for a moment. She couldn’t run, but she was definitely thinking about it. “I know. I’m sorry I couldn’t explain what was happening, but when I met Celeste we talked about cryptocurrency and it was a crazy coincidence that her boyfriend was involved in it and she wanted me to meet him and then there he was…freaking Myles Crofton himself and it felt like an unexpected opportunity and I should run with it.”

When her eyes opened, he was studying her face, looking at her with unexpected warmth.

“Felicity, look at me.” Oliver left hand disengaged from her arm and he gently placed his palm against her cheek. Felicity’s eye’s fluttered open.

“When we were at the house and I needed to get Slade,” Oliver said with a quiet, deliberate tone, “I said something to you…”

“It was just for the mission,” she volunteered, trying to button down her expression, which likely still reflected disappointment. “You gave me the syringe.”

Oliver shook his head and he sighed.

“It’s alright, Oliver. We have to say things sometimes that we don’t mean.”

“The natural thing for me to do to really sell the plan to Slade would have been to kiss you.”

Felicity avoided his glance as heat rose on her face. He was still cupping her jaw against his hand and she was enjoying that feeling. It was tender. Sweet.

“But I didn’t want to do that,” he continued. Felicity turned her eyes up to meet his. If he was going to deliver bad news, they should just get it over with so she could go back in the bathroom and fall apart alone.

“Felicity, I’ve kissed a lot of girls. You could wallpaper a room with pictures from the tabloids of me doing thoughtless things and making an exhibitionist ass out of myself back before the island. But I’m different now. I didn’t want the first time I kissed you to be a ruse. I wanted it to be perfect and, just…I thought if it was ever going to happen, I wanted it to be real and I didn’t want to share that moment with anyone but you.”

His beautiful partner’s eyes grew wider as she processed what he was saying.

“Oh. Oh, you wanted to…” her expression morphed from surprise to devastation. “Oh God. Did I ruin it? I did, didn’t I? I shouldn’t have…”

Her voice trailed and room became silent except for the hum of the air conditioning system.

Oliver watched Felicity’s eyes started to fill with moisture. His pulse rose with concern. The last thing he wanted to do was upset her. He leaned down and his eyes shined at her in a way he had never allowed in the past.

“No,” he rasped. “It was just practice. For this.”

Then he wrapped one arm around her shoulder and the other circled her waist, rubbing against the soft terrycloth belt of her robe. He tugged her closer and lowered his mouth to hers, seeking her lips with the lightest of touches.

When he felt her her body press against his, the anxiety in him relaxed a little. Then she tilted her head to find the perfect angle to answer his kiss and his heart surged beneath his crisp, linen shirt. Time slowed and Felicity’s purse met the ground with a dull, quiet, thud.

Oliver was barely aware that he was moving them, stepping back to the bed, lifting her and draping her across his lap as he sat down. He memorized everything from the exotic perfume of the soap she wore to the whimper she made when he reluctantly pulled away and rested his nose against the soft pink shell of her ear.

“Wow,” she gasped, followed by a “meep” noise signaling she had meant to keep that comment internal. Soon, Oliver’s body was shaking with a laugh he tried to stifle by pulling her closer.

“Yes, wow,” he added, honestly, and also to assure she didn’t feel alone in expressing appreciation because it was the best first kiss he’d ever had. It was the last first kiss he ever wanted. But he kept that to himself for now.

Now, they had a serious mission. As much as he wanted to set that aside and focus on the woman in his arms, he knew that. Oliver took a step back but continued to hold her.

“Oliver.”

“We should probably try to focus on tonight now. This dinner with Crofton. The sooner we get it done, the sooner we can talk about this and lots of other things.”

Felicity studied his face and the way the corners of his mouth were turning up. He was right. She gave him a definitive nod.

“Why don’t you go in there and finish getting ready?” he added.

“Okay,” she sighed and ambled to stand.

“Then you can tell me about our new covers, although I gather you are the lead on this now and I’m the boyfriend.”

Felicity headed toward the bathroom, picking up her handbag along the way. She stopped when she got to the doorway and bit her lip. If she wasn’t still flushed from the kiss, he might have noticed her sheepish look.

“Oliver…”

“You did the right thing. I’m not thrilled that you are more involved than we planned, but you made the right call. And we’re partners. Sometimes that means that you’ll be the one out in front and I have to make peace with that. I’ll still worry, but you are remarkable. No matter what happens, I never forget that.”

“Partners.” Felicity smiled at him, warmth and pride filling her. “Thank you.”

Oliver beamed back at her and leaned back on the bed, supported by his elbows.

Just as she was about to close the door, she peeked out. “I’ll wear my hair like this.”

Good, he mouthed to her.

“And it’s possible Celeste is under the impression that you are my boy toy.” She quickly shut the door, leaving Oliver to process her words and their ramifications.

“Felicity,” he groaned, then flopped against the bed.  

[dekinswritings]

L1-L1 WH80 - Chapter 5, Beer

"Traditionally brewed beer has become a luxury, but this one's pretty close to the real deal..."

VA-11 HALL-A AU. HonoUmi. NicoMaki.

Word count: 5.9k

[Ao3] [FF.net]

“Umi-chan, you’ve been starin’ at the counter for a whole minute now. If you just wanted my company that badly, you could’ve just asked.”

“S-Sorry.” Had it really been that long? Umi had asked Nozomi for a word as they finished opening the bar tonight, but now words failed to come out of her mouth. Where did she even start? Umi did not know about relationships, crushes or anything at all regarding love. Just thinking of the word made her heart run at a marathon pace and her cheeks turn red like Adelhyde.

“Clearly we’re not getting anywhere if you can’t focus, so concentrate and gimme a Mercuryblast,” Nozomi said as she swiped her card for the transaction.

“Right, Mercuryblast.” Nozomi was right, her train of thought was somehow going through several different rails at neck-breaking speeds. A Mercuryblast, one Adelhyde, one Bronson Extract, three Powdered Delta, three Flanergide and two Karmotrine. All on the rocks and blended. Umi stared at the blue mix as she poured it into its glass. Hadn’t Honoka ordered one of these? She even tried to make a dumb joke about it too. The blue also kind of reminded her of Honoka’s eyes, but the color was not quite right, it should be a deeper tone. Why was Umi suddenly so aware of this drink? And not to mention that-

“Umi.” Nozomi’s voice snapped Umi out of her thoughts and handed the drink to her boss. “So, what did you want to talk about?” Nozomi asked as she swayed her drink in a circular motion.

“I-I figured that you might have… more experience about this sort of topic,” Umi started and, to keep her hands from trembling, grabbed the first glass her hands found and started to clean it, the cloth wiping it faster with each stroke.

In other circumstances, Nozomi would have poked fun at the fact that Umi had ran out of dirty glasses and was simply occupying her hands out of anxiety. Instead, she put down her drink and listened intently.

“And even if you don’t have that much experience on it, even a little bit would be sufficient. I-I myself have not experienced it before, and I consider you a good friend and someone I can talk about this. N-Not like Rin isn’t a good friend either! But… this requires a bit more subtlety and I’d rather not have her talk about this to every client she serves and…”

Nozomi simply listened, and she considered a pretty good listener at that, but Umi had started rambling and dodging whatever she wanted to talk about. “Umi,” she called out for the second time.

Hearing her name again almost made her jump. “D-Did I start ramble?”

“Are you gonna have sex? Is this what this is about?”

If the glasses provided by the BTC had not been made as sturdy as they were, Umi’s grip would have certainly cracked and broken the glass she had been wiping right in her hands. “N-No!” Umi yelled, startling both Nozomi and Rin, who was standing on the other side of the bar. “It’s not about sex!”

“Well, what’s got you so worked up then?”

“It’s Honoka-!” The words slipped out of her mouth before she could catch them. Instead of being met with a smug and playful grin from Nozomi followed by a teaseful joke, Umi found a gentle smile on Nozomi’s smile.

“Honoka, huh? So you finally put the pieces together?”

“T-The pieces? What are you talking about?” Umi put down the glass, knowing that it would eventually crack if she kept it in her hands.

“That you like her.”

Umi managed to keep her mouth shut and only made a muffled scream that was tame enough to not make Rin think that someone was getting murdered inside the bar. Thinking about it made her cheeks red, but hearing it from Nozomi heated up her entire face. “Y-Y-Yes, that… was I wanted to talk about.”

“So, what’re you planning to do?” Nozomi asked as she gently poked her drink.

“W-What do you mean what am I planning to do? I don’t know what I’m supposed to do!” Umi was starting to regret asking Nozomi for help. Was she not supposed to be wise, or at least a little bit knowledgeable about these kind of things? “I’m at a loss,” Umi said defeatedly.

“Well, do you wanna go out with her?”

“W-Well…” Umi blushed at the fact that now she was imagining Honoka, walking with her hand in hand. Embarrassment turned into a smile when she pictured Honoka smiling. “Y-Yes, I would.”

“Then just tell her,” Nozomi said curtly and began to drink her Mercuryblast.

Had all the time running a bar with marginal profit finally gotten to her boss? Or was she always this crazy? “I-I can’t just tell her!”

“And why not? I thought you wanted to go out with Honoka.” Nozomi only stopped drinking to talk and immediately continued with her Mercuryblast.

“Because what if she… what if she rejects me?” The thought stung much more than what Umi would have liked. “I… I don’t wish to make things uncomfortable. A-And she has a girlfriend already...”

“Oh, does she?” Nozomi raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

“W-Well… I wouldn’t say I’m completely sure she has one, but that designer did seem to be her girlfriend,” Umi explained and sighed.

“Umi-chan, oh Umi-chan. You’re lookin’ at your cup half-empty again,” Nozomi shook her head. “A maiden in love shouldn’t be brooding! She should be gleefully happy, with butterflies in her stomach.”

“I do feel like I’m going to throw up,” Umi mumbled.

“Cheer up, Umi-chan. You’ve got nothing to worry about, you’re just overthinking yourself to death as per usual. You don’t have to tell Honoka, but the more time you let pass, the more it’ll gnaw at your head and the worse those butterflies in there will get,” Nozomi explained before getting up and offering her worker the now-empty glass. At least she now had something to actually clean. “Chin up, we’ve got a customer coming. I’ll be in my office,” Nozomi bid her farewell with a smile.

“And hey, if you really want that relationship, in the long run it really is about sex!”

Nozomi had taken refuge in the confines of her office too quickly and the steel shaker bottle that Umi threw in a blink of an eye panged against the office door instead of her boss’s face.

Umi glared at the door for a few moments before sighing and walking out of her station to pick up her shaker. Even if the conversation had seemed short and even moot, Nozomi was right: Umi would eventually need to talk to Honoka about this, her feelings were not going to simply disappear.

Once back in her station, Umi wiped the shaker as she began to ponder. She needed to come up with a plan. First, she should clarify what was the relationship between Honoka and Kotori. As much as it pained her to think that there was one in the first place, it would certainly put a quick end to this ordeal. There are plenty of people out there in Neo Tokyo that Umi had yet to meet after all. Going out to meet them seemed like a pain though, and none of the people who came to Lily White shone as bright as the police officer. Umi cursed internally, she was still overthinking everything like Nozomi had said, and she was not getting anywhere. She was in dire need of a distraction, something to clear her mind. More than ever before Umi cursed the lack of customers in the bar-

“Hello?”

Umi had lost count how many times she had failed to notice people in front of her tonight. Looking up, Umi saw Maki sitting in front of her, her designer clothes halfway hidden by contrastingly white coat she wore over them.

“Oh, um, welcome to Lily White,” were all the words that Umi managed to mutter out. With the way things had gone last time Umi saw the doctor, she was certain that she would not come back ever again.

“Uh, yeah,” Maki seemed almost as distracted as the bartender as she looked around the bar. “Has that Lilim come back?”

“E-Excuse me?” Maki’s sudden question caught Umi off-guard. “Do you know Hanayo?”

“Wha- Hanayo?” The doctor repeated in confusion before shaking her head. “No, I meant the idol. The singing robot.”

“Oh, Nico,” Umi should have realized sooner. “No, you made sure to scare her off.” The memories of that night were still fresh in her mind, of how unnerving it had been to discover that Lilim could be that upset.

“O-Oh.” Maki raised one hand to one of her bangs and started to twirl it. She was not sporting a ponytail this time, Umi noticed. In fact, all of her appearance seemed less taken care of, her clothes had wrinkles under the coat and even her makeup did a poor job to conceal the dark eyebags on her face. “A Sunshine Cloud, please.”

Umi nodded and began to prepare her ingredients. As she poured the halves of Adelhyde and Bronson Extract, Umi decided it was for the best to keep the client sober and refrained from adding any alcohol. “I presumed you wouldn’t be coming back,” Umi commented as the drink blended.

“Work’s been more stressful than usual, so I needed a drink,” Maki explained once the blending process was over.

“It has been getting colder, so I'm guessing more people come in with a cold,” Umi chit chatted as she finished preparing Maki’s drink.

“It’s a private hospital, people don’t come to us just for a cold,” Maki denied Umi’s idea as she took her glass. “I’ve been having problems focusing and concentrating.”

“And you thought coming for alcohol would help you with that,” Umi deadpanned.

“Yes,” Maki agreed and was about to take her first sip before slamming her drink onto the counter. “No, wait, no! That’s not what I came here for!”

Umi was impressed: she had not even started to drink and she was stammering already. “Why do you come to a bar if not to drink then?”

“T-That’s none of your business,” Maki mumbled before starting on her drink.

Umi had never been as good at reading people as Nozomi but years of experience had taught her enough to see through the red haired doctor. She had probably come to offer an apology, to her if not to Nico. It was a shame that the idol never came back, as annoying as she was. She did seem to genuinely care for the things she loved, like her family. Umi had not picked it up at first, but thinking back on those previous days made her realize the small changes in the Lilim’s demeanor when she talked about those things.

“So she really hasn’t come back?” Maki asked again, her glass lying empty on the counter. Her voice showed a cocktail of feelings, one too familiar for Umi when she had to deal with people who had tried to drown their problems with booze, but Maki was completely sober.

“Do I have a reason to lie about it?” Umi asked as she inspected Maki’s expression. It seemed vacant at first glance, but Umi knew better. “No, she hasn’t.”

Maki took a deep breath and let it out with long groan. “Great, I made sure to come early tonight in the hopes of finding her and apparently she’s been long gone. I won’t be able to concentrate fully in my work, I’ll probably have to put off some appointments and…” Maki’s rant grew quieter until her words her an inaudible mumble for Umi. “Grizzly Temple.” Her voice picked up just to order another drink.

Umi could not remember when was the last time someone had ordered a Grizzly Temple without a hint of irony in their voice. According to many, Umi included, it was one of the worst drinks in the BTC menu. Three Adelhyde, three Bronson Extract, three Powdered Delta and one Karmotrine. All blended. Once poured into its glass, Umi handed the order.

“Look, if you really want to apologize,” Umi started as she dug her phone out of her pocket, “she gave us her contact details.” Under normal circumstances, Umi would have never shared private information of her clients to other clients, but she did not want to witness another fight like that again. At least not in the bar.

“W-Who said I wanted to apologize to her,” Maki mumbled defensively before sipping her drink.

“So you don’t want it?” Umi took out a pen and was ready to write on a piece of paper. Taking a sneaky glimpse, she saw Maki staring intently.

“I-I never said that, just give me the number.”

Umi managed to control her eye roll and simply shook her head as she began to write Nico’s contact information.

“Officer Kousaka Honoka, presenting for duty!” Honoka’s loud announcement of her arrival made Maki jump in her seat as she pocketed the scrap of paper. The police officer cheerfully walked to the empty seat next to Maki and waved at Umi. The doctor eyed the officer for a brief moment before going back to her drink. “Evening, Umi-chan,” she greeted with a smile.

“A-Ah, Honoka.” Umi found it difficult to keep her face straight when she felt her cheeks flushing. “H-How are you?”

“Hmm, well, I guess I'm fine. Had a scuffle with a guy who didn't want to take his parking ticket.”  She crossed her arms and shook her head disapprovingly. “The nerve of some people!”

“There's a fair share of people who'll refuse to pay additional fees,” Umi pointed out, “money can come short when basic necessities become more expensive every once in a while.” Umi knew better than anyone else about the importance of saving.

“A parking citation is basically pocket change,” Maki chirped in offhandedly before sipping her drink.

“Wow, you must be some kind of rich doctor.” Honoka’s joke only got a raised eyebrow from Maki. “A Beer please! Oh, and I’m Honoka, by the way.”

Maki inspected the officer once more before presenting herself. “Maki,” was all she said.

“Well Maki-chan, it’s a pleasure!”

“Wha- hey! Who told you you can address me so casually?” Maki asked defensively.

“Well, you only gave me a name to work with.” Honoka laughed and scratched the back of her head. “Would you prefer it if I was rude to you?”

“What’re you saying? You’re making no sense,” Maki mumbled and tried to take another sip before realizing her drink was empty. “Another Grizzly Temple, please.” Umi nodded and started to prepare Maki’s order as she finished Honoka’s.

“Yuck, Grizzly Temple, Beer’s definitely the way to go,” Honoka said to herself as she took her Beer and swayed it side to side like an excited child.

“Excuse me?” Maki turned to Honoka and glared; the doctor frowned even more when she saw how Honoka was too busy happily drinking her Beer to even notice her. “What’s wrong with a Grizzly Temple?”

“Hm?” Honoka put down her drink and looked at Maki in confusion. “What do you mean? It’s pretty awful-tasting, bitter and bland.”

“And you-”

“Here,” Umi interrupted Maki before things got out of hand and placed her order on the counter. “And you should stop,” she said and glaring at Honoka.

Honoka could only laugh nervously under Umi’s piercing eyes. “Sorry.” Honoka’s apology was vague enough to be directed to both the bartender and the doctor. Maki still looked unconvinced but went back to her drink. Umi was just glad she defused the situation before another fight blew up in front of her.

Umi took a deep breath and started to think. She needed to clear everything with Honoka so she could finally sort out her own feelings. Perhaps not in front of the doctor; hopefully she left before Honoka did.

“Oh hell no.”

Umi looked up to see that Nico had just entered the bar, any pretense of a grandiose entrance gone and replaced by a scowl directed to the doctor.

“Oh, Nico,” was the only thing Umi managed to say. Honoka gasped loudly while Maki looked back at Nico and visibly failing to not scowl back.

“The feeling is mutual,” Maki snarked as Nico walked to the counter, taking a seat next to Honoka. Well, rather than next to Honoka, it would be better described as taking the seat that was not next to Maki’s.

“Well, Nico managed to get a day off so she had planned to wrap it up on a happy note with a couple of drinks! So…” Nico flipped one of her twintails and with a mocking smile she looked at the doctor, “why don’t you just leave?”

“Hi! I’m Honoka, big fan-”

Maki frowned and her finger once more began to twirl with her hair. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to see you-”

“Well, Maki-chan! If you wanted to see Nico sooo badly, why don’t you just lift that mug of yours to look at a billboard or something?”

“Excuse me? I go out of my way to come here to apologize and-”

“Oh, now the oh-so intellectual redhead wants to apologize to Nico! Yeah, and while she’s at it, I’m sure she wants to insult her family, just like she did to her career!”

“Umm.. Umi-chan…” Honoka could not help but to have shrunk her shoulders as the women at her sides began to yell.

“Hey! Take that back! I-”

“Well, where’s my apology? Nico’s waiting-!”

“Enough!” Umi slammed her hands on her mixing station loud enough to silence Nico and Maki. “If you’re going to fight, do it outside. Your pointless bickering is scaring the other customers.”

“Pointless bickering? She’s the one who started it!” Maki huffed and turned away from Nico.

“I-It’s fine, Umi-chan.” Honoka laughed nervously and she slowly sat back up.

“Please don’t kick out Nico? She’s really sorry for getting into another fight with a dumb woman,” Nico apologized before glaring at the doctor.

Umi audibly groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. If this kept on going, she would have to remove both of them from the premises and that would certainly kill any sort of mood for talking with Honoka.

“Um… Maki-chan said she wants to apologize, so why don’t you just let her?” Honoka asked Nico.

“Because she insulted Nico! And she’s so arrogant and full of herself-”

“So what? She came here to apologize. Isn’t that good enough for now?” Honoka pressed on.

“N-No! Because-”

“Because what?” Honoka pressed on. The genuine curiosity in Honoka’s gaze made Nico and her pride falter. Nico tried to come up with something to say but nothing would come out of her voice receptors.

“F-Fine, okay! Nico gets it!” Nico threw her arms in the air before turning away and crossing them. After an annoyed sigh, she turned back to Honoka and Maki. “Fine, Nico’s all ears.”

Honoka turned around to look at Maki, who looked back at her from the corner of her eye before turning away. “And?”

“I-I’m not going to apologize to that robot.”

Nico gasped offendedly, but before she could say anything in return, Honoka interrupted her. “Hey! That wasn’t nice. You said you came here to apologize, so why are you insulting her again?” Maki simply huffed in response. “You’re just giving her an actual reason to be angry now, you know? And then she’s going to leave, then you would’ve come here for nothing, and then you’d feel bad for insulting her again and how you’ll never see her again and-”

“Fine! I get it!” Maki quickly turned around and covered Honoka’s mouth. “Shut up, will you! I’m sorry!”

Honoka leaned back and took a quick glimpse at Nico before going back to Maki. “Sorry to me or her?”

“To her! A-And to you too, I guess,” Maki mumbled as she started to twirl her finger in her hair once more.

Honoka looked at the Lilim, and under her gaze she gave in once more. “Fine, okay. Nico accepts your apology.”

“There! Was that so hard?” Honoka asked with a smile. “Bartender! A round of Beers for everyone!”

“I shouldn’t, but fine. Just this once.”

“Nico won’t say no to a free drink!”

Impressed would be an understatement of how Umi felt about Honoka; she had managed to calm both women and reconcile them despite how stubborn prideful they were. She had been planning to talk with Honoka but she found herself at a lack of words again.

“Three Beers,” Umi mumbled as she placed the three glass mugs on the counter.

Nico looked at the beer curiously, inspecting it from side to side and even lifting the mug to look at its bottom side. “I’ve never had a Beer that wasn’t canned.”

“Canned beers aren’t that bad, but these ones are way better!” Honoka lifted her drink and waved it, spilling a slight bit of its contents.

“In comparison to the ones I prepare, canned beers are watered down,” Umi explained.

“Craft Beer’s better,” Maki mumbled before taking a small sip of her Beer.

“Oh, you’re just full of unnecessary comments, aren’t you?” Nico glared at the doctor for a second before starting to chug her Beer.

“Whoah! That’s the way to go, Nico!” Honoka cheered on the Lilim as she petite girl kept chugging and chugging until the mug was empty. “You’ve got spirits, Nico-chan! That’s what I love about you!”

“Oh, you’re a fan?” Nico was all too pleased of having impressed another fan and smiled. She flipped her hair once, took out a marker and placed it right above the empty mug. “Do you want my autograph?”

“Oh, no no no, I couldn’t-”

“For free! For being such a good crowd for Nico’s Beer drinking.”

“No, I couldn’t have it on Umi-chan’s glass. It’s not mine,” Honoka clarified. Nico was left with her mouth wide open, not in her lifetime had she had an autograph declined for a reason like that. “Oh, you could autograph my phone!” Honoka suggested as she pulled out her phone from her pocket.

“Sure, love! Can Nico get your name?” Nico asked before jotting down her signature in Honoka’s phone. Before handing it back, Nico unlocked the password-less phone, something unfitting for a police officer, Umi thought, and activated its camera. “Wanna take a photo?”

“Oh, yeah! You bet I wanna!” Honoka nodded with excitement and placed her fingers just like Nico did.

“Hey hey, redhead! You too, pose! Get in the shot too, Umi!” Nico commanded rather than asked and the sparkling joy in Honoka’s eyes made it difficult for either of the two women to say no. To get everyone in the shot, Nico got off her seat to get a better angle and Honoka wrapped an arm around Umi’s shoulders to pull her close. Umi could feel the heat rise up to her ears and could barely move to do the Nico’s hand pose or even face the camera. Maki reluctantly put her hands like Nico before the picture was taken.

“Wow, thanks!” Honoka said with excitement as Nico handed back the phone once she made sure to send the picture to herself.

“Don’t mention it.” Nico grinned and patted Honoka’s shoulder. “And you, Maki-chan?”

“W-What?” Maki asked with slight suspicion and put the mug of Beer between her and the Lilim when she approached her.

“Gimme your phone number.”

“What? Why would I do that?”

“So I can send you the photo too, duh.”

“Who said I wanted it?” Maki glared at Nico who seemed unfazed by her defensiveness.

“Stop being so stubborn and give it to Nico! And maybe you can invite Nico somewhere to apologize properly and not in some shoddy bar in the middle of nowhere.” Nico finally glared back.

After a few moments of staring down at each other, Maki sighed and pulled out a card and a pen from her purse. Writing down something on it, she began to wave it at Nico. “Here, take it or leave it.”

Nico snagged the card and began to read it “Dr Nishikino Maki… Nishikino Medical Center… wait, this is a business card!”

“And all of my contact information is there,” Maki pointed out and turned back to the counter.

“You’re gonna have the great Nico Nii book an appointment?!”

“I wrote my phone number on the back of the card, idiot.”

Nico flipped the card. “Oh, and so it is,” Nico mumbled and pocketed the card. “Fine, well, Nico got a free drink and a pretty girl’s number, she’d say it’s been a pretty successful night.” Maki choked on her Beer when she heard Nico’s comment. “Well, Nico should leave. She needs to scout out for a nice and expensive restaurant~,” she cheerfully said her farewell and skipped out of the bar.

“I’m going to regret doing that,” Maki groaned and rested her head on the counter.

“Well, at least you’re not gonna regret not apologizing anymore!” Honoka pointed out and gave Maki a thumbs up.

Maki smiled a little bit. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Umi couldn’t help but to wonder how Nico and Maki’s first interaction would have gone if Honoka had been there.

“Ugh... I need to go,” Maki said as she slowly pulled herself up from the counter. “I have work tomorrow and I hadn’t even planned on drinking too much tonight.” Too much, she says. “It was a pleasure, officer.”

“Please, my friends call me Honoka,” Honoka corrected her and smiled before offering Maki a hand to get up. Maki blushed a little but was drunk enough to swallow her pride and take the help, even if she did not need it.

“It was nice meeting you, Honoka,” Maki said once more and waved at Umi. “Um, thanks for the drinks. They were as good as I remembered them.”

“Thanks for your patronage.”

“Bye bye, Maki-chan!” Honoka waved goodbye at the doctor and turned back to Umi once she was gone. Taking out her phone, she gleefully stared at the autograph. “Man, what a night.”

“You could say that again,” Umi mumbled and, without realizing it found herself staring at Honoka. If only more people could be like her the world would be a much better place.

“I got a selfie with Nico! And her autograph too!” Honoka hummed happily. “I’m glad she didn’t ask me to name some of her songs because I don’t remember any of their titles.” Umi would have laughed if she was not the same, but in her defense she had only heard Nico’s songs once.

Now that the two of them were alone, ignoring Rin on the other side of the bar, Umi had to steel herself for now was her chance. Her chance to find out about everything and if it all went well she could have something to look forward to beside Lily White. All she had to do was clear up all the things Umi did not know about and ask Honoka about her relationship with Kotori. What could be the worst thing that could happen-

“Hm? My relationship with Kotori-chan?”

Umi froze. Had she been thinking out loud all this time? The confused look on Honoka’s face was all the confirmation she needed and this was probably the worst thing that could have happened. How much had she even said? Her thoughts were scrambling to remember anything but the pit that she was suddenly feeling in her stomach could not let her think. Was the bar always been this stuffy? Umi could not breathe no matter how air she tried inhale.

She could only hear faint sounds of Honoka as she stepped away from the counter and out the door to the back alley.

Umi just had to ask. How hard was that? Apparently too hard because everything that could have gone wrong had gone wrong. Nozomi and Rin were right, she overthinks everything and now that had screwed everything up. At least out here she could finally breathe fresh air. Well, at least as fresh as it got in Neo Tokyo, certainly fresher than inside the bar. Umi pressed her back against one of the alley’s wall and slid down just before touching the ground. Hugging her legs, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath of the fresh night air. Fresh and cold air. Temperatures had been dropping with each day and tonight had gotten to the point where one could see their own breath. Umi left her coat inside, but going back to get it right now… Umi could stand in the cold for a couple more minutes. Going back in there after leaving Honoka like that would be-

“Umi-chan? Are you okay?” Honoka walked out of the bar’s back door and into the alley.

“H-Honoka?” Umi quickly stood up and dusted the rear of her skirt. It was not like she was sitting on the floor, but a fetal position was not one she wanted to be seen in. “W-What are you doing here?”

“Your co-worker told me you went out for your break, and when I asked if I could come out here she insisted I gave you a few moments and then gave me your coat too. Here,” Honoka explained and handed Umi her coat. The bartender stared at it dumbfounded for a few seconds before taking it. “Do you have panic attacks frequently?”

“U-Um… no. Last time I had one was before a BTC test back when I was in training…” Umi said as she put on her coat. She felt a slight shiver from its unworn coldness but it was better than not wearing it. Back then, Rin and Nozomi had helped her calm down in time to take the test she had forgotten to study for and in the end she breezed through the test, something she still felt embarrassed about.

“How are you feeling now?” Honoka asked before pressing her back on the wall too, next to Umi.

Umi took another deep breath and watched her breath dissipate in front of her. “Better. Thanks for asking.”

“Hey, don’t mention it.” Despite the cold temperatures, Honoka’s smile warmed Umi as always. Out in the alley actually felt warmer.

Neither spoke another word, falling into a comfortable silence. Only the faint bustling of the city reminded them that there was a whole world out there.

“Thanks for checking up on me, Honoka. A-And sorry for leaving you like that,” Umi apologized.

“It’s fine, it happens to the best of us.” Honoka’s comment made Umi smile. “Kotori-chan has had them sometimes when she stresses too much.”

Kotori again. It felt like a pang on Umi’s insides, but even so, now was the best time to ask her. Finally be able to cope with her feelings.

“U-Um, Honoka?” Honoka looked at Umi with such attentiveness that it almost hurt to make such a strong question. “W-What is your relationship with Kotori?”

“Kotori-chan?” Honoka repeated with a confused look. “Well… we’ve been friends for a long time. We’ve been through a lot of things together, highs and lows, we've known each other since we were little kids. She was even my first kiss!” Honoka reminisced with a blush and a chuckle.

Oh. Somehow, it hurt so much more than Umi had been expecting. She supposed that deep down she hoped that there was no relationship at all between the two, as awful as it sounded.

“But…” Honoka continued, looking down at the ground and kicking a littered can, “it really didn’t work out, we only dated for like a week or two. Thankfully we’re still friends and hang out a lot. Truthfully, I don’t have much going on my life so having Kotori-chan as a friend has helped me out a ton.”

Oh. Umi had never felt such a whiplash of opposite emotions in a such a short span of time, but leave it to this police officer to make it happen.

“What’s up? Are you interested in her? She’s pretty cute! She cooks the most amazing sweets, has a lovely voice, always looks out for you, she will pretty much give you free clothes if you date her…”

Umi was not sure at what point she had stopped listening, instead having focused on taking a deep breath and steel herself once more.

“No, the one I’m interested in is you, Honoka.”

“And then one time-” Umi had managed to silence Honoka. Whether it was a good or a bad signal she did not know but she tried to not let it get to her. Not now. “I uh… r-really? Me? Not Kotori-chan?”

“I don't know why you keep thinking that I’d want to date her. I barely know her, but I know that these complicated feelings I’ve had since you showed up are about you, and that… t-that I want to… d-date you.” Umi did her best to power through the embarrassment of her words.

“Well, because Kotori-chan is so much better than me. I’m clumsy, dumb, trusting to a fault, and-”

Umi shook her head and took hold of Honoka’s hand tightly. “Then, please, trust me on this. On my feelings. I… I like you, and if possible… w-would like to date you.”

Honoka could not help but to swallow some of her doubts when Umi’s gaze was as serious as it was. She felt heat crawl up to her ears, growing self conscious of how much Umi was staring at her. “Kotori-chan only managed to up with me for like a week, you know?”

“I’m not Kotori.”

“Then… I think I’d like to see you more often. Outside the bar.”

“Are we… not outside the bar?” Umi asked, confused. She could not help but to look around the alley. “Or do you mean-”

Honoka interrupted the bartender by giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. “I meant on dates.”

It took a couple of second for Umi to realize what had just happened, her face flushing red. “H-Honoka!” she yelled and pushed Honoka away.

“Y-Yeah?” Honoka laughed heartily, seeing Umi’s face as red as it was.

“T-Tell me if you’re going to k..! To…! To k-kiss me,” Umi’s roaring voice quickly turned the meekest Honoka had ever heard Umi talk.

Honoka laughed some more, much to the bartender’s dismay. After wiping away a tear, Honoka took a deep breath to compose herself. “Umi-chan, can I kiss you?”

Umi’s blush only got worse, something neither of them were aware was even possible. “A-Actually being asked is worse. Please don’t ask if you can kiss me.”

“Then… I can?”

After another deep breath, Umi sighed and nodded. “Y-Yes… you can.”

Honoka smiled, and despite her embarrassment, Umi smiled back. Honoka took hold of one of Umi’s hands, their fingers entwining as she leaned closer to Umi. Closing her eyes, Honoka kissed Umi on the lips, this time savoring the moment, her other arm pulling Umi closer.

The sudden noise of the back door sliding open startled both girls, breaking the kiss to find Rin staring with her mouth wide open.

“Oh! Sorry, keep going!” Rin waved at them and backed up. “Nozomi! Umi-chan and the cop were making ou-!” As the door closed, the soundproofed walls of L1-L1 WH80 cut off the rest of the cat boomer’s announcement.

It would also soundproof Umi’s pending fury upon her co-worker.

“Umi-chan, could we stay like this for a bit?”

Well, all of that could wait. She knew that if a police officer ever asked her something, the best course of action would be to simply agree with them.

A/N:  And it's done! Thank you so much for reaching this finish line alongside me. This is my first multi-chapter fic that I've managed to finish, and honestly, it feels pretty great. It also feels like I've lifted a huge weight off my back and can now guiltlessly write other thingies. Some actual Christmas ideas and prompts have taken the back seat this past week so I could finally finish this. All the feedback that I received was a huge motivation to continue this AU I came up with half a year ago, so I truly appreciate all of you.

L1-L1 WH-80 is done! This last chapter came out as the longest one yet (actually each chapter got progressively longer) and I think this is chapter alone is my longest piece yet, coming out at almost 6k. A number not too impressive when compared to others but this is a new benchmark for me, hopefully one that I'll surpass one day. If the ending was disappointing, I apologize for not living up to the expectations. I always wanted to finish it up in the back alley, a setting that was also present in VA-11 HALL-A. The only one I couldn't get a chance to recreate was Jill's apartment, but I didn't want to take the story outside the bar.

Oh hey, and apparently I took so long a VA-11 HALL-A sequel was announced. Yikes!

I would love to revisit this AU and explore other characters and other parts of this setting, so look forward to that at some point in the future :)

I’d like to thank @bcheddar13 @saberin @master-thief-gray-shadow and @grayneigh for helping me out a ton by beta-ing this project for me.

Hopefully I'll get to post something before the 31st, but if not, happy holidays everyone.

[theredpendulum]

Chapter 1: Welcome

“Alright, that’ll be thirty-four eighty-one. Go ahead and insert your card.” My smile is getting tired. I hate this town.

The middle aged white woman at my register has already snapped at me twice in the last two minutes, and I’m not gonna lie to you. I’m having violent thoughts. 

She swipes her card, and I repeat to her that it has to be inserted since it’s a chip. While she reads the LCD screen she opens and closes her lips like a sixth grader, mocking me for speaking. Once the transaction processes, I wish her a good day, and she leaves the store in a flurry of leopard print leggings and Barbie-pink cowgirl boots.

“I hope your car’s heater is broken, you smooth-brained troglodyte.” I whisper through my grinning teeth quiet enough that she can’t hear me.

“I hate customers.” Jeb pulls his pocket knife out to open a fresh box of plastic bags to reload his station. It’s chipped here and there along the blade, and the handle has a long thin crack going down the left side. I hate that I’ve worked here long enough to be familiar with that stupid knife.

“Me too. At least we’re getting paid.” I shrug.

Jeb nods while distractedly cutting small notches in the edge of the now empty cardboard box, and his eyes look unstable. Distant, and turbulent. 

“You should put your knife away before Aubrey sees you have it out.” His eyes roll back into his skull.

“Whatever.” He mutters and stabs the box. Lifting the box like a slab of ham on a carving fork, he begins to carry it to the back. I watch him go for a moment to make sure he actually closes his blade. He does.

Working with Jeb is like… well he’s a 16 year old boy. That should be sufficient information. He can be funny, and friendly, and bizarrely entertaining, and just the worst sometimes. Today feels like an off day for him. I wonder what went wrong in his morning. Maybe Henry dumped him. They’ve been having drama lately. I should ask. There’s only about five customers in the store right now, and they’re all still milling around aimlessly so we probably have a minute or two to chat. I can see him coming back over. His eyebrows look like they weigh a hundred pounds each.

“Hey.” I tap my fingers on the counter.

“Hey.” He’s got a rubber band in his fingers. He’s twisting it and squishing it into a wiggly blob of dusty red rubber. 

“So… How’s Henry?” I bite the inside of my cheek. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked.

Jeb looks up at me like I just gave him socks for Christmas.

“He’s fine.”

He sucks his teeth, and stretches the rubber band across his hand, and aims at me. I flinch, and he pulls a half-dead smile. He switches his aim to the ceiling, and lets go sending the rubber band into the brightly colored foil snow man above our heads. I catch it, and toss it in my drawer.

“Hey! That’s mine!”

“I’m taking self-protective measures.” I wink and aim finger guns at him. “Pew pew.”

The rest of the day goes by just as boring and frustrating as usual. A man asks me if my hair is a wig, a woman tells me that her apples are apples, and a child asks me if I am pregnant. I’m...definitely not. When 10pm finally makes it’s blessed arrival, Jeb and I wish our last customer a good night, and then play Mother Mother from my phone while we wipe down the registers and sweep the floor. My feet feel like ground beef. My shoes are coming off.

“It’s a sin that these stupid Christmas decorations are up already. We literally just had Halloween. The Spook Gods are gonna be displeased by Craig’s heinous actions.” I enter my employee code, and take my till out of the drawer.

“Yeah he’s gonna get hexed or something for sure. We have witches in this town, you know. Henry told me.” Jeb sticks his broom between his legs, squats, and cackles.

This makes me crack up. I’m glad today hasn’t completely beat the immaturity out of him.

“You look like Discount Harry Potter. And they’re not that kind of witch. They just like collecting crystals and wearing black.” I walk past him into the manager’s office to count up my till. Jeb makes fart sounds to himself to the rhythm of the music and resumes sweeping. 

“Hey Aubrey.” I sit down at the desk, and start punching numbers. “It’s all wiped down out there.”

“Cool. Thanks.” My Manager has drifted off to another universe. The sounds of some kind of puzzle game beep and boop from her phone. 

*fwAHP*

“OW. WH?!” 

Jeb cackles at the doorway at having successfully hit his target. I look down at the desk in front of me and see the rubber band. 

“I should’ve put that in my pocket, you wiener.” I rub my forehead, and wish Aubrey a good night.

Jeb waves to me as he walks out the door. “G’night, Marlo!” he crows.

“Night, Jeb!” I half heartedly salute him, and sit down to put my sneakers back on. I would just carry them, but I remember seeing broken glass outside when I got here.

By the time I have finished tying my laces Jeb has driven away, and Aubrey has made her way to the door. 

“Let’s go.” She motions for me to follow. 

I flop my bag onto my shoulder, and step out the door. She turns the key, and gives the door a test tug to make sure it’s secured.

“Hey have a good night.” 

She gives me a tired smile, and a wave before climbing into her car and pulling away. I throw up a peace sign and head to the back of the lot towards my beat up 2001 Honda prelude. There’s duct tape on the back bumper from a hit and run that happened four years ago. I still haven’t gotten around to replacing that yet… I should do that at some point… I’m so tired. I open my door and climb in. I want nothing more than a hot drink, and some me time. My legs are numb from standing up all day.

Suddenly, I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Warm air is being blown onto my skin from behind. I’m not alone. Horror injects itself into every cell in my body in a single millisecond.

“Welcome.” 

A voice like a creaking floorboard rasps behind me. My keys fly out of my hand, and I lurch out the door. I leave it hanging open and run towards the store front. “HELP!!! HELP ME!!!” I scream as loud as my panicking heart and lungs can muster. I don’t slow down. I slam into the front door, and grab the handle. I desperately tug, but the dread is only getting stronger within my body. I know it’s locked. I watched Aubrey lock it.

I turn too look behind me to see if anyone is chasing me. No one. Nothing there. There isn’t a living thing in sight. There are tears running down my nose. I can’t breathe right. My lungs are twitching and lurching like beetles turned onto their backs. I stand still clutching my sleeves for a moment. It’s completely quiet. The moon lights up the lot with a cold distant glow. The moon is usually comforting to me, but right now it feels menacing. 

What do I do??? ….911! I’ll call the cops!

I scramble to get my phone, but I quickly realize that it is sitting hostile in my bag on the front seat. Whoever is in my car has everything. My phone, my wallet, my keys, …I’m dead. I’m so dead. My eyes shiver and start to squeeze out sharp cold tears. 

“Crap.” My voice cracks as it shudders back and forth. I can feel my knees wobbling, my back muscles twitching. I have to decide on something to do. My feet sting. I can’t stand here at the shop door all night. I step slowly towards my car. Maybe I imagined it. Maybe it’s just exhaustion. I know I can have an elaborate imagination. I might be freaking out over nothing.

“Hello?” I call out. 

Nothing.

“HELLO?!” Louder.

Nothing.

I walk closer and closer to the dangling door. It looks like a dislocated jaw. I hate this.

I hate this.

I hate this.

I hate this!

I HATE THIS!

“If there’s anyone there, I’ll beat the- the SHIT out of you!” I yell at my car. I ball my fists up, and raise them to my chest.

Nothing. Not even a rustling. 

“I’m serious! I’ll end you!” I say with a little less conviction.

“This is your last chance! h-Here I come!” I step slowly towards my car and look into the back window. I don’t see anyone. My car is completely empty except for my bag which lies undisturbed on the seat. My keys are still on the floor. Frick. I’m not okay. 

“Get home. Get in, get home, get in. Just get home.”

I get into my car as fast as I can, and shut and lock the door in one motion. My head on a swivel, I stick my key in and turn. The engine makes a wheezing warbling sound and then sputters into a steady hum. That’s not normal. I don’t have time to worry about that right now. I speed out of the parking lot like a squirrel on caffeine. My leg won’t stop bouncing as I drive. It still feels like someone is in the backseat. I check the rear view mirror a thousand times in the fifteen minutes it takes me to drive home. At the first stop sign I reach I stand on the break, and crane my neck back to check the floor in the back in case someone is crouching down back there. There’s nothing. I’m still scared. What if I’m being followed?... I can’t think about that. That’s too scary right now.

I pull into my driveway, and sprint to my front door. Feeling paranoid now I jiggle the knob to make sure it’s still locked since I left it this morning. It is. I unlock it, go inside, and slam the door behind me. I lock the knob and the bolt. I can’t stop shaking. Everything hurts. I might vomit. I turn on the lights to my living room and kitchen, and grab a chef’s knife from the block. I carry it with me to the pantry and retrieve the kettle and a box of red raspberry leaf tea. I need to calm down. This is the part of living alone that seriously sucks sometimes. I have no one here to watch my back if something happens. I need a dog or something. A really big dog. 

I make my tea, and sit down at my computer. I load up Pitchfork, Cottage Simulator. The wholesome artwork and cute villagers in my little pixelated mountain town will hopefully at least bring my heartrate down. I work on my little carrot garden, trade some wool for a fish at the little market, and get started on decorating a new room in my cottage. The next several hours melt away into the night. Eight-bit guitars and hot herbal tea are really great for anxiety attacks. 

Lying in bed, my room feels crooked. The energy is bad. My body is a lot more calmed down, but my brain won’t settle into place. I really wish I had a dog… 

[cocaowrites-blog]

Accidents

               “Um sir? That was the last load of them, well the last shipment of the month.” Y/N was looking at her clipboard which had contained a whole list of shipments and branded names that we’re delivered to her job. Checking off the very last one.

“Great, well then you’re done for today. Just make sure you turn in your survey sheet on your way out, and I’ll see you next week.” Her boss waved her goodbye and she nodded in response, leading herself out the room.

Running her fingers through her hair she let out a huff, today there were 30 men to look over for survey so she hadn’t had a chance to complete her survey of them, so that’s going to leave her stuck at work for another 45 minutes. “With my luck, I’ll be stuck here longer…” Dropping her hand she stood up straight and went straight to her office.

♠ 

“Ahhh, I’m finished!” Lifting the papers in enjoyment she quickly packed her items and sped walk right to the main office mailboxes and dropped her report and all in the box. Waving the receptionist bye, she whipped out her phone to see the exploded mess of text messages she’s received from her roommate, friend, and mom.

Knowing the wrath, she’s receive from her mom not responding right away she dialed her phone number in quickly. Putting the phone between her shoulder and ear, while making a digging for her keys, her mom picked up on the 3rd ring.

“Hey cucumber, why didn’t you text me back earlier?” Y/N smiled from the new nickname her mother has formed for her.

“I got stuck in the building, today's shipment required 30 men so I was busy all day directing some of the new ones around and didn’t have time to write down how the survey went.” Clicking the unlock button on the car Y/N opened the door and tossed her purse to the passenger side.

“Well I’m guessing you didn’t read my text from lack of response to it, but your brother and I wanted to invite you over for dinner sometime. We haven’t seen you since your birthday…” Y/N sat back in her car seat and huffed out in stress and sadness. Her job had constantly kept her busy, always letter her off late or she will get off early and be called right back in, never giving her the chance to see her family.

“Well how about I come over tonight? I know its past your dinner time, so I’ll get some dessert for you guys and something small for me, would that be fine?” She knew her mom’s response would be a definite yes but she asked just in case.

“Oh, Cumber you don’t have to ask, this was your house you know. I’ll tell your brother that you’re coming over. I’m really happy you’re coming.” It melted Y/N’s heart to hear her mom sound so… warm.

“I know mom, I’ll see you in a bit.” Ending the call Y/N set her phone in the cup holder and put the keys into the car, thinking of what to get for the visit.

♠

“No, she hates chocolate fudge. Sheesh fudge in general, so what the hell do I get her.” Y/N was browsing over the sweets section of a small shop that she simply loved going to. 

The main problem was she didn’t know what to get for her mom, her taste being very picky. So, upsetting her, more of disappointing her, she wanted to pick out something just right.

“Do you need any help ma’am? I see you’ve been looking over here for quite some while, anything you can’t find?” One of the owners came over to where Y/N was crouching, so she rose to face them.

“Ah yes, not to tell you my life story but I’m going to visit my mother after not seeing her for some time and I want to get something simple but meaningful at the same time. Shes just very picky though…” The older man was looking at the her with some thought and his eyes lit up when he had the perfect suggestion for her.

“Follow me please.” So Y/N followed the older gentleman over to where there was a display case full of mini cakes, cupcakes, muffins, you name it. The man walked behind the counted and put on some clear plastic gloves. Sliding the 

glass door over he reached in for a-a tart… With his other free hand the man grabbed a small sheet of paper and set it on the counter, then placed the tart atop. He looked at the clock and excused himself for a moment.

Y/N was wonder why the man would pick a tart and secondly if her mom would eat it. She didn’t think so, from experience they’re always too, well, tart. With that she knew for sure he mom wouldn’t like it so she tapped her foot on the ground, observing the tart and waiting for the man.

The crust of it looked like it was drizzled with white chocolate and the inside had a tint of yellow that was being covered by, guessing was powdered sugar. Then the small decoration which had a small swirl of toasted icing(?) and a red raspberry atop to give some color to it. Overall, she was stunned with how elegant it was, that’s why she came here.

“Ah forgive me, my son was visiting himself. I had to say goodbye. Now back to this though, I know your mother will enjoy this. Tarts are very difficult to make the just right balance but if you have the correct ingredients and flavors going together, you have the perfect match.

“I’m sorry sir but are you sure, my mother, it’s just tha-“ The man cut her off.

“Darling she will love it.” The man smiled at Y/N and she gave him a smile one back, nodding in approval. He then proceeds to continue where he left off and he grabbed a small box and placed the tart and paper in it.

Ringing up the tart Y/N pulled out her card and swiped it when needed and signed off her sloppy signature on the card reader. “Thank you very much sir, may you have a great evening.” Grabbing the small box and handling it gentle then man wished her a delightful farewell. 

“Yes, you too ma’am, may we see you again.” Then with that she opened the shop door with her shoulder and walked out to her car. 

Setting the box on the hood, Y/N grabbed the keys out of her back pocket and unlocked the car. Opening the passenger door, she set the box against the glove compartment and set her purse next to it, so it wouldn’t slide anywhere and hit the door. Gently closing the door, she walked over to the driver’s side, and got in feeling a weight being lifted off her chest. “Next stop moms.”

Putting the keys in the ignition she started the car, but before she could put the car in reverse her car was suddenly shaken violently. She immediately knew what had happened when she heard the sound, her car was hit.

“God please don’t be doing this to me today, please!” Silently begging Y/N unbuckled her seat belt and got out her car to, of course, see her car was indeed hit. A man stepped out the car rubbing his hand through his mint colored hair.

“You’re shitting me, oh my- uuugh.” This man was looking at where both of our cars had collided, his more with mine.

“Excuse me, I don’t want to be Captain Obvious here but you just hit my car.” Looking back at what she had just said Y/N scolded herself for sounding like and idiot.

“Oh wow! I really couldn’t tell.” The guy gave her a dull face and she folded her arms huffing.

“Ok well since you’re not a very happy camper, just give me your information an-“ He cut off abruptly.

“No, no no. I can just give you money right now for the damages and that would be easier.” She was taken back and if anything, that would be worse because she would have to go through unnecessary things through her insurance to make sure they didn’t go through her account etc.

“Sorry I cant agree with that, its just not going to be fun for me.” The guy groaned and stomped back into his cat. “Hey! What are you doing? You cant leave!” He began to back up his car and Y/N’s car settled down some bit. Though instead the guy didn’t drive off, he only pulled back so their cars weren’t connected anymore.

Getting out the car she tried to get a better look at this man. He had seemed a tad familiar but not to where she knew 100%. “Listen if I give you my information my mana- boss will have me at my throat, so could I please give you cash.” She had walked closer to the male and got a better look at him, plus with his voice, it gave her the green.

“Wait… Are you? You are.” She stood up straight and put her arms down to her side. “I’d never think in a million years Min Yoongi would hit my car.” Y/N had heard of the famous BTS group when she first moved to Korean but never took much interest in them, for she was more worried about getting a place to live. Her roommate though was obsessed with them, so she was more than updated with the latest news and music.

“Please just don’t faint, I’ll give you an autograph and we can take a selfie too maybe. This is all just a huge accident, forgive me.” He had worried written all over his face and I could truly show that he would get in trouble with the big guys.

“Yes, but it’s more of a acci-dent on the back of my car,” Y/N observed her car better and had an internal battle. Pity clearly winning. “I will take the cash.”

His face seemed to glow up. 

“Seriously, hell yea! You are great, uh, what’s your name, I mean since you know mine.

“Y/N, and its only because my roommate talks obsessively about you guys. Though I’m in a rush to get somewhere, so could we make the transaction quick.” She rose and eyebrow and Suga went to his car to fetch his wallet.

He must have been taking his time though because Y/N was getting impatient as just as soon as she was about to walk over to the passenger side of the car Suga emerged and her had handed her a, looking large, sum of money. “Forgive but I don’t think I’ll need this much.”

Though he was already making his way back to the car. “Its better than not having enough.” Suga had said over the roof of his car before he got in. But when he did Y/N got out of the middle of the parking lot and watch Min Yoongi wave and then take off.

“This seriously happened…” Still not able to comprehend everything that had just happened she got in her car and put the sum on cash in her glasses holder that was collecting dust probably. “Ok, now we go to mom’s house.”

♠

After having dessert with her mom and brother, catching up with them. She was sitting in her car going through the money to see the exact totally of money when a slip of orange paper fell onto her lap as she was flipping through the bills. She reached down and noticed a scribbled name and number. 

“That’s what took you so damn long.”