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safination · 3 months

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Partners in Death...and Life.

Part I: Radio's not dead

| Part 2: Radio Will Be Dead if He Doesn’t Explain Himself. | Masterlist| ao3 Pairings: Alastor x wife!reader Tags: fem! reader, established relationship, human!alastor, hopefully not but just in case ooc!alastor (I'm trying my best to keep him as canon as possible) acroace!alastor

"Alastor! Pleasure to meet you. Quite a pleasure!" One hand reset on his chest, and the other shoots into the air. You chuckle. "I don't think it will be quite the pleasure you think." "Is that so?" Alastor's smile remains constant. "And why would that be? You show him the tray you're holding "I'm here to do your sutures"

You pass the tissue box—the third one already.

Your patient blows his nose, rubbing snot off his snout. He has to stretch his arms to reach his nose. Alligators are known for their long snouts. His nostrils flare when he sniffles. Used tissue is discarded on the pastel-pink floor despite a pastel-pink trashcan stationed by his webbed feet. It’s been the same pattern for the last fifteen-minutes.

Tissue, Sneeze. Floor.

“—and I have this…uh…like this real bad itch on my eye. I keep rubbing and rubbing but it doesn’t do shit! My eyesight’s gotten worse—It’s already fucked up but this is just different. My roommate hissed at me about getting blood all-over the carpet floors if I kept scratching my scales. Oh. Oh! I’ve been snee—achew!” Alligator snot lands on the pastel-pink floors of the clinic.

Your eyes twitch.

He takes another tissue and waves it around his head. “The top of my head is killing me. Ya’know where that is right?” He blows his nose. “It’s right here,” he says, inching his head closer to you. “The last nurse I went to was blind as a bat! Literally, she had the wings and everything. It was kinda hot.”

“I’m well aware of the location of your head,” you say. “You can lean back now.”

Tissue. Sneeze. Floor

Tissue. Sneeze. Floor.

Pastel pink floor.

Underneath the mix of feathers and hair strands, the bustling of the waiting room catches your ear. Someone curses, booming and violent at another waiting patient. A cough, a sigh, a barf. Painful curses erupt after that. You bring a hand to your ears, wincing as your eardrum rings.

Pentagon City’s best and biggest hospital needs better doors, but those lazy sloth fuckers at the top invested at the first material they found. The alligator sneezes into another tissue. He flicks it with his wrist, and it hits the pastel-pink wallpaper adorned with closed eyes. Maybe Belphegor should be the sin of Pride instead, considering all items are covered in her symbol.

“I really feel like t’was those exterminators ya’know?”

You do not, in fact, know. Half of what this young man says is incomprehensible.

His snout sways left to right when he shakes his head. “It’s only my second one, and this was a close call, and uh…well, ever since then I’ve been like this. One even got to my roommate. “

You hum, leaning back on your chair. You should petition to for thicker doors. And while you’re at it, better interior design, and better paint—something that isn’t pastel pink.

“Ugh, and it’s so not cool that this new roommate of mine’s been shedding since the day they moved in,” he says. “Speaking of shedding, do you think it’s because of those exterminators? Do you think they like spread some sort of weird pollen to make us sick? They’re totally the type to that.”

You take your pen—your pastel-fucking-pink pen—and poke his alligator sinuses.

Hell does have its own brand of humor. You gave your 20s to studying human anatomy, only to die and find yourself with the need to re-learn the boring part of biology. (Two books on reptiles, four on mammals, and fifteen on sea creatures.)

“YEOWCH!” His teeth stick out again. You do not know what this means. “What kind of nurse ar—“

“Doctor.”

“—you? That’s not the top of my head!”

You push back on of the feathers on your head. “Your roommate ‘hissed’ at you? And they’ve been shedding fur for two weeks now?"

“…Yeah…?”

You stare at him. “Have you ever considered that you’re allergic to your roommate?”

“Ooooooooooh,” he says. ‘Yeah, I was allergic to cats back when I was alive.”

You grab your (pastel-fucking-pink) prescription pad from the desk drawer. “Control it with some antihistamine. Four pills every 12 hours.”

His teeth start showing. You’re not sure if he’s frowning. It’s hard to tell. “Pills, really?”

You toss what you were writing into the massive pile of germs, mucus, and tissue. “I can give you a nasal spray. I’ll flush the mucus then insert a spray that prevents build-up,” you say. “They last for two weeks and then you’ll need to come back.”

He grabs the last tissue from the box. It still lands on your floor. “Ma’am nurse, do you have any more of this?”

You sigh and reach for a fourth box of tissue. “It’s doctor,” you say. “We keep nasal sprays here in the clinic. I’ll just grab one and you’ll be out in fifteen minutes.”

“No can do,” he says. “Before I died, my coach told me to stay away from that non-organic shit. It’ll mess us up real bad apparently. All those steroids.”

“You have phencyclidine sticking out of your coat pocket.”

“Pheny—what?”

“…Angel Dust.”

“The porn star?”

“The drug. You have drugs sticking out of your coat pocket.”

“Come on, nurse—”

Threads erupt from your fingers. It snakes around his wrist, coiling and twisting. He jerks his arm away and cries out when you tighten your hold. Your threads wrap around his legs. It pulls against his waist. Magic binds his arms, and tightens around every joint he owns. You stop, only when the alligator struggles, trashing against the clinic chair.

His teeth bare and he snaps at whatever he can reach. You tug on one of the thousands of strings digging into his skin. His jaw snaps shut, and it will stay shut. Another tug and his back stretches to straighten. You move your fingers as if a piano laid before you, and he sits up like a good puppet.

Another month of clinic dury will be your punishment if those sloth from down below are lucid enough to do their jobs. Sadly, killing this idiot would have you suspended for three months.

“I am a doctor,” you tell him. “Do not make me repeat myself.”

The tension on your strings marks even the few scales scattered on his body. He’s a real idiot if he continues to struggle.

Delicate movements of your fingers bring him forward, his back still strained, and tilt his snout at a forty-five-degree angle. Your threads elongate as you move toward the clinic drawers. It loosens around you, careful at keeping you able to move freely. It’s one of the handier parts of your magic.

You shake your hands and the threads detach. It sticks to the floor to keep the alligator as your puppet. You scrub your hands thoroughly before taking the nasal spray and filling with with distilled water.

You place on nitrite gloves. It’s always best when dealing with bodily substances such as mucus. You place a pan underneath and jam the tube up his nostrils, hosing his sinuses with water. The tension of his binding keeps him still. (If you ignore his whining, then that’s your business. The brawl you heard from the waiting room drowned it all out anyway.) He starts breathing better when all the snot flushes to the pan.

“Finished,” you say with satisfaction. You grab your prescription pad and write one for a nasal spray. “I cleared the mucus buildup so you shouldn’t feel any more headaches. The spray will keep your nose clear for as long as you use it. Come back if you start to feel any discomfort. For the rashes just get cream.” You point at the pastel pink door. “The exit’s right there.”

The threads dissolve in the air. He rubs his wrist, trying to soothe the red marks that your strings bring. You hand him the signed prescription.

He doesn’t close the door on his way out.

The broom and dustpan are hidden in one of the taller cabinets—pastel-pink like everything else in the room.

(Well, not everything. The radio sitting on the corner of the counter gives a splash of red into the room.)

You sweep the tissues into the dustpan. Your control over your strings is much more proficient when living beings are involved. Inanimate objects whip around when you use your magic on them, and radios have been difficult to purchase recently. It’s more convenient to clean using your own hands.

“Tagatha,” you call out when the floor is clean. “You can bring in the next one in.”

Silence is your reply.

“Tagatha?”

Your ears quirk. The noises are faint—an occasional cough, silent weeping, and muted voices coming from the television. You peek out the door, eyeing the crowd formed around the corner of the hall where a pAstel-pInK television mounts on the wall.

The door closes with a faint click. You sink into the cushions of the office chair. Vox’s yapping bore you. It was probably some man-child debate about the new extermination date. Although… those serialized dramas he produces, sadly, are interesting enough to be consumed. If asked for your honest opinion, you’d tell them that they were a hot pile of smelly garbage, but you like to leave it playing mindlessly in the background.

Your husband will throw the television out the window the first chance he’ll get.

Too bad he’s occupied.

You grab a piece of paper from the drawer. Management is forcing you to write a thousand-word formal apology. There are about three-hundred words left to write.

Getting caught dissecting the dead bodies from the morgue is a mistake that won’t be repeated. One dead body and suddenly those lazy fuckers have diligence weaved into their DNA. The body was already dead, and it’s not every day a chance to poke around a chimera’s entrails appears. The sinner would contribute to something meaningful at least. You’re stuck on clinic duty until you dot your last sentence, and not a moment before

The coffee’s cold now, but consumable.

You reach across the desk, feeling for the knob of the radio. You twist until you feel the clink. Music fills the air—the same twenty-five songs on a loop. You stare at the radio for a moment.

Just… a small… single moment.

On your kitchen counter, that second cup of coffee should be cold by now. It’s always cold when you trudge through the door. It’s been cold and untouched for years.

Yet, without fail, that second cup you brew will always be waiting for its owner.

“Salutations!” You snap your head to the radio. “Good to be back on the air.”

…Huh? The feather on your hair bristle. You swipe the radio, your hold on it feather-light. You turn the knob responsible for volume. The static noise stings your eardrums.

“—ile since someone with style treated hell to a broadcast. Sinners rejoice!”

Murmurs erupt outside your door. You blink and find yourself slamming it open. One foot after another, one step after the other, brings you closer to the television. Your shoulder throbs when you bump into someone, but you keep pushing until you see Vox and his tacky suit enlarged on the screen.

“What a dated voice!”

A reply comes from the radio. “Instead of a clout-chasin’ mediocre video podcast.”

Your feather rises higher. Laughter escapes your lips, it leaves a dry taste. That…that ṁ̵̭͔̲̙̦͎̝̜̲̠͙͇̂̏̃̐̂̓̊̂̕̕o̴̢̭̝̙̤̬͚͐̅͗̌̇̂̌̕ţ̷̛̝̂̿h̶̯̟̙̲̘̟̟͙͔̔̋͊̋̿̐͘͜͜ę̶̗̰͔̫͔̗̝̘̻̰̓̓̈̊͜r̵̨̂̏f̶͖̻̱̺͕̹̫̭̠̚u̸̬̺̯̟̦͖̅̂́́̌̚͝ć̴̖͙̰͈͕̉͌̈́́̈̔̀̉̍́͜͠ḳ̴̨̧̗̫̗͖̞̟̑͌̂̀̈́̀͆͒ę̷̛͓̼̟͍̆̆́͆̾͛͝r̵̹̮̤͓̗̹̈́̎̉͌̾͌̏͑̋̚͝.

“Doctor!” Tagatha screeches when she spots you. “I am so sorry. I’ll bring in the next one right away!”

Your eyes are trapped by the screen and your ears by the radio. “It’s alrig—”

Tagatha grabs the closest person to her and shoves you back into the clinic. The door slams shut just as everything goes dark and silent. (Well, it’s not completely dark, once your eyes adjust you can still see as if the lights were open. Another small perk to this body). Your radio, along with the power, stopped working.

“Oh my!” Your new patient bleats.

“We have generators,” you find yourself saying. “I’m sure the power will come on in a minute.”

The cushions of the chair do little to ease your nerves. You pat your hair, trying to get it in control. A pile of feathers starts forming on the PASTEL-FUCKING PINK FLOORS. T̴̹̜͇̅̅͗͜H̶̰̗̄Ơ̶̡̡̻̗͖̋̎̓̓S̴̨͉̝̻͋̽̆́͆Ẹ̸̡̢͐͐͠ ̷̨͚̞̙̀͒̆̆͊Ŭ̵͕̲̪͇͓͐̚G̷̹̝̦̬͊͒Ḷ̶̭͓̎̏̈͘Y̶͇̟̍̉̚ ̷̟͎͕̞͂͑̂̇À̶͉̍̄̈̚S̸͖̖͕͑̏͛̈́S̶͚̤̼̯̀ ̶̻͆P̷̬̝̉Ä̵͕́͊̌S̸̢͍̆̓͝Ṫ̸͖̲̠̾̉͜͝E̷̺͆L̷͖̏͐́͝ ̶̛̟̽͝P̷̪̔͜I̴̹̥̹͖̮͒́̏͘N̸̳̙̼̾̆̿Ķ̶̟̞̜̉͊̓̂̚ ̵͈̬̃̿̄̈́̋F̵̨̨̼̫̘͘L̸̙̠͎̓̆́O̷̧̘͚͉̤̓O̷̤̟̱̼̤͋̍͐R̷̰̝̓͌̌Ș̵̲̝̈́ "Excuse me?” You will paint this room red with the blood of management. You tap your foot again, and again, and again. “…Doctor?”

Your neck snaps in her direction, eyes wide and staring.

“The… uh… the lights are back.”

You blink at your patient—huh, she’s a goat. “I apologize,” you say, smiling. “Please, tell me, what brings you here in this hellish afternoon.”

She holds up her bleeding arm. “It’s been like this since the extermination,” she explains. “Some angle got me. Luckily, I was able to run off before I was finished. I thought it would heal on its own like it usually does but it just hasn’t. It keeps bleeding.”

“Well, angel-induced injuries are my specialty,” you say. Tucked away to the side, a mirror hangs. You catch your reflection, and you blow your hair away from your vision, your red sclerae “This will cost you. Injuries caused by angels are…difficult to stitch, but not impossible—not for me at least.”

“Oh, yes.” She bleats one more “Dear God, where are my manners? I’m sorry can I ask for your name?”

Your smile widens. “Of course. I’m—"

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

“Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you. Quite a pleasure!” One hand reset on his chest, and the other shoots into the air. It’s the bow you did in high school, back when you wanted theater to pay your bills. A performer’s bow.

You chuckle. “I don’t think it will be quite the pleasure you think.”

“Is that so?” Alastor’s smile remains constant. “And why would that be?”

You show him the tray you’re holding. “I’m here to do your sutures.” He steps closer to take a peek. You watch him as his eyes gloss over your matches then your needle driver, then the alcohol lamp. His smile wobbles when he lands on the syringe.

You move the tray, dropping it down on the little cart by the examination chair.

“There’s no need to worry.” You beam at him. “I have the steadiest hands in this city.”

“Hmmmm,” he says. “You must be the other doctor then.”

“Not at all.” You point to your uniform, where the initial ‘NP’ is embroidered next to your name. “Just the nurse practitioner.”

He takes a closer look and reads your name. “Then I have no reason to fret. None at all! In my experience, doctors usually have their noses buried in their books. It’s the nurses that actually get the hands-on experience.” Alastor’s hands move when he talks. “What’s such a talented practitioner doing in such a dinged-up clinic?”

“Management caught me in the morgue dissecting the dead—It’s how I practice my stitches.”

“Really, now?”

You bark a laugh. “Not at all—I’m far too smart to get caught.”

“A witty sense of humor and a steady hand! I am in good hands, indeed.”

You take a seat on the rolling stool. “Yes, yes,” you say, waving your wrist. “You make fine compliments, Sir. I’ll be sure to be extra gentle.” You point towards the examination chair. “But, please hurry to the chair. You’re dripping blood on my floor.”

Alastor glances down. His eyebrows furrow as he glares at where the blood seeps from his sleeve … almost… almost as if he’s angry. “My apologies,” he says, allowing his blood to drip to the floor.

Alastor shrugs off his coat. It’s rare to see such a dark red—only a few choose such a color. You hum. Alastor is a well-dressed gentleman. Lovely. Those are your favorite kind. He drapes his coat over the spare chair, ignoring the coat racks the clinic provides.

You turn away and wheel yourself closer to one of the drawers on the counter. It takes two attempts until you find the stash of sterile gloves. “Take your seat when you’re ready,” you say. “I’ll take a look once you are.” You place the gloves on the little green cart, right next to your tray.

Alastor takes his seat, landing with an audible ‘humph’. He smiles at you, sleeves rolled and arm ready. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

You hold your palm out. “May I?”

His smile wobbles—it’s a small change in expression that you wouldn’t notice if you weren’t looking. “Of course.”

Along his forearm, a long and sharp cut wounds him. The sight of grime that covers the opened abrasions makes you inwardly cringe. You need to clean these as soon as possible. “Why was this not checked sooner?” You rest his hands on the armrest and use your foot to bring the cart closer. “This looks old, and not at all like a freshly deep cut. I prefer it when patients come to me with fresh wounds.”

You grab a bowl with distilled water and pour in a sterile solution. “I assumed it would heal on its own,” he tells you. “It was quite a surprise when it did not.”

“I need to clean this before you die of infection.” You dip his arm into the bowl. He remains silent, but you feel the tension of his muscles under your fingers. “Hopefully there will be no next time, but just in case, next time, please don’t wait a month.”

He laughs, and there, you faintly see it—a twitch in his eye. “It was only a week actually.”

You smile to yourself. “I’d prefer it if it was only a few hours.” You dry his arm with a soft towel, his arm still tensed underneath your touch. “There, much better.” You release your hold to go to a shelf filled with different labeled vials and select the one you need. With the clean syringe, you draw the contents of the vial. “You’ll feel a bit of a pinch,” you say. You tap its side. “It’s morphine— wouldn’t want you screaming and writhing”

You study his face for a second. There’s just that same dismissively polite smile.

“You can look away if you wish,” you tell him. “It’s why we pin such…er…interesting decorations around…. May I?”

You feel it again when Alastor inches his arm closer. His muscles tense under your touch. It’s almost as if he wishes to pull away. You keep your hold feather-light, but firm.

“Are you a hunter by any chance?” you ask. You don’t prick him—not yet. Not when tension coils in your hold.

“You could describe it that way,” he says, chuckling like he’s told a humorous joke. (You don’t understand why.)

“I figured you were.”

Alastor slides his glasses up the bridge of his nose. You inject the morphine into his skin, right inside the soft pink tissue. Good. Alastor relaxes when he speaks, it seems. “I do love a good hunt,” he says. “How ever did you know.”

You release your hold and discard the syringe. “Your hands are rough,” you tell him. “And hunters always have this silly notion that injuries magically heal given enough time—along with farmers, actually. Although, farmers are usually much more deluded.”

He flashes that same polite smile. “I'm guessing you’re not a hunter then?”

“How ever did you know?”

You watch his eyes flicker to your palms as you re-arrange the needles. “Delicate hands.”

You flash the same polite smile right back at him. You take a match, and light the alcohol lamp.

Soap spreads all over your palms and up your arm as you scrub your hands. You slip your hands into the sterilized gloves, careful not to contaminate the surface. “I’ll begin now.”

Alastor hums in reply.

You take a scapple and pass it over the flame. You poke him, lightly, but he doesn’t react. Satisfied, you cut back fibrous tissue underneath the skin. You replace the scapple with a needle driver. There was a quiet click when you pinch the tiny curved needle. You pass it over the flame as well. “Can you do me a favor? Can you tell me how many stars are on that wall over there?

Alastor turns to look at you, but you block his eyes with your palm, shielding him from your stiches.

“The wall isn’t over here.”

“I assure you, I’m not afraid of a silly needle.”

“I’m sure you are,” you say. “However, you’ll forgive me if I don’t take your word for it. The last three people who said that took one look and started squirming. One even fainted. It makes your life miserable, and my job harder.

He counts.

“Out loud please.”

He does as he’s told, rather reluctantly.

Hands steady and determination set, you pierce the soft pink tissue with your needle The tissue nearest to the surface is always delicate. You’re certain not to catch any fat in your suture, for fat dies, and a loose stitch is useless. “Well, isn’t this fun!” he says. “I really feel nothing.”

Your concentration does not break. “I don’t remember there only being twenty-six stars. I’m positive there are more.”

“Why is someone as talented as you only a nurse practitioner?”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a nurse…,” you reply, tugging on the needle. “Well…we…. We certainly could be paid more.”

“Why not become an actual doctor then?”

“My father couldn’t afford it. He wouldn’t send me….and…hm…” You smoothly pull the suture thread and begin the next stitch. “And I enjoy this.”

He looks down at you. “Is this all you’ll be satisfied with?”

You focus back on your stitching, hiding your glare. You bring your needle underneath the flesh, making sure to catch the soft tissue. You’re doing an uncommon stitch, but it would be a shame to leave a scar. “You sound familiar.”

You pause to look at him, His smile brightens, and it actually looks like a genuine elated smile. “Why, I’m a radio broadcaster. You might have heard me there.”

“Oh yes...” you hum, turning back to your stitching. “Alastor... I remember now. The ladies and I listen to your broadcast as we do our crafts.”

“Knitting?”

“I personally prefer embroidery,” you say. “I get to practice my stitching and make beautiful art.” You pull the thread and begin a new one, stitching his skin like they were shoe laces. “You’re quite the humorous gentleman, I must say, and quite a lovely taste in music. We enjoy your broadcast very much”

“Do you have any of your artworks here?” he asks you. “I would be eager to see them.”

“Maybe next time.” You tug the suture, and his laceration snaps to a close. You tie a knot and snip the end. “Unfortunately, I’ve finished your stitches.”

“Next time then.”

You discard your gloves and go back to the shelf with the vials. You fill up another syringe. You jam the needle into his skin, not enough to hurt, just enough to scare him a bit. “To prevent infection.”

He jerks away from you. “What happened to that gentle touch of yours?”

“It’s still a sharp object, Sir. They tend to hurt.” You smirk and carefully clean the remaining blood on the skin around the sutured wound. You take a bandage from your cart and begin wrapping it around his forearm, covering your sutures. “Don’t forget to drink your pills every 8 hours, with a meal in your stomach, preferably. Replace the dressing every three days. You can come back here or if you’re able to do so, you can change them yourself. Any by the good God, please, visit the nearest hospital should this incident repeat.”

Alastor slides off the examination chair. He grabs his coat as if you didn’t just stitch him close. You start packing when you notice him fixing his bow tie, and smoothing his hair. Huh…There’s blood on his coat, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Like he’s used to having it there. Like it’s just something he’s learned to live with. “You were wrong by the way.”

“Pardon?”

“It was quite the pleasure to meet you.”

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Next Part |Part 2: Radio Will be Dead if He Doesn't Explain Himself| Hello, welcome to the hell that's been plaguing my head. In case you didn't know Belphegor is the ruler of the sloth ring, and she seems to be in charge of medical-related stuff in Hell. I have the story mostly plotted out, it's just a matter of writing it down. If you have any questions, ask away

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #Hazbin hotel x reader #Alastor x reader #Alastor x wife!reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #alastor x wife reader #hazbin hotel imagines #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #radio demon #Alastor demon form #hazbin hotel headcanons

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01zfan · 2 months

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muscle memory | p. wb

waiter!wonbin x waitress!reader | 5.9k words

WONBIN ANON(S) THIS ONE IS FOR Y’ALL!

contains: random idols mentioned for world building, semi-public sex, unprotected sex

you sat next to the pass waiting for the food you ordered for your table to be put out. it was ironically one of the few areas in the restaurant where you could gather your thoughts despite objectively being in the middle of all the chaos. this was the one place in the restaurant where you could actively see all moving parts in the restaurant coming together. next to the pass was also the personal dining room of you and your coworkers, the designated spot where discarded food was up for grabs. so you basked in the organized chaos of your restaurant while eating almost cold parmesan aioli fries.

from your seat on your barstool you could see the cooks in the open faced kitchen work preparing people’s food. you could see the fire coming to life in their woks, and how they didn’t flinch away. you could hear them yelling out terms and phrases to eachother about dishes. you perked up when you heard the items of the dish you were waiting for be called out. you looked down the line quickly, but went back to your slouching position when nothing you needed was there.

you sat there eating the discarded food, half focused on putting something in your empty stomach while half focused on the sounds around you. you waited to hear the signature ding of a new dish being done, but all your ears could pick up was the sound of more tickets being printed and the low-volume music playing in the kitchen. if you got close enough enough and if it was loud enough you could sometimes recognize the words and sing along. you had built up a rapport with them that way, singing along to their songs and passing along compliments from the customers. when they were feeling generous enough, they would even prioritize your staff meal and actually make your on the fly items quickly.

you couldn’t decipher the song in the kitchen. it was drowned out by the million other sounds happening around you. you heard your fellow server yelling into the kitchen about something being made wrong. you looked up to see it was giselle, nearly sitting on the pass to lean as far as she could into the kitchen. any argument she tried to start failed. you knew it would be forgotten after closing, but in the moment it seemed intense. curses were being thrown over the wall on both sides and made it down the line. you wondered if you would have to call for shotaro to mediate the situation, but everyone seemed unbothered as they continued with their job. in less than a minute, giselle was handed her food and she had a smile on her face as she made her way back to the dining room. after seeing the exchange, all you could do was shake you head and go back to your fries.

you had learned a long time ago to stand off to the side when altercations happen. you only recently got in the good graces of most the people you worked with. the last thing you needed was to be put on someone’s shit list for rightfully asking for your food to be ready, or to ask them to calm down.

that was a big problem you developed working here. becoming fine with getting the short end of the stick. if anton sat a seven-top, two five-tops, and three two-tops in your section you only smiled and nodded your head. if someone asked you to come in for them even if you didn’t want to, you said yes. if one of your coworkers asked for your helped even if you were swamped you ran twice as fast to make sure you could save them. you never dared to yell, stomp your feet, or say no. you took it as penance for no other reason than simply existing. you knew everyone was aware of your pushover personality, you just hoped eventually they would give you grace.

normally, you would’ve set your foot down by now, at the very least set up boundaries for your coworkers on what they could ask for. you practiced the speech a million times, each one unique to the unfair things your coworkers would ask for. anton it would be about sitting too many big parties in your section. giselle would be how she rushes too much. winter would be about her laziness when it comes to being on the pass. sungchan’s would be that he helps too much, making you feel inferior at your job. but you keep it all at bay for penance, to make yourself pay for how you unfairly judged your perfect coworker.

you had been hired at the company two months ago. it was hard to navigate at first, having to swallow your pride from not finding a job in your career field. any shame you felt melted after hearing their were multiple “young professionals” at your job. you were even more excited to hear that there was actually someone else with the exact same degree as you, and seemingly went to the same school as you. before you could ask any questions the interview went on, and any questions about other people cleared your mind when you got the job.

when wonbin almost ran into you on your first day, you dropped all of your drinks. it came as a surprise, seeing a face you hadn’t seen in so long. he was different, his black hair that never touched his ears went past his chin now, and he was faster on his feet. he also was the apodeictic leader of the waitstaff, earned through his lack of mistakes, ability to speak his mind, and being a guest favorite. in that moment it became clear who the person that had the same major as you was, and it was too late to quit. you had gotten a taste for the money, and this was the only job on the market that would hire you.

so you stuck through it, swallowing your pride each time wonbin helped you correct a mistake or appease an angry customer. you were grateful for the help, and to have someone who knew what they were doing by your side. something would randomly hit you like a pang in your chest realizing wonbin was better at this than you. all the times you bested him in school seemed to pale in comparison to this, something that actually mattered.

while you were with your trainer sungchan you were distracted, keeping an eye out for wonbin so you could ignore his gaze. what bothered you even more was the fact that wonbin was unbothered. with an exception for the first time he saw you, everything was business as usual with him. he was nothing like the wonbin you used to know, who was petty and didn’t let things go. this wonbin didn’t bring up your past to you or anyone who asked how you two knew eachother. this wonbin only simply said you two went to school together, greatly undermining the time you two together.

working with wonbin took weeks to get used to. they were slow steps forward, finally making it out of the initial awkwardness to exchange pleasantries.

you finally were able to have a conversation with your coworkers while wonbin was present. before you would simply go silent when he came around, avoiding eye contact when he would ask you a question directly.

the conversation was what it normally was during slow mornings, complaints regarding work. you had to spend a ridiculous amount of money on the uniform with no help from upper levels of management. sungchan and giselle shared your complaints, even talking about how later down the line you would have to pay for dry cleaning.

“what would you suggest to fix the situation?” wonbin asked.

it was a question directed at you, unavoidable as wonbin titled his head. you thought for a moment before keeping eye contact with wonbin.

“they could have designated days of the month where they take all of our stuff to dry clean for cheap.” you reasoned.

you felt your heart pound in your chest as you held eye contact with wonbin. you were expecting a rebuttal from him, from anyone before you saw sungchan nod his head.

“there’s discounts for bulk at that place a couple blocks down.” giselle said.

“they could also pay us for buying parts of our uniform.” you added on.

”that would be a dream.” sungchan said.

all of you nodded in agreement before dispersing to get back to your jobs. wonbin hesitated for a second, and your own steps faltered. but he only cleared his throat and went his separate way to tend to a newly sat table.

within two says, there was a list pinned to the corkboard wall for dry cleaning. three times a month, designated days were listed neatly. you already saw a few names, wonbin’s at the very top. you also saw a stack of new waiter aprons and a request sheet to fill out for missing or replacement uniform pieces. you looked around in the break room, feeling angry burn in your chest and eyes. you were hostile the rest of the day, taking it out of your coworkers and customers that were snappy to you first. you didn’t let it out until you caught wonbin in the back of house, sitting in the managers chair as he collected his tips. the anger surged through your fingertips and your feet, causing you to stomp into the room.

“really wonbin?” you called out.

he seemed confused, looking up from his money to your frown.

“what?” wonbin asked.

“i get that this is the first time in your life probably being in a higher up position, but that doesn’t give you the right to claim them as your own.” you quietly yelled.

wonbin sat in the chair, staring at you in shock while your chest finally loosened. the shock and confusion was replaced anger of his own, and you could see wonbin take a deep breath before leaning back in the chair. he looked at you with a calm and even expression now, your exact opposite. he turned in his chair to go back to counting the money.

“i see you haven’t changed one bit.” he said simply.

somehow, that hit you harder than any insult could’ve. it had you averting your gaze from wonbin again, focusing on stacks of paper and the sound of the printer. he said nothing else to you, just letting you bask in the shame of your anger.

when you turned tail to leave you were face to face with a manager, thanking you for your smart idea about the dry cleaning.

“hands please!” winter yelled down the pass.

you snapped up from the barstool, swallowing the week old memory and the stale food so fast it felt like a lump in your throat. you wiped your face with the back of your hand before using a wet napkin to clean your fingers.

you made a straight line for winter working on expo while pinching your server apron between your fingers to dry them. winter’s piercing voice was like a bat signal for the servers, when she spoke suddenly everyone was there. sohee pushed open the two-way door from the kitchen to come to her, with sungchan trailing close behind. eunseok and seunghan were lucky they didn’t have to worry about friday nights, but they had their own personal hell on sunday mornings.

winter handed off everyone’s dishes one by one. you saw more and more people rush off as they had the orders they needed. you waited patiently for winter to hand you the plates.

by the time almost everyone else was gone, you were left with your ungarnished plates.

“i’m swamped, and desserts are coming out soon. can you finish this off for me?” winter asked.

winter posed it as a question and you knew you could say no, but it felt like an order. she barely finished her sentence before she was moving back down the pass, tearing the tickets off to impale them on the metal spindle next to your fries. the pass was empty, and winter relaxed on the barstool to eat your food.

your response to winter sat at the tip of your tongue. your stomach growled, and you started to imagine your tables waiting for their food. were they hungry like you were while you watched winter scarf down the rest of your fries? you could’ve told winter no, to tell her to do your job like you had to do yours. but when you saw wonbin coming to the pass from the dining room you bit your tongue before turning to your plates to garnish.

wonbin saw you finishing the plating. he had empty plates in his hand and was making a path for the dishwasher, but you garnishing your dishes stopped him dead in his tracks. he turned to look at and winter quickly turned to look at him, getting up from her seat to try and look busy working. he saw right through it, tilting his head as she looked at the blank computer screen.

“really winter?” wonbin said.

she quickly shrugged and her eyes got wide to defend herself.

“she doesn’t mind.” she said defensively.

wonbin got a little closer, trying not to make his voice heard.

“she has three large parties all sat within five minutes of eachother. you should do your job so she can do hers.” he said.

winter’s eyes softened sympathetically when wonbin told her about the amount of people. she nodded her head and wonbin headed off to the back of house. he passed by you while you finished your final dish, not sparing you a second glance.

you strategically placed the dishes on the bigger black plate, hoisting it off the pass to rest it on your shoulder. you stole a glance at wonbin for a second, and you could see his eyes dart to the amount of food balancing on your shoulder. the food to feed your seven-top weighed down on you, but you had to start getting the food out now to give yourself grace for the five-top. you could feel winter’s eyes on you as you slowly found the right position for the plate. you turned and started heading for the dining room when you saw sungchan heading straight towards you.

before you could head to the dining room with your food, winter called out to you.

“i have to get this food out to my table.” you said as politely as possible.

“i’ll garnish for the rest of the night. sorry about that.” winter apologized.

the food started to hurt your shoulder, but the acknowledgement and apology from winter made the food feel a little lighter. you nodded your head thankfully before turning back to the dining room.

the rest of the dinner rush went as expected. things went wrong, you had to be bailed out, you had to bail others out. you got tipped well sometimes but got tipped the worst for the bigger parties. you wore yourself ragged jumping up and down for the customers and your coworkers. you ended up staying behind to do opening duties, something that should’ve been reserved for the openers. you were the last of the waitstaff to leave, saying a goodbye to your manager as he locked the door behind you.

when you finally left through the back door into the parking lot, your shift was nearly eleven hours. a quarter after one, calculating your route home made your slippers drag across the paved parking lot as you made your way to your car. you could feel some gravel find its way between the slipper and your foot. the small sharp rock poked through your sock and was stabbed against your foot, but you didn’t care. it paled in comparison to the pain of being on your feet all day. maybe the acupuncture could relieve some of the stress that weighed down on your shoulders.

the sound of your car waking up to you pressing the unlock button distracted you from wonbin on the other side of the parking lot. it wasn’t until he rolled down his manual windows and called out your name that you saw he was there. you have to blink a few times to realize who it was. exhaustion made your eyes droop and a little blurry. when your vision focussed you saw he was beckoning you to come to him. you looked at your car, so ready for you to get inside and drive home. but the guilt your situation carried your tired legs to wonbin’s car. he motioned you to the passenger side. you pulled on the lock handle once, and after wonbin let out an evil giggle he unlocked the door.

you sat quietly in the passenger seat, listening to the quiet music in wonbin’s car. you were only illuminated by the lamppost in the parking lot and the small light in the front seat. you stared straight ahead, awkwardly sitting upright waiting for wonbin to say what he needed to say. his thumbs tapped on his steering wheel, trying to get out what he needed to say.

“you’re overworked.” he said.

you scoffed and shook your hair lightly. you pressed a finger to your temple and turned to look outside.

“everyone is overworked.” you say.

“you are taking on a bigger workload for no reason.” you kept your head turned outside, desperately trying to ignore the caring tone in wonbin’s voice. “just because someone tells you to do something, doesn’t mean you have to.” he says.

“i do it because i want to.” you say quietly.

now it’s wonbin’s turn to scoff at you. you turn your head and narrow your eyebrows.

“what?” you say defensively.

“you want to garnish your own dishes when you have two five-tops and a seven-top waiting on their food?” wonbin asked you a question, but didn’t wait for your answer before shaking his head “give me a break.” he said.

you clench your hands at your sides, trying desperately to remain calm. but wonbin finds ways to push your buttons, found ways to make you so mad. the fake worry, the way he watched your every move without you knowing, the way he was right.

“it’s none of your business what i do.” you said.

“are you just going to keep letting everyone boss you around? do you plan on ever standing up for yourself?” he said.

wonbin had let of of the steering wheel, using his hands to argue with you like he always used to do. you cross your arms into your chest and tilt your head condescendingly.

“you don’t know anything.” you sneer.

“i know you’re making yourself suffer for no reason.” wonbin takes off his beanie, running a stressed hand through his hair. you keep your eye on his hand after sparing a glance to how his hair falls perfectly on his face. “is it because you thought i stole your ideas? so you just don’t advocate for yourself anymore?” he asked.

the incident hadn’t been brought up by either of you since it transpired. you half hoped he would’ve forgotten, but you knew wonbin always remembered. you had to pretend like you didn’t care when you shook your head, turning to look out the window.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.” you lied.

“oh okay.” wonbin laughed. “just because you think we still have childish beef from college doesn’t mean you get to act the way you do.”

“i’m just not used to you being better than me at things.” you say.

it’s a challenge, the way you look at wonbin from your relaxed position on the door. you let your eyes go over his face a million times, resting on his lips after you lick yours. you almost forgot about the rush you got with pushing wonbin’s buttons. the feeling was freeing after a long day of running around for other people all day without saying a single smart remark.

wonbin thinks about the type of person he is now. he thinks about how you two have been in this situation before, with you baiting him. you looked at him the same way you did now. back then he perceived the look in your eye as combative. but now, realization dawned on him. how he had never noticed before was beyond him. his eyes got wide as you leaned in with a smirk on your face. wonbin is timid, refusing to let his mind do something he might regret.

you the one that closes the space between you and wonbin by coming over the center console. you linger there for a second, waiting for his hand to come to your neck before you pull away.

”i’m not sorry by the way,” you brush hair out of wonbin’s face. “you should’ve told you were going to do that before you did it.” you say.

wonbin nods his head, completely giving up any argument he could’ve had with you. your smile is bright—you’ve bested him at another thing.

“i’ll do whatever you want.” he said.

you smiled before going back to wonbin’s lips. his hand on the back of your neck kept you in place, and his tilting head forced you to let him take the lead. you fought for it back through an iron grip on his shirt, pulling him forward.

wonbin settled for letting you stick your tongue in his mouth to let his hand wander your body. he rested over your chest, lightly squeezing your breasts before moving down to your hips. he pulled you forward slightly, a hand underneath your ass lifting for from your seat. you pull away and sigh. wonbin looks at your expectantly, and you let him worry for just a moment before clearing the center console with your legs and straddling him.

“you’re still bossy.” you said matter-of-factly.

“you know, i’m technically not your boss.” wonbin said.

he waited to say it until after his lips were already glossy with your spit and you were straddling his lap. even if whatever you were going to end up doing to wonbin wasn’t allowed, you were too far in now to back down. nothing he said would’ve stopped you from working the buttons on his shirt, or his hands that cupped your chest.

“we can’t get in trouble for whatever we do.” wonbin continued.

he looked up from your chest to look at you. he let your hand go to the buttons on his shirt before he went to yours. it was deliberate and slow, each button made the tension in the car go up. your shirts weren’t even undone all the way before your lips clashed together again.

the kisses were messy like they always were. both of your tongues were mingling, the wet muscles causing a mess on the corner of your lips. the sound of spit being swapped filled the car, and wt kisses cooled the heating skin of your faces. your hands gripped wonbin’s shoulders, and his hand went to your pants. the button was stubborn and wonbin got no help from his shaky hands. it took entirely too long to get your pants open enough for wonbin to plunge his hand underneath the waistband of your panties.

instantly, wonbin almost cursed at your desperation. you were so wet the fabric of your underwear stuck to your folds. he wasted no time slowly sliding a finger into your heat, his eyes focused on your face when he made it to the knuckle. he put his second finger in a little faster, bending them when you brought his lips back in for a kiss.

by the time wonbin put his third finger in your kisses devolved to sucking on his bottom lip. the way you were rutting your hips against his hand and gripping his bicep to keep his hand in place. wonbin watched you use him, unbothered by your desperation. seeing you get wound up so easily and hearing a quiet song about being all alone and needing someone made his dick twitch in his pants.

“been awhile?” wonbin asked.

wonbin’s words were laced with amazement, half talking about himself. the lewd wet sounds and whimpers from you both were already filling up the small space of his car. he was trying to make you feel better while you were still defensive. something in your mind still convincing you everything wonbin said was meant to be sarcastic, even if his pupils were blown wide looking at you.

“shut up.” you whine.

your whiny voice made your words bite less, and the way your hole fluttered around his fingers made wonbin want to keep going. he brought a hand behind your back to pull you further onto his lap. you pressed your chest against wonbin’s, still helplessly rocking your hips into his hand while whimpering into the crook of his neck. he cooed at you and gripped your side to keep you in place. it was the same bruising grip he would have on you in the relationship, one that he would always look at in pride the next morning.

his fingers pushed inside of you at a skilled pace, wonbin would have to pat himself on the back for keeping such a steady groove while he was getting needier by the second. too many times in your relationship he would get lost and chase his own pleasure, going to fast for your liking. but wonbin was matured now, he changed. he could finger you at a pace that made you want more instead of giving you too much, and he could hit the spots you used to like despite the awkward angling in his car. he bent his fingers, smirking to himself when he could feel your body tense.

“fuck.” you moaned into his neck.

you reached out a tongue to lick the hot skin of wonbins neck. he preened closer to your mouth, the only hint he would drop that he wanted you to mark him like old times.

wonbin figured you got the hint, because a desperate hand pushed down his work uniform to uncover previously hidden parts of his neck and chest. your eyes scanned for a second, trying to figure out how high your marks could go while still being hidden. you went for a place on his collarbone and your lips found the perfect spot as if from muscle memory.

“no one will see.” wonbin said.

his hands went to your ass, groping you over the fabric of your pants. he wedged one hand into your pants, reaching all the way down until he could get a handful of you.

you continued sucking on his skin as your hands went down to the tent in wonbin’s pants. you moved so hasty that you didn’t bother with the button. all you did was unzip his pants before reaching into the fly of his underwear to grab his dick. wonbin hiss as he bucked his hips into your hand. his tip was angry and red, glossy from the precum that seemed never ending. his dick sat upright and fit perfectly into your fist.

you wasted no time running your hand up and down wonbin’s length, the sound echoing off the walls in his car. wonbin started sucking on the exposed skin of your chest and laving any area his tongue could reach. you let your body lean back, a spare hand moving your shirt to expose more skin to wonbin. his hands started at your hips and worked their way up, grabbing anything he could. when wonbin got to the nape of your neck he pulled you in for a kiss. desperation from only getting chaste kisses turned to you pumping wonbin’s length faster. he continued to kiss you softly, hissing when the teeth of his zipper rubbed against his sensitive skin.

“does it hurt?” you asked breathlessly.

wonbin nods, reaching for the button of his pants. your shaking hands work together to unbutton the top, and you lift yourself up so wonbin can slide his pants halfway down his thighs.

you two look so pitiful, clothes only half off with forming bruises on your skin. the two of you were breathless only from making out and close to climaxing only from feeling eachother up. you almost forgot you were in the empty parking lot of your job, acting like a reckless horny teenager. if you had half a mind you would’ve gotten dressed and driven home to get ready for your shift tomorrow. but wonbin’s swollen lips called to you, and his dick twitched in your hand without you doing anything. you felt like you were wearing too many clothes and wonbin’s front seat gave you no space.

“should we go to the backseat?” wonbin asked.

you crawled over the center console a little to quickly. you laid down in the backseat, lifting your hips to take off your slacks and panties while wonbin put the driver seat back up. you kicked off your shoes and socks, putting them in the space behind your seat. your button up and bra followed, leaving you completely naked in wonbin’s backseat.

the situation barely had time to settle before wonbin was naked and following you to the back.

“how do you want it?” wonbin asked.

“i don’t know what position is best for car sex.” you said.

you forgot to lace your voice with sarcasm, or something sharp to show wonbin you were still mad. the words only came out whiny, putting a smile on wonbin’s face.

“just tell me what you want,” he runs a finger over the mark on your chest. “it’ll be a nice change of pace for you.” he smiles.

“you’re an asshole.” you said.

you roll your eyes before turning around. wonbin moves back, trying to give you the amount of space you need to get into your position. wonbin knew that you would put your ass up and spread your legs far enough where wonbin could slot between them. he helped you, moving your foot to plant on the floor in front of his so you could find more stability.

”spit” wonbin ordered.

his hand was underneath your mouth, and you gathered the saliva in your mouth to fall into his palm. wonbin’s hand retreated, and you could hear the sound of him spitting and his hand running up and down his dick.

“i haven’t done this in a long time.” wonbin tells you.

wonbin’s wet hand presses on your ass to bring you down slightly. when you hear him moving forward behind you and his tip prods at your entrance, you feel yourself getting lightheaded. the feeling almost makes you forget that you have to atleast try to be a little responsible.

“me neither. but you have to pull out.” you say.

“okay baby.” wonbin says behind you.

“i’m not your baby,” you almost recant your statement when wonbin pushes inside of you. “oh my god.” you moan.

“holy shit.” wonbin curses.

he’s still inside of you when he bottoms out. your walls waste no time clamping around him, almost like they’re trying to keep him inside of you. it’s blinding, and your body tries to adjust to the feeling of wonbin being inside of you again. you barely get used to the stretch before wonbin pulls out and pushes in again.

“so perfect. fits so perfect.” wonbin says.

you can only nod and whimper in agreement when he pushes in again. wonbin’s other hand presses to the side of your ass, spreading both cheeks. something so simple has you feeling something completely different. your whimpers turn you both into moaning messes as wonbin starts thrusting into your spread cunt. your skin is clammy, and wonbin’s hips start pressing against your ass faster and faster. you had to place a hand on the door in front of you for stability. when you tried pushing your hips back to meet wonbin’s he moaned behind you.

“i got you.” he said absentmindedly.

you reacted by reaching your other hand back, reaching for any part of him. wonbin gave you his hand, and then leaned forward to press his sweaty chest to your back.

“wonbin.” you cried.

“i know. i know.” he cooed.

wonbin wrapped his hand around your body, bringing his fingers down to your clit. you could feel his breath hot on the shell of your ear, and you could hear the sounds the sounds he stopped trying to contain. you lifted your back up slightly to be completely pressed against wonbin, so closed you could feel his heart thudding against your back. he sucked on your shoulder blades and let go of your hand wedged between your two bodies to place it over the hand on the door.

“are you close?” wonbin whispered into your ear.

“yes. so close.” you said.

wonbin continued his revolutions on your clit, and started rutting his hips into yours. he was close too, and it took everything in him to not lose himself then and there.

“kiss me baby.” wonbin nearly begged.

you didn’t have to be asked twice to turn your head as far as it would go. wonbin caught your lips hurriedly, placing kisses to your jaw and cheek before kissing your lips successfully. he was overstimulating you both, becoming distracted between all the ways you touched. the fogged windows of his car only made everything worse, heat just circling the area between you two.

you completely froze and no longer kissed wonbin back when you came. it was too hard to focus, each time your walls clamped around wonbin’s dick made you whine out helplessly. you wanted to cry when wonbin pulled away from your body to pull out. your sweat cooling on your ass and back mixed with wonbin’s hot cum. he moaned and pumped his length. he finally letting himself quickly rub at your clit to match the pace of his hand on himself. he kept going, long after the ropes stopped, trying to prolong the feeling of you both experiencing your highs together.

wonbin didn’t pull his hands away until your legs shook and a weak hand pushed his away. your ass went lower and lower and you said nothing while you caught your breath.

wonbin went to the center console of his car, opening it up to pull out napkins from his various takeout orders. he was delicate wiping himself from your back despite wishing he could keep it there forever. you murmured a tired thank you, still in your resting position. wonbin let himself slump into the seat after he cleaned you up, still trying to catch his breath as he pulled up his underwear. he looked at his foggy windows, then to you. wonbin let himself run his hands down the line of your back before affectionately tapping your butt.

“are you alright?” wonbin asked.

your moved from your spot, back on the seat to get more comfortable. wonbin could see sleep pull at your eyelids as you slowly nodded.

“tired.” you said simply.

wonbin nodded knowingly, moving your body so your head rested on his lap. it wasn’t long before your eyes closed all the way, muttering something about giving you ten minutes.

“go ahead.” wonbin ran his hands over creases of your face soothingly. “you got time.” he said

#requestz #01zfan: wonbin #wonbin smut #riize smut

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spacesweepers · 3 months

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Very evil how the fashion, beauty, and interior design industries will declare an entire new aesthetic identity "in" and last year's "out" instead of just specific items. Instead of "buy oversized shades for the summer," it's "live your best taro girl life! buy 20+ items and restructure your identity around an aesthetic that will be discarded and replaced next year!" I think we must do arson.

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unbidden-yidden · 1 year

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Someday everything that made you you will be gone. Your people, your tribe, your family - they will all have chosen to go gently into that good night and your genetic descendents will no longer look or act or think like you. You will have no spiritual descendents. Every feature that made your people distinct will have softened into the general pool of humankind, and evened out to become exactly like everyone else. They will have shed the ritual items that made up your daily life and eschewed the traditional words that connected them to thousands of years of wisdom. The tapestry of your religious and cultural life will have been completely unwound into string and repurposed or disposed of to make a new fabric in the image of the masses. Your people will look and sound and act and speak and think like the homogeneous mass of humanity. No longer will your people's language be heard, for there is no need now that we can all communicate freely. The prayers that connected one generation to the next will be discarded in the garbage heap with all the other pesky superstitions. No more will the rituals that sustained generations in exile and preserved at risk of life and limb be a source of comfort and pride. The beauty of the High Holy Days, the music of the psalms, the flavors of foods designed around kashrut, the scent of b'samim after the sacred rest of Shabbat will reside in the genizah alongside every sefer Torah and siddur and set of tefillin.

None of this will be carved out of you. This is not a threat. This is inevitable, because no enlightened person could possibly choose to live like you. Already an anachronism today, your lifestyle will be unthinkable tomorrow. The names and covenant of commandedness will be willingly forgotten, as your descendents bow to the one Truth of the universe, as defined by the secular society of the day. That I imagine this secular wisdom as matching my culture and defining truth as being singular in the same way that I do is totally coincidental and not at all hegemonic. In this future, there will be no need for your silly superstitions and obviously meaningless rituals and quaint efforts to make the world a better place, because it already will be. Your people will no longer identifiably exist, and that will be right and good and the best possible outcome for everyone. Again, this is definitely not a threat. Your descendents will finally see the light of Logic and Reason and willingly become one with the world. They will have saved themselves from the barbaric practices of a Bronze Age religion and have no need for any such relics. They will shake off the yoke of Torah like raindrops and emerge into the glorious future indistinguishable from the nations. And in so doing, will have accomplished what 2500 years of war and bloodshed and imperialism and exile and pogroms and genocide have not yet achieved: the Jews will willingly surrender their Jewishness, quietly and unceremoniously, as they become enlightened. Remember, this is not a threat. This is simply progress. And inevitable.

#anyway this is what some of y'all really do sound like

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doeshetakecareofu · 2 months

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cottontail

warnings: mature content. matty x fem!reader. does reverse sitting cowgirl even work??!?!?! literally didn’t proofread im too lazy so i hope it makes sense.

note: thank u cristina for the pics :) tea is the blueprint for ‘bunny’ and ‘pet’ so i credit her & molly for this idea but i loose the plot of it halfway through. so.

you’re trotting about on the wooden floor, skipping over to matty who’s sat at the deck. he’s reading, his glasses are on his pointed nose almost falling off with his blue button up, unconfined to his body. the breeze twists his contained curls into a mess, as do the pages of his book when they turn wildly when he places his book down to greet you.

“sweet girl,” he pauses to take you in, you’re dressed in the prettiest easter dress he got you only a week ago. it’s a floral pink, flowy and short with a bow sitting right above your bottom. you hand him his tea in a ivory cup watching his book’s pages move with every jolt of the wind. “come on let me see.” matty finishes and he squeezes your hand as you twirl for him.

he watches your dress lift from your legs as you spin giving him a good look at your panties. you smile when your dress settles back down onto your legs, and matty tugs you forward for a quick peck. you kiss him quickly, and he hums pulling at your dress. “would you look in the room? i left a surprise in there when you were preparing this for me.” matty picks up the tea cup, slurping from it with a sigh and cock of his eyebrow. you nod, leaning over once again to kiss matty’s head “yes daddy.” you say and matty snakes a hand around your hips to squeeze your ass. you yelp then giggle pulling back. “be quick.” he smiles at you with content, watching you prance to the shared room on the yacht.

you step into the plush room, the feeling of the carpet invades your feet as you scan the room for matty’s said ‘surprise’. your eyes land on the foot of the bed, it’s an outfit frilly at almost every side with a cottontail at the end.

you step closer to the bed sliding the door shut behind you quietly, pulling your easter dress down. humming with curiosity you crawl onto the bed straddling yourself atop the items gently picking up the pieces of fabric and a collar with a heart center.

the heart center is shiny, new and untouched with your trembling fingers smudging the metal. you fix yourself on the other items on the sheets pulling a lacy panty to your face examining it along with its tail, it’s a simple ball of scut along the panties top acting as a little button tail. you drop the panties lifting the matching corset top, which is filled with intricate designs. you take a look at the creamy white stockings, stretching the nylon fabric and letting it go with a snap as it returns to your hand back to its original form. you almost feel your heart jump out of your chest with the last item, bunny ears. they have a cheap feeling to them, as if matty just picked them up in the easter section. knowing him he probably did and you feel your heart swell saccharine.

your face contorts into a smile, feeling your cheeks heat you quickly reach behind you unclasping your floral dress with a few tries of course. slipping it off from the bottom up taking some of your hair with it. you sit on the white sheets naked, topless that is, clad in your panties you take the collar. it’s harsh, tough even when you place it on your neck. the heart seeps into your neck and you buckle it in the back making sure you’re still able to twist it around if needed. the collar feels different, you tug at it a bit gulping each time you do to test if you can breathe and swallow saliva.

taking the corset top you put it against your chest quickly reaching back to clasp the eyelets you can. you sigh at the top struggling to close it. with defeat you take a look in the mirror just besides the bed, it looks good enough and you shrug picking up the cottontail panties. you fall back in bed shimming out of your previous panties discarding them in the corner of the room in exchange for the lacy white ones.

you feel the panties invade your body tucked in crevices and you shudder telling yourself they’ll be off soon. you take the stockings slipping them on quickly rolling off the bed to the mirror where you twirl in the mirror examining the outfit matty’s set out for you. turning back to the bed you take the fuzzy ears, the last of your outfit as you hear matty’s footsteps. you quickly push the ears onto your head fixing your hair while batting your eyelashes. matty knocks and slides the door open revealing himself in the doorway. you act as if you didn’t hear him, all for his entertainment of course so you let out a gasp.

matty chuckles stepping into the room closing the door behind him slowly. “do you like it?” he’s breathy, and pulling at his clothes stringently. you stand looping a finger through your underwear’s string and with a snap you nod, amorously smiling. matty steps towards you cupping your cheeks before anything else, murmuring into the kiss. you nod at his incoherent words softly running your hands against his bicep giving it a squeeze. he responds to the touch verbally, it’s muffled of course but it makes your heart pound. he pulls away from the kiss, his lips are smeared with your baby pink lipgloss, a bit of glint and glitter is on his lower lip tantalizingly you kiss him again. this time he’s pulling your chin up to meet him, he pries at your collar looping a finger through the metal heart drawing you close. in a moment matty releases you from the kiss grinning while gently bringing you down to the plush comforter. he has you spread out, your silky lingerie is fitting, snug in all the right places as he towers over you.

matty still hasn’t touched you yet. this is painfully slow waiting for invasive, perverted hands to prod, pinch, and pull at all parts of you. he stays lingering over your body, it’s small compared to his own which pushes itself in between your legs, creating a nook.

your heat is fluttering in your panties just meeting his clothed cock. he helplessly ruts in between you with stifled groans and you’re pulling him closer almost consuming him whole. matty is pressed against your toy frame. you’re ravenous while you nip at his swollen lips and he simpers prettily as you move to his neck planting glossy kisses all over the pebbled skin.

matty gasps holding himself up above your body, as you unbutton his navy blue dress shirt. he shakes it off himself desperately where you find his collarbones, they’re sharp and deep. you reach for them harshly biting deep enough to leave him hissing.

“oh fuck, don’t do that — hurts” he winces out his eyes are dark, not an ounce of brown glimmers in them. you decide to make it up to him by sliding your tits out of the corset top. you hook your fingers at it sliding it down to your abdomen. he traces against your own ribs almost counting each. “made for me,” he murmurs to himself pawing at you softly almost afraid to hurt you.

you push your chest out encouraging him to take more of you, all of you - but he can only take bits and pieces. he ducks down to lick a stripe at your nipple and you feel your pussy clench again in desperation.

he’s panting at your tits, nipping and drooling sloppily. he likes it messy, he always has. you knead your fingers into his scalp pushing countless curls from his head and he surges forward still groping your breasts. you feel your heart inside your ribs growing fonder to his touches and licks. matty’s saliva is littering your heaving chest when he comes up to look at you. you look down at yourself, he’s still nestled in between you. his cock is prominent in his slacks and he’s standing again to remove his dress pants. before he removes them you sit up quickly tugging at the waistband.

he stops, wiping his wet mouth with his arm as you pull at the slack undoing his button passing it through the cotton to unfasten it. matty runs fingers through your hair stopping at the nape of your neck to give it a squeeze. you blush wildly, unzipping his pants observing his underwear choice. you leave his trousers open for you to snake a hand into them rubbing his cock through the boxers. you watch his hip bones pop out at you with his clenching stomach. you swear the ink littering his left hip glows, a memoir from his adolescence. matty shivers under you, pushing you back onto the bed. you yelp as your hand leaves his warm cock where they meet your breasts again, holding them together. “don’t hide - wanna see you,” he climbs on top the bed pulling your hands from your breasts.

you give in letting him worship your tits once again, leaving the rest of you insufficient for more. he laps at your tits, slovenly pinching your nipples and you feel your cunt retract. “matty, please fuck me” you whine and he leaves your tits looking at you bemused. “don’t want me to make love to you?” he goes back to your tits lapping at one, planting kisses around the skin of it. before you have time to respond he bites at your nipple. you gasp, and matty is towering over you again pulling his slacks off. “want me to fuck this bunny cunt like a whore?” he smirks kicking his pants away and you blush. you cant help it, he knows exactly how you like taking it.

you hum and nod watching him in the mirror from behind him. “please, mister” matty cocks his eyebrow, he’s pleased and you watch his cock grow even more in his boxers. he’s handling his cock gently, preparing it for your pussy and you refrain from touching yourself. matty’s showing off now, letting his cock peek out from the waistband of his garments. you whine, like a pet pawing at your own tits and matty snickers.

he leaves you at the foot of the bed, making his way to the side of it discarding his boxers. “on fours, come on.” you sit up all too quickly your bunny ears almost fall off as you shift in bed adjusting yourself to align with matty who’s orient to the mirror in front of you two. you’re practically jolting in your skin when matty pulls your frame closer to him. he’s on his knees behind you, his cock perfectly set out for you.

“sweet coney,” he groans harshly prodding at your wet slit. “slutty pussy is all wet for me,” matty continues teasing you through the panties. he coos, rubbing over your clit in circles then returning to your hole slowly pushing the panties watching your pussy swallow them whole. he lets out a breathy laugh, “you’re soaking through your underwear, pet.” you’re desperately pushing your cottontail into the air for more of matty but he never obliges.

you nod at all of matty’s utters and demeaning, pushing your ass back onto him for the last time and hes finally gracious with you, sliding your panties to the side of your sopping cunt. he hums pulling your hips back a bit only to slide his cock up and down into your slit which welcomes him. he bites back a groan chewing on his lips and you can see his face in the mirror. his chest is heaving, using his non dominant hand to steady your squirming body and the other to tease you. he takes his time, letting you whine and push back letting him know you need it. matty feigns an innocent smile, letting himself drag the tip of his cock right over your clit circling it. he watches you in the mirror and you give him your prettiest face, he loves every second of it, pushing his cock right into your clit for enough pressure to make your body stutter.

matty grins at you in the mirror, sitting back on his bottom leaving his legs to extend in front of him. you shift out from on your chest looking at him and he motions to come closer. you oblige, moving backwards to meet him and he fixes you right above his cock. he tugs at your waist, pinching it meanly and you wince when he speaks. “want you to use my cock, fuck yourself on me.” he undoes your corset top truly letting your tits free and he’s discarding it on the floor reaching up to massage them. you watch his hands invade your tits again but he quickly pulls them back snaking his hand back to his cock. he lines it up with your fluttering cunt and you cry when his tip pries through you again. “come on coney,” he refers to your outfit and the compromising position he has you in.

you let out a swallowed whine from your throat letting yourself fall back onto his cock. it fills you and your pussy struggles to adjust to him, his cock twitches inside you and your pussy pools again right around him. matty slowly guides you, bobbing you up and down until you’re able to do it yourself. sometimes you lean against him for support and other times you fall forwards. you take this opportunity to grind onto matty, his cock circles in your stomach you can feel it twist inside you, all your intestines make way for him. “oh my god, matty” you moan into the room, watching your breasts bounce in the mirror, how matty’s hands are hooked onto your hips, your thighs, looping through your stockings.

“thought you were calling me mister?” matty growls pulling you back to lean onto his frontside, you cry and his fingers are hooking into your mouth leaving you drooling. “‘m sorry, mister.” you continuously try to bounce on matty, or create some sort of friction but he’s got you restrained with forceful fingers and a gripping hand on your waist. “fuck, look at how beautiful you look. like a wet dream, fucking yourself on my cock.” your cunt clenches around matty and you hear him groan behind you. “you liked hearing that right, bunny? fucking felt it.” you nod and his digits leave your mouth. (saving you some dignity with the drool thing)

matty lets you keep your pace as your ears almost fall off, you keep sliding them back up with a shaky arm looking back at matty’s satisfied face. “i’m gonna come, shit” he curses out giving your thigh a slap. “god, love having your tiny little body for me. fucking me so well, bunny” he groans pulling at the cottontail on your panties. “wish i had you spread out on my cock everyday, bouncing on me like a rabbit.” matty’s words only egg you on, wanting to move faster you fly forward pushing back onto matty’s cock and he curses your name. his cock twitches inside you and he spills, leaving you with his seed. you don’t stop, you need your orgasm too more than ever now. you still make do with matty’s cock, with every slide you’re squelching down on him and you know he’s leaking out of you dripping onto his base.

you look into the mirror, pushing your ears up again and matty takes his hand looping it through your collar. he yanks you back onto him. you’re nestled in between his legs and he’s biting at the crook of your neck that doesn’t hide. “fuck, are you that much of a whore? cant even cum with my cock buried inside you?” you whine and shake your head as matty pushes you forward. his cock slides out of you, and you shamefully feel his juices slipping out of you dripping onto the sheets.

you’re on your chest again, heaving against the sheets craning your neck to have a look at what matty’s doing. you feel it before you see it, hes propping you up right again to slide himself into you.

he struggles at first, sucking at his cheek but he enters you again resting over you. he starts slamming into you and your mouth opens with a moan. it stays hanging open as matty drills into you desperately trying to get you to come. his body drapes over you in the mirror, and he pulls your ears off onto the bed somewhere. “look at yourself, aren’t you pretty?” he whispers, pushing your jaw to look up at you two in the mirror. you see yourself dumb around his cock, shaking with every bite he snags around your shoulder.

matty snakes his arm around your neck, almost choking you with his bicep. he squeezes your neck until you’re whining, squirming under him begging him to stop.

you feel a familiar sensation build in your stomach and cunt which shoots all the way to your hammering heart and you let out a cry. “oh my, fuck, im coming.” you spit out in intervals and the grip matty has on you tightens as he bites down on your shoulder. you feel matty buck into you one last time before he’s coming inside you again and you feel your orgasm release onto his cock. “you’re so good, bunny look at you.” matty kisses your shoulder, still you’re trapped by his arm as he moves your hair with his other hand. you nod looking at matty’s pink lips, they’re ajar and wet just like yours. matty whispers praises of adornment, “good girl, good fucking girl. knows how to get fucked.” and you’re nodding to whatever he has to say while he litters your purple neck.

the weight of matty’s body becomes apparent after your orgasm, hes crushed you, bruising you in all sorts of places. when he leaves your cunt, you lay back onto the stained sheets breathless. you watch matty get up as you tug at your collar sliding it around to find the clasp. you unclasp it, throwing it onto the ground and sigh now that your neck is free of the leather.

you watch matty come back through half lidded eyes with a rag and striped boxers. he sits on the bed softly cleaning off your makeup and body with the rag. he pecks your forehead letting you sleep soundly for the rest of the night.

#matty healy #the 1975 #matty healy x reader #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy smut #the 1975 smut #i miss him badly

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campbell-rose · 7 months

Text

Helluva Rewrite (and some of my personal doodles)

Alrighty, so I finally found the motivation to draw up the entire I.M.P crew and finalize their designs! Introducing my version of the new and improved Immediate Murder Professionals!

I'm so freaking lazy so I didn't add shading or anything extra like that because ughhh. I also decided on some defining traits for imps depending on their ring, but only for the gang and the rings we've seen in the show so far

Wrath imps are larger, stronger, and spikier than other imps. Lust imps have varied bodies, but all have heart shaped barbs on their tails and leathery wings on their lower back. Greed imps are more slender than other imps and often wear jewelry. Gluttony imps are small and fast, high metabolisms so they can gorge. Sloth imps are easy to identify because they usually are just lying there doing fuck all and lack barbs on their tails.

Also, the scarring for imps is the same. White markings indicate scars. In the show I feel like it’s hard to tell what’s a scar (like Blitzo’s facial marks) and what’s a birth mark (like Moxxie’s freckles) so for my own sake, white marks are scars, black marks are birth marks or tattoos, end of story. Millie got her scars from fighting in the wrath ring, Blitzo got his scars from the explosion, and Moxxie’s freckle-like scars are cigarette burns. Should also note that imps are immune to hellfire, but not normal fire because... uhhh idk honestly it just seems more logical.

~ Helluva cutoff starts here ~

I kinda wanna show off my own imp designs for my little demon thing because helluva boss posts get traction and I just wanted someone to see them, so if you only came here for helluva content, feel free to stop reading lol

Okay, so I wanted the imps to all look like the same species but at the same time not at all. Essentially the imps in my series are based more on folklore surrounding them. In christian folklore imps are straight up evil, but I want all of my imps to just be little guys. Look at em, they’re just little guys. Imps were sometimes thought of as the familiars of witches, taking forms of different animals, so I wanted some of the imps to look animalistic, but it’s their behavior that reflects it more (which is hard to show in a still doodle). Also the imps are just color coded here so I know which is which, imps aren’t actually these specific colors in my world.

Greed imps tend to bind themselves to objects that they particularly adore – in some tellings imps were bound to objects like crystals and could be summoned by their masters. So Greed imps often have a specific item bound to them that they guard with their lives.

Sloth imps are the most harmless when they’re tired, it’s when they’re awake that they become the full on imps of folklore. They’re often paid in sugar cubes and used as servants in the sloth ring.

Gluttony imps are alluding to the fae origin of imps in Germanic folklore, having wings and being generally bug like and little shits. I wanted them to look like pixies almost.

Envy imps are the more attention seeking type who play tricks on humans to garner a reaction. Tricks such as attempting to drown people and such – harmless fun, you know? They’re actually a little based on Kappa I'll admit.

Lust imps have the habit of snatching babies, as in a lot of demons associated with lust (such as Lilith) tend to be obsessed with babies/pregnancy. The lust imps are nearly infertile, so they love taking babies to raise, then discard them once they’re annoyed.

Pride imps are based on the Lincoln imp (in short an Imp threw a rock at an angel and got turned into stone). They’re fluffy and covered in shiny fur since they live in the frozen layer of hell. Their horns are the largest of all imps, and their biggest source of pride – like if they break their horns, they’d rather die than live with the shame because their horns don’t grow back.

Wrath imps are based on the old art of imps you can find – bald little creatures with horns and tails. They’re the more feral animalistic imps, often acting on pure instinct and lacking much social structure. They do tend to exercise in their own way, as strength is their greatest feature.

Anywho if you read all that omg thank you for feeding my ego teehee. But for real, as much as I hate digital, I did enjoy drawing out the imp gang, I might (keyword MIGHT) draw out some rewritten scenes in comic format the most daunting part is actually doing it lmao.

I probably won't shove my own stuff into posts too often, I mostly did it because I wanted to compare my ideas for Imps to Viv's because I think mine are better sorry not sorry lmao. I like to actually research what I'm doing and incorporate it into my art and creations because i think of it like little easter eggs for people who like the things I like. Viv's version of Hell is my least favorite mostly because everything she does feels like bible fanfiction written by a middle schooler who thinks shouting penis in class is the peak of comedy.

#anti vivziepop #anti helluva boss #helluva boss redesign #helluva boss rewrite #helluva rewrite #oc art #minor demonology discussion #my art

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scuttlingcrab · 3 months

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"The doublet is a magical item, so it can fit and mould to Raphael’s body no matter his form or temper." Now I'm just picturing Raphael transforming in anger while wearing the doublet and his rage is momentarily stopped when he realizes that it transformed with him and wasn't even singed.

Like, I could be incredibly angry with someone, but if I suddenly realized that my dress had pockets in it I know darn well that I'd need to at least stop and take a moment to marvel at that discovery before even thinking about continuing on with my anger. 😅

I was literally working on something similar when you sent your message! I've attached the ask below I was initially responding to. Thank you for your message anon and hope you enjoy! x

"Also, the idea of Raphael showing off his new clothes is just- It just tickles me! I can see him preening and flaunting like a peacock because of Tav's gift. I'd honestly read a sequel piece about that, if you want to write it. I've kinda already fallen in love with the whole idea of a luxury magic tailor Tav that the initial prompt fill and response has created as well as that Tav's potential dynamic with Raphael (and other characters *looking at Gale and his sewing needle quip*) and would absolutely be down to read more of that from you! 👀"

Summary: Raphael is caught off guard by his recent gift from Tav, so he decides to pay his little mouse a visit.

Notes: Read A Perfect Fit, which inspired this continuation.

Link to my other work in the Devil's Archive.

Dressed to Kill

Raphael stomped through the halls of the House of Hope, shedding his mortal skin. The doublet didn’t set fire when Raphael transformed, instead, it morphed with his growing size. The silk fabric soothed his ridged body, feeling like a warm embrace. Raphael suppressed a scream. Wretched mortal! The debtors scurried out of his path like rats, seeking the shadows for an ounce of solace from the blistering rage.

He passed an open window and jolted to a halt. The blood-red light of Avernus caught the designs of his doublet, causing it to glimmer like diamonds. During his shift, the colour of his clothing changed. It now had a dark golden shimmer, the infernal embroidery a deep blue. He extended his arm, admiring the sleeve as he twisted it only slightly, and watched as the adornment reflected tiny devilish patterns onto the marble floors. The decorations moved, as if dancing. Another interesting, subtle detail.

Staring at these animations, Raphael’s breath calmed, his mind cleared. He stood taller, his head never held so high. Abruptly he spotted one of the debtors staring at him from his peripheral and lowered his hand, slowly turning to face them. Fire burned in Raphael’s eyes as he hissed, barring his sharp teeth. The debtor screeched before scurrying off to continue their meaningless eternal task.

“If I catch just one more incompetent lackey idling about, I will impale your sorry souls on trees and leave you to rot. You are all interchangeable. Do not forget that.”

Raphael watched as the last debtor fled from his sight. He will not be caught off guard again. No. In fact… he will pay that creature a visit.

–

Raphael materialised at the creature's camp in a swirl of flames and sparks, returning to his mortal disguise.

The camp was quiet at this hour, the creatures asleep, separated into their individual makeshift tents. And what a ghastly camp it was, third-rate, at best. Miscellaneous equipment littered every corner, books lay discarded, shoddy clothes hung drying on trees, and the animals… When did these mortals domesticate owlbears? Savages.

He slowly approached Tav’s tent, nestled towards the lake's shoreline. He parted the flap with an index finger and peeked inside. The creature was fast asleep, sharing her tent with that monstrosity Karlach.

He watched them sleeping, so defenceless. He perked up at the thought. If he was so inclined, he could have easily ended their lives, consumed their souls before the tadpoles defiled them; all it would take is a snap of his fingers…

“Rise and shine, little mouse.” Raphael purred.

Tav sprang up from her bed roll, clumsily readying a dagger from her sleeve. She held it out towards Raphael, one eye still closed, as she fought off the interrupted slumber.

Karlach simply turned over in her bedding, yawning and stretching like a cat. She slowly opened her eyes, sitting upright when she spotted Raphael standing at the entrance.

He smirked in response, placing a hand on his hip.

“What the hell is this creep doing here?”

“Good evening to you too, Karlach. I am simply checking in on my prospective clients.”

Raphael bowed deeply, making sure to be as flamboyant as possible in his gesture.

“In the middle of the bloody night? Fuck off, devil.”

Raphael slowly straightened himself, adjusting his sleeves. He aimed his cuffs towards the campfire, taking care to make sure the lighting was just right to highlight the devilish decorations.

“Tut, tut, Karlach, language. If I wanted to hear such hideous sounds I’d speak with a lemure.”

Karlach leapt to her feet, the rickety infernal engine in her chest glowing brighter as she stared daggers at him.

“Karlach, please…”

Tav raised a hand at Karlach, putting away her weapon. She rubbed away the rest of the sleep and focused on Raphael. Her face instantly lit up when she caught sight of his doublet.

“You’re… wearing it?” Tav whispered. She brought her hands to her mouth, attempting to hide her flushed cheeks.

“But of course! How could I resist such a delicious gift? It’s not often a devil like myself comes across a mortal with such curious tastes. Your attention to detail is…”

Raphael dramatically clasped his hands together, as if in a prayer. Yes, indeed. Thank the Gods up above for damning these poor creatures and sending them straight into his claws.

“Superb!”

“Hells, what have you done?” Karlach groaned, rolling her eyes. “I told you it was a bad idea.”

Tav gave Karlach a sidelong glance, narrowing her eyes. Raphael’s smile grew, devouring the creature’s disapproval and embarrassment. Almost as scrumptious as a soul.

“You are quite the seamstress. What else have you been creating on your adventures, hmm? I wonder, what would be the price for another item such as this? Perhaps we can come to some sort of agreement?”

Tav’s mouth hung open at his words.

“I-I-uh, didn’t think that far ahead. Let me sleep on it.”

“Don’t keep me waiting, little mouse. You had my curiosity, but now… you have my full attention.”

Raphael raised his arms out wide, like a peacock strutting their finest feathers. He laughed as he surrounded himself in infernal flames. He had truly stumbled upon his greatest prize, his secret weapon to uniting the Nine Hells. Raphael would reach his target soon, that was for certain, but oh, oh yes... he would look hellishly chic in his pursuits. He would turn heads, devils and mortals alike.

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wheresmymilliondollarman · 1 year

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Hiii! I've discovered your account recently and you can definitely count me as one of your fans! Also I've never saw someone write for book bfs before so that's cool of you to do it ! I really don't know if you take requests but if u don't it's ok! but if you do can I have an Kenjix reader where she's a trained spy with no powers and Aaron send her on a mission with Kenji where she hates him at first but then she gets to know him and fall for him ? (Maybe w/o spoilers for books after ignite me)

how you get the girl

kenji kishimoto x fem!reader

you were never fond of the newest recruit, but after being assigned on a mission with him, your perspective might just change.

a/n: ty for the request!! been wanting to write for kenji, but struggled with a concept, so this is a great idea !! this is more an au thing, not based on a certain timeline in the series, so it should be spoiler free !! there also a hunger games reference in this bc i can't help myself. extra note: thank you for being so patient i had to go on n unexpected hiatus because i got sick then a bunch of stuff in my life is happening right now, so it was hard to write. but i have finally have time again somewhat and i want to get inspo to write <3

word count: 6.8k

warnings: really bad corny pick-up lines, kinda bad description of action LOL, mentions of injuries and blood, take a shot every time reader rolls her eyes

your home lied within the reestablishment for as long as you could remember. your father had stood behind the idea since it first became conceived.

before the reestablishment came along, your family lived in the trenches of poverty. living in a one-bedroom apartment in the unsafest part of the city. most lived the same since the world was slowly deteriorating — counties went hungry, climate change affected natural resources, and the grasp of government control slipped away. it seemed like the end of the world for some, but you were too young to say for sure.

your mother came down with an illness when you were around three. it was unsure of what it was, but it damaged her greatly and fatally. your father attempted to gather the money to see a doctor, pawning items, stealing money, and even asking the government for assistance, but it all became futile. your mother ended up passing a few months later.

your father’s grief and rage at society drove him toward the direction of the reestablishment. they had already been around quite some time, but no one ever took it seriously - another political group with empty promises, they called it. but your father had faith in their potential, he had to, now that he wanted to ensure a better future for yourself. so, he offered his undying loyalty to the group, and they took an interest in that and offered him a low level job.

within years, he worked his way up in power, helped enhance the reestablishment’s control over the world, and soon they were the sole government. many resisted, but the majority resided their fate to them because how much worse could the world get?

overtime, the distant memories of the old world faded and were forgotten by many, including yourself. all you knew and lived was reestablishment life. books, movies, devices, or anything pertaining to before reestablishment life was discarded. you were too young to even remember most of those things. so, unlike others, you never felt like you missed out on anything.

you were trained to be a soldier since practically diapers. the rebellion against the reestablishment was prominent during its early years, so your father ensured you could defend yourself properly if the worse were to come. with your agility and stealth, you were recruited to be a spy for them, infiltrating other bases and spying on the rebellion.

your father now works closely with supreme commander anderson at the capital, but you’ve designated yourself to sector 45, along with warner. he recognized your talent the moment he met you and employed you to his sector. that was how it became your current home.

your father was more than thrilled you impressed the commander’s son, telling you it was important to have their favor. ever since, he’d push the idea of you two, repeating that if you played your cards right, you could become the future supreme commander’s wife.

you felt nauseous at the idea. you would never want to be a second in command helping run a country, much less marry the person who does.

“hey! warner’s calling you into his office.” a voice called out to you.

you snapped out of your daydream, remembering your current location. you stood in the training room, gloves on, practicing your punches onto one of the many punching bags. you tended to zone as as you got more into your workout.

you turned around to face the soldier who had come in for the purpose of recalling a message, “thank you, tell him i will be there immediately.” he gave a curt nod and headed out.

you sighed, you were sure you were about to be sent on another mission to gather data. and normally, you would’ve been up for it, dying to put your skills to use. but lately, it seems the passion has disappeared. it was getting too repetitive for your liking, and you feared the rest of your life would play out the same.

you gathered your belongings, stuffing your water bottle and gloves back into your gym bag, and replaced your sweaty black shirt with a plain gray one.

you procrastinated as much as possible on the way to warner’s office. you are in no rush to head back out into the field or hear warners endless instructions on the mission. for once, you envied the low ranked soldiers. warner never expected much of them, so they were often overlooked and free to do as (possibly) pleased. you were expected to be no less than perfect.

you took a deep breath before knocking on the office door. once warner granted permission, you entered the room, and the first thing you noticed was another person was already there — one you recognized to be one of warner's many men, kenji kishimoto.

‘this is already off to a bad start,’ you told yourself. kenji was fairly new to the unit, joining a bit over a year ago. you never saw him much because of how busy you are, but due to his poor performance, warner had assigned you to train him for a week.

it hadn’t been your first time training a soldier, so you were prepared to follow a routine and help him get the hang of basics. but you quickly learned kenji was going to be a pain in your ass.

first, he was half an hour late to your training, wasting time you could’ve used for your own personal agenda. then, when he showed up, he acted nonchalantly about it. you decided to brush it off and just get the training over with than argue and waste more time. but as training commenced, he started acting condescending towards you. asking if you were sure what you were doing and whether you were the most qualified person to be instructing him. again, you ignored him and remained professional — trying your best to just finish off the lesson without any hassle.

the final straw for you came when you asked him to throw a punch to examine his form and offer critiques. to this responded, “are you sure about that? wouldn’t want to hurt you, sweetheart.” he said haughtily. you just about had it by then.

in a quick movement, you threw a punch to his face, twisted his arm, and flipped him onto the mats. “sorry, did i hurt you sweetheart?” you asked in a condescendingly sweet tone. all kenji does is groan in response.

after, you just stormed off and informed warner he would no longer be in charge of his training. you offered him no explanation and simply walked out of his office. if you hadn’t been so upset, you would’ve slapped yourself for being so careless in front of the commander's son. but fortunate to you, warner had no objections and simply tasked someone else to teach kenji.

however, that wasn’t even the end of your meeting. despite you bruising his face, kenji started to follow you like a puppy. you suddenly would run into him at least once a day. you swore he had to be somehow following you, and pretending it was a coincidence the two of you ran into each other. despite your expertise in the art of spying, you were never able to catch him in the act. you could sometimes feel a pair of eyes on you, but when you turned around, there was no one there.

you told him many times to leave you alone, but that only seemed to intrigue him more. he went from condescending to flirting with you. you weren’t sure which one was worse. you were starting to think the latter because of his awful pickup lines.

“do you have a name, or can i just call you mine?”

“oh god, i’m gonna throw up.”

“i’m going for a walk, would you mind holding my hand?”

“if you get your hand near me, it’s getting cut off.”

“i love it when you talk dirty to me.”

“do you travel through time? because i’ve pictured you in my future.”

“you’re not going to have a future, if you utter another word.”

“let me be the flynn rider to your rapunzel.”

“one, shut up. two, who are they?”

“what! you don’t know the amazing film that is tangled?”

“never mind, forget, i asked..”

no matter your reply, he never seems to get the hint. no, scratch that, he definitely got the hint he just simply did not care. this guy could be hit with a tank, and you were convinced he’d still have some stupid line to say to you.

back to your current predicament, you were unsure why warner would call for kenji as well. you were hoping they were just finishing up a conversation, and you happened to be a bit early. which you kinda doubted because you had taken as long as you possibly could to get to this room.

you walked up to warner’s desk, “you called for me sir?” you questioned. the sooner you got your task, the sooner you can get away from the man next to you.

kenji turns his attention toward you, unfortunately for you, “hey gorgeous, funny seeing you around here.” he says with a stupid smirk accompanying.

“not really.” you spoke bluntly.

before he can speak any more, dumb words, warner clears his throat indicating he is about to speak. “yes i did, and as you can see, i also called kishimoto here because I wanted to speak to the both of you.”

oh no. you weren’t liking where this was going so far, especially since this is an issue needing both of your presence in the room. you prayed he wasn’t about to assign you to train with kenji again. you lucked out last time, but there is no way you would be able to again decline in a way that wouldn’t defy warner. you remained stoic and nod to his words, waiting in suspense for his instructions.

“oh please go on, i’m intrigued.” kenji inquires. warner pays no mind him, nice to see you’re not the only one who does that.

“the reason for that is, i am in need of both of you for a mission in favor of the reestablishment.” he explains, folding his hands together neatly on his wooden desk.

technically, your prayer was granted; you didn’t need to train kenji. no, instead you had to go & work with him on a mission. ‘that’s why they say be careful what you wish for.’

you couldn’t protest and say absolutely not, or you just look like a child throwing a tantrum. it took a good portion of your self-control to keep that apathetic look on your face. but even then, your left eye reflexively twitched in irritation.

“no disrespect to your order sir, but why is kishimoto needed? i can handle myself quite well if you didn’t already know.” you try to reason.

“are you that nervous to be with me?” kenji interrupts smugly. you can’t help but stomp on his foot, even if it is a bit childish, your face neutral, not even sparring a look his way.

kenji yelps in pain, but still remarks, “nice to see your love language has switched from verbal threats to physical violence.”

warner, unbothered by your actions, replies, “i’m well aware of your capabilities l/n. but this task is a bit more dire than your usual requests. i’d prefer if you had a helping hand. plus, kishimoto still needs practice in the field and there’s no better example to follow than you.”

“thank you sir, for the compliment, but-“

“is that an objection to an order, l/n?” warner challenged you, raising a brow. you knew that was the end of it. as much as you didn’t like kenji, it wasn’t an issue worth being on warner’s bad side for.

“no,” you stated defensively, “of course not, sir, i am ready to serve the reestablishment as needed,” you restate your loyalty, but these days it felt like empty words.

“i, for one, have no issue with this request sir. i’m more than willingly to go along with y/n on this secret mission.” kenji proclaims with a gleeful smile.

“great, because the both of you will be departing tomorrow morning.” warner informed, leaning back into his seat. “that will be all,” he dismissed with a wave of a hand.

kenji and you both respectively nodded and turned your backs to walk away and exit his office. once you’re in the hall, your cool demeanor vanquishes and is replaced with a distasteful look. you simply couldn’t believe this was happening. you got partnered with the guy who you heard already had 19 demerits. surely, the world was punishing you.

opposite to you, kenji stood there with a sneaky smile, obviously enjoying how today’s events played out. it only annoyed you further.

“well, well, well,” he begins, “i guess we’ll be spending quite a bit of time with each other. you never know how long these missions take perhaps will be stuck teach with each other for a whole month. wouldn’t that just be exciting?” kenji teases, draping an arm over your tense shoulders.

you rolled your eyes and roughly pushed his arm off of you, “this operation is solely for professional purposes, kishimoto. we’ll be in and out then come back and relay information. then i go back to ignoring you.” you don’t bother to wait for a reply and start the walk to your living, quarters to prepare for your departure.

“i’ll grow on you eventually y/n!” he hollers at you as you venture further down the hall.

you dreaded the events to come the moment you opened your eyes to woke up.

a part of you had hoped your talk with warner yesterday had been a nightmare, but as soon as you saw your packed bag on your dresser, you knew it was your reality.

you hopped in the shower for a quick wash, braided your hair, and suited up in all black attire. you slip your bag over your shoulder and reluctantly walk out your room. from there, you made your way to the weaponry.

at the weaponry, you didn’t see kenji’s face; you had hope there was still a possibility he would not end up going along with you, and he would either be replaced, or you be left to your own devices. you started supplying weapons into your bags and filling the holsters strapped on your body.

“can’t believe you already started without me, angel.” you hear a voice announce from behind you.

you groaned, apparently, it was too much to ask to wish him away. he reminded you of a small insect that just refused to die no matter how many times you stepped on it with your foot.

he doesn’t miss a beat, moving to the spot next to you, “don’t sound too excited, or else i’d start to think you like me,” kenji playfully remarks.

you scoff, “only in your wildest dreams.”

“right you are.” you grimace at his reply.

“can you just hurry up? the sooner we set off the better.” you urge him.

he doesn’t deter from his smugness at your fierce attitude, “if you were so eager to be alone with me, you should’ve just told me, would’ve saved us a lot of trouble.”

you groaned, already sick of being around him. how were you supposed to do this for a day, or even more? “you have five minutes or swear to god i’m leaving without you.” you promised on your way out.

you made good of your word, and waited by the plane for approximately five minutes (you even counted down the seconds in your head). warner assigned a plane for the both of you, with its own pilot, to take you to your destination.

you wait until the last second before you board the small plane to inform the pilot to prepare for take off. not even a minute later, you hear the movement of footsteps rushing towards the vehicle. you try to conceal your look of disappointment when you see it, kenji coming toward you.

you step down the plane to coldly greet him, “you’re lucky you made it, i was prepared to about to leave without you,” you tell kenji seriously. “i suppose i can always just push you off the plane one we take off to rid of you,” you nonchalantly suggest.

he just laughs in response, thinking there’s no way you would actually take off without him, his laughter silences down when you offer no humor in your tone, nor your face. “you are just kidding right?”

you remain silent, and turn your back to board the plane.

“..right?” he calls at you, a hint of worry in his tone. the corner of your lip tugs up in amusement as you walk off.

“wow, this spy stuff is quite boring.” kenji complains aloud. “how are you ever entertained doing this on your own? thank goodness you have me around now. perhaps we can even be some sort of duo, we can even have a cool name - the terrific two? nah. the dangerous duo? eh. oh wait, i’ve got it! mr. and mrs. smith-“

“will you shut up!” you turn your head away to snap at him. you were ready to lose your mind with his absurd commentary for the past hour.

the two of you stationed yourselves on top of a tall building’s rooftop hiding from plain view & your target’s sight. your current target was a supreme commander of another country, one that had indirectly expressed his indifference toward warner, but remained loyal to reestablishment principles. warner believes it’s possible he may have a hidden agenda concerning the reestablishment, and just to be sure, he tasked you to report his activity.

your mission wasn’t anything complicated, the majority of it consisted of keeping vigilant watch and reporting anything of utter importance. the two of you used your binoculars to spy on the commander and his men from above. but you understood why warner had wanted someone to accompany you. there were almost 3 times as many men than what you were used to on your operations. but you weren’t going to admit this to the person next to you.

kenji nods, “you’re right we should skip the mindless comments and instead get to know each other. after all, i’d be real awkward if i didn’t even know fun facts about my future girlfriend,” he makes a hand gesture toward you at the end of his words.

“first off, never going to be your girlfriend. second, this isn’t a date; we’re on a stakeout collecting information.” you reiterate.

“come on,” kenji complains, “these guys have done nothing for the past 2 hours. the only criminal thing that is worth mentioning is that the commander does not pull off purple .”

you scoffed, annoyed, but you couldn’t say he was completely lying. it has been kind of a slow night. the commander stood by his post, watching the soldiers pack shipments meant for other countries & sectors, including sector 45. whenever the supreme commander would leave, either kenji or you would tail him, but it was also a dead end. he either needed to use the bathroom or go to his office to retrieve something. a part of you was starting to wonder why warner would think of this man as suspicious when he seemed as bland as the color beige. it was quite offensive to your spy expertise to be sent on such a mundane mission.

you sigh in defeat, “fine,” you turn to face kenji, “if it gets you to shut up. what do you wanna know?”

kenji places his hand over his chest, making a face of disbelief. “wow, i’ve finally done it, i’ve cracked you. it’s only a matter of time now before you actually start enjoying my presence like most of the female population.”

“i’m this close to pushing you off the ledge right now.” you exclaim, pinching your index and thumb very close as a demonstration.

“well, if we’re gonna be working together,”

he starts, ignoring your threat, “we’ve got to learn more about eachother - you know ,like the deep stuff.”

“the deep stuff?” you repeat suspiciously.

“yeah, like, what’s your favorite color?”

you turn away dramatically, “well, now you’ve just crossed the line,” you say in a light tone.

he shakes his head, “seriously, what’s your favorite color?”

“hm,” you ponder on it for a second before answering, “i like yellow.”

“yellow?” he repeats, unsure of whether to believe you. “you’re telling me, the spy who is always seen in all black’s favorite color is yellow?” he speaks as if the concept is foreign to him.

you roll your eyes for the millionth time tonight, “i wear all black because i’m working, not by personal choice. my wardrobe is actually full of colorful choices.” you admit.

kenji smirks, “so, what color are you wearing underne-“

“anyway,” your speak over him, cutting him off. “what’s your favorite color?” you ask to change focus.

“purple. and not like the purple that supreme commander looks horrendous in,” you hold back a smile at the insult, “more like the shade of purple rapunzel’s dress is.”

you tilt your head, “who’s rapunzel, is she a friend of yours?”

his eyes narrow at you, “a friend of min- she’s only one of the greatest heroines in the disney film history!” he exclaims.

“what about your knee?”

“you can’t be serious-“

that was when you heard it, voices speaking in rushed and commanding tones, getting louder and louder to the point you were able to make out the words without your listening equipment. you recognized one of them - the supreme commander.

“shoot them!” he shouted at the soldiers.

you’d been spotted. and now they were going to start firing.

“kenji get down!”

“what-“

you didn’t wait for him to understand and instinctively jumped onto kenji’s body to bring him down to the ground and avoid him from getting shot.

due to your heroic act, you were unfortunately caught by a bullet and shot in your left arm. you’ve been shot before, but it didn’t suck any less. luckily, the adrenaline coursing through you helped subdue the pain for now, but you know it’s only a matter of time before you were withering in discomfort.

“shit!” kenji cursed in reaction to the many gunshots shooting at you both. you both are currently protected by the small four feet ledge from the building you were grounded on.

“how did they even spot us?“ kenji hollers so you could him him over the flux of bullets.

“i don’t know, but there’s no time for explanations. this ledge won’t protect us for long we have to find a way out of here without being noticed.“

you had a lurking suspicion the commander was given a heads-up on the arrival of two spies. however, it wasn’t a time to investigate that.

kenji began to move from beneath you so he could somewhat sit himself up, still avoiding being hit. his movement caused you to unintentionally hiss in pain when he rubbed against your injured arm; that is when kenji took notice of your wound.

he gently grabbed it for further inspection, blood oozing from the hole of the bullet plunged into your arm. returns his gaze to you. his eyes showing worry, “you’re injured. why didn’t you say anything?” he questions you gently.

he then swiftly untucked his long sleeve shirt for machines and ripped a piece of it from the bottom. then he began to wrap it around your injury and tie it to give it pressure to lessen the bleeding.

“didn’t think there was time, you know, with hundreds of bullets coming our way.”

kenji rolls his eyes. you speak up again before he has a chance to counter, “ok, we seriously need to focus on our plan of action right now. we are way too outnumbered to strike back.”

kenjis nods and looks down in concentration of convincing a plan, and you do the same. you both could maneuver your way down towards the way you came in, but no doubt the commander's men have already begun to circle around the entire establishment. you both could sprint quick enough and jump onto the neighboring building, but it would require some climbing. and with your current left arm in bad shape, could be almost impossible for you to climb a building with one arm, no matter the skill acquired in your training.

do you have to make a decision quick, so you went with the most logical one. “kenji,” you call his attention, and he looks up from his spot, “i have a plan. but..you’re going to have to go without me.”

kenji’s face shifted from concern to confusion. “i don’t understand..”

you briefly explained the small plan you concocted, “with my with my injury , it’s clear i can’t do it. so, it’s better that you go on and-“

kenji doesn’t let you finish. “no. no. that’s not an option.” he protests.

“you have t-“

his hand is covering your mouth in a second, “it’s out of the question. don’t go saying that stupid shit again, got it?“ he sternly tells you, looking you in the eye intensely.

you’ve never had someone be so adamant about leaving you behind. if it had been anyone else with you, they would’ve up and left the moment you suggested it. a warm feeling tingled in your stomach at the thought to kenji caring about you so much.

you’re quite stunned at his assertiveness, so you nod quietly - which is highly out of character for you.

once he knows you understand, he removes his hand from your face, sighing as he does so. “i have a way for us to get out of here unnoticed and safely,” kenji admits. you pique up, intrigued by how he has a better solution, and motion for him to continue. “but you’re really going to have to trust me for this to work, ok?” he says more like a statement than a question.

“ok.” you agree.

while you may not have known kenji too long or even liked him much before tonight, he wasn’t incompetent, mostly, you had enough faith in him to believe he wouldn’t intentionally put you both in harm's way.

kenji takes a deep breath in, and you can tell to ease his nerves. it bubbles up your curiosity more. it must be something quite grand for him to be nervous to do. but then again, it had to be something quite out of the box if it weren’t a plan you could’ve conceived.

“i’m going to grab your hand, and then i’m gonna need you to do your best to not freak out.” kenji instructs carefully to you.

now you were getting anxious; what could possibly make you freak out? generally weren’t the type to scare easily, and you’re sure kenji knew this. but you truly had no other option unless you wanted to be stranded here. the sound of gunfire served over to reminder of your limited time.

you nod in confirmation and hold out your right hand in permission for him to grab. kenji takes a second before he latches his hand into yours.

for a moment, you’re confused. nothing seems to be happening. part of you thought he was going to continue with your plan, but forcibly drag you along with him. you turn your attention toward the other side to check if you were supposed to see something. but again, saw nothing of significance.

you begin to scowl, “kenji is this a joke-“

but when you turn to see kenji, no one is there. right away, you assume he left you and did everything prior as some twisted joke. you were ready to get angry, but then you felt the pressure on your palm. you were still holding his hand.

you looked around again and saw no sign of kenji besides his hand in yours. your confusion was deepening at this point, and you were beginning to think you passed out after being shot and were currently dreaming. you looked down at your interlocked hands, but you didn’t see your hands either. your eyes then moved over to your own body, but again - nothing.

you gasp, “what the hell?”

you instantly panic, not understanding what is happening. you move your body in the hope it would make it visible again, but failed. you try to free your hand from kenji’s, but he firmly keeps it gripped.

“hey, it’s alright, i’m here. calm down.” you hear kenji finally speak from next to you. you feel his thumb rub over the top of your hand in an attempt to soothe you.

you ignore him and attempt to make a list of possible nonsense that would explain the situation. “are we dead?”

“no! just invisible.” he states calmly as if the whole situation were normal. he stands up, forcing you to do the same. he begins to build up a run toward the side of the building. you can’t see either of your bodies, so you do your best to keep up without tripping.

“invisible?” you repeat, “how are we invisible?” it sounded ridiculous saying it aloud, but it was the only “reasonable” explanation for what was happening.

“uh, let’s just say i have a certain skill set.” he says in a rushed tone. you couldn’t tell if it was because he wanted to avoid answering or focus on the task at hand. maybe both.

“that doesn’t explain anything!” you say, waving your other arm around, although you both are unable to see it.

now having reached the side of the building you entered from, you see the ladder that led you both up. kenji wastes no time on stepping down first. you can’t see his movement but can feel yourself being tugged and the sound of his boots hitting the metal.

you follow, continuing to hold his hand as he leads you both down the ladder of the building. “as you mentioned over and over before, there’s no time for explanations. you just focus on getting down this ladder.”

you did as he said (for once) and continued stepping down, with one hand on the rail, in silence. for once in your life, you were speechless.

you both successfully evaded the commander and his soldiers. the invisibility had proven to be true because you walked past them like it was nothing, as they still shot to where they assumed the two of you were still positioned.

there were no words exchanged on the way back to the plane. kenji took the initiative to inform the pilot of your coordinates, so the two of you could be picked up. you felt foolish for being so unprofessional, but you finally evading the danger, your state of shock was brought back.

when the plane finally landed down, kenji had finally returned both of your visible states and then released your hand. you could feel the sweat on it from holding on so long, but you were still reeling in from events to notice or care.

both of you moved to board the plane.

if you hadn’t faced some blood loss and felt incredible fatigue, you would’ve hounded kenji for answers on your way back to sector 47. but as soon as you sat down on a seat, you were out like a light.

the next time you open your eyes, all you could see was white. the ceiling lights temporarily blinded you, making it hard to see your surroundings at first.

you groaned from disorientation and the blinding light. you turn to the sense of touch and understand you are lying on a bed. your vision settled, and you were able to vaguely recognize your surrounding. the long windows, medical supplies, other white-sheeted beds neighboring, faint smell of disinfectant — you were in the medical wing in sector 45.

you knew it was the infirmary from your sector because of the large indentation on the wall from a mishap of yours a few years prior, one of the few times you actually went to a trained nurse instead of mending to yourself. long story short, the nurses really should have de-weaponized you before attempting to wake you up after you’d passed out.

now knowing you were in a dangerous environment, you slowly began to sit up. you used one hand to stable yourself since the other was put into a cast. the aching you were trying to put off the whole mission came in full force.

you looked down at your attire; your first layers of clothes covered in grime and blood were removed. now you were only left in your black shorts and tank top.

not even a moment later, you hear the sounding of the your door opening.

“well finally you’re awake!” a voice says, “thought i’d need to wake you up with true love’s kiss.”

kenji walks up to your bedside, his sly smile never faltering until he takes a glance at your injured arm.

he peers down at your face. he takes a hand and moves a strand of hair behind your ear. your stomach warms at the feeling of his faint touch on the side of your face.

“i thought i’d lost you for a second there, sleeping beauty.” kenji says in a gentle tone.

another reference of his you didn’t understand, but you chose to focus on his other words instead.

you tilt your sore neck, which you regret, in confusion, “what do you mean?”

“you were asleep the whole flight, and when we landed, i tried to wake you, but you wouldn’t stir. i knew something was wrong. my assumption was proven correct because when i examined your arm, your blood loss was almost severe. after that, i just rushed to get here.” kenji explains, his tone a bit somber. you fight the urge to hold his hold and comfort him, then chide yourself for thinking so something so intimate involving kenji.

guess you probably should’ve checked your arm when you boarded the plane. somehow, your bloody arm had gone from the first to the last thing on your mind during the operation.

“and now your facing my dashingly handsome face.” he cockily adds in.

there it is. you don’t even snarkily counter back. for once, you just smile in response. you give in to your urges and grab onto his hand, giving it a soft squeeze, “thank you kenji. seriously, i know we started on the wrong foot, but i’m very grateful to you.” you say sincerely.

kenji squeezes your hand in return, “to be fair, you’re the one who’s made your distaste toward me very clear while all i did was confess my undying love to you.” he corrects with a pout. he places a hand over his heart in fake pain.

your mouth gapes, “what? you’re the one who not only showed up late, but acted like a total douche the first time we met.”

kenji laughs at this sheepishly, “yeah, about that..” he goes to rubs his hand on the side of his neck.

“what?” you question. “don’t leave me hanging.”

kenji laughs, “that first meeting, i wasn’t actually late.” he starts.

you shake your head, “yes you were. i waited there for almost half an hour.”

“i was there fifteen minutes early, waiting by the door. but then i saw you walk past me, not even sparing a glance, and go into the training room.” kenji confesses.

“then why were you so late?” you interrupt impatiently. you don’t remember seeing him there at all, and if he had been there, why didn’t he just go in straight after you instead of wasting your time.

“i’m getting there, angel.” kenji taps his index finger on the tip of your nose. you swat his hand and wait for him to go on.

“after you went in, i was stunned. truly. you were the most gorgeous being i’d ever seen, and you walked around like you didn’t even know it.”

you smack his arm at his dramatic flattery, “shut up, quit playing around and get to the point.”

“am i one to lie?” he asks rhetorically.

you give him a look. “alright, maybe, but it doesn’t make what i said any less true. you are beautiful, and anyone who hasn’t told you that is an idiot.”

you scoff, turning your head away from kenji. you rather him not see the rising redness on your cheeks.

luckily kenji continues without comment, “anyway, after i got a hold of myself, i thought, ‘how was a guy supposed to walk in and face this goddess of a person supposed to be his trainer.’ he can’t, so he does the classic guy move, ‘act indifferent to make yourself seem cooler in front of a girl.”

“so you acted like an asshole….on purpose….because you wanted to be cool in front of me?” you repeat slowly, making sure you understood his stupid plan.

“ok, i get it; it's not my best moment. trust me when i say i realized my mistake as soon as you started kicking my ass like it was nothing. but it actually made me like you more and even turned me on a bit-“

“ok, i think i got it!” you weren’t one to be so easily flushed, but it was hard not to when he was so blunt about affection toward you. even if it was vulgar.

“after that horrible first meeting, i had to get you to like me.” kenji explains, “so i did my best to use my attractiveness and charming persona to seduce you. but, damn, you wouldn’t even bat an eye at my attempts. that only made me wanna do it more.”

you cross your arms over your chest, “so what, you like me because i’m pretty and a challenge for you?” you ask with an aloof tone.

“maybe at the start, but now, everything about you has me captivated. your strength and resilience. the way people undermine you, but you don’t let it stop you from proving them wrong. how to most, you’re uptight and cold, but you actually care more than you’d want to admit. i admire that you want to be the best, but not for warner, for yourself.” your eyes begin to soften at kenji as he describes you so passionately. you didn’t realize observant of you he was.

kenji continues, “hell, even your stubbornness. though, you break my heart a little every time you reject one of my very well thought out pick up lin-“

you don’t wait to hear anymore. abruptly, you sit up and yank him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him down to your eye level. you’re moving automatically as if in a trance, and your sturdy hand reaches the right side of his face. “shut up.” you say in a rushed whisper.

then you kiss him. you actually, willingly, lean in and collide your lips with kenji kishimoto. you like it very much too. and there is no better feeling than the way his lips on yours make your heart race and body buzz with warmth and exhilaration.

everything happened so quick, kenji was frozen in his spot for a good moment - his eyes so wide they could’ve popped out. then, he smoothly regained composure. his face relaxed, now having a giddy grin into the kiss, and slid a hand to the back of your neck, under your hair, to hold you closer.

even though the kiss was a heat-of-the-moment decision, the kiss itself wasn’t heated nor rushed. no, it was almost the exact opposite. your lips were tenderly pressed together, heads titled opposite directions so you fit together in sync.

you move your touch to his covered chest, gripping his plain fitted shirt for dear life, a way to remind yourself that this was all very real.

you’re the first to pull away; part of you already longing for his touch as you did. you felt dizzy, not in a loss of blood way, but in a weightless feeling way. you couldn’t stop the silly smile etched on your face, nor the flushed look that was likely written all over your face. you couldn’t even find yourself caring about it.

kenji’s appearance isn’t much different from yours, but his smile is crooked and screams more of satisfaction and a bit of cockiness. “told you i’d eventually win you over.”

you chuckle and lightly punch kenji’s bicep, shaking your head, “tell anyone, and i’ll deny it.” you threaten in jest.

you tap your lips with your index finger and look up in mock contemplation, “hm. maybe if you explain how you turned us invisible back there i’ll think about a date.” you remind him. you were still owed a great explanation.

kenji grins, “is that all it takes? well, then, i’ve got a hell of a story for you.”

special thank you to @butterflyreads for being so patient and liking my works, hope you enjoy this one <3

#kenji kishimoto #kenji kishimoto x reader #kenji kishimoto x female reader #kenji kishimoto imagine #shatter me #shatter me fanfic #aaron warner #juliette ferrars #x female reader #reader imagine #reader insert

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fudanshipoe · 4 months

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bsd character design analysis ★

– part 1: borrowed clothing and its symbolism

word count: 1.3k

includes: dazai, beast dazai, akutagawa, ranpo, yosano

1.) Dazai's Coat (PM vs ADA)

Following the Port Mafia tradition of giving a new subordinate a superior's item as a sign of loyalty, Mori gives Dazai his jacket upon his entrance into the mafia. Dazai never wears this coat correctly, instead draping it around his shoulders.

On the other hand, the coat he wears in the ADA is not only worn in the correct fashion, but it also closely resembles Odazaku's coat.

The way Dazai wears his coat symbolizes where his loyalties lie. He was never loyal to the Port Mafia, or Mori himself. Hedoes takes on Mori's influence, specifically in his acts of getting something done no matter the means. Dazai does not mind playing dirty, and this follows Mori's own ideas of finding the most optimal solution. While I don't believe Mori is entirely the reason Dazai follows this path of action, it is clear that he did have some influence on Dazai with his teachings.

Dazai is loyal to the Armed Detective Agency, however, and goes to extreme measures for his comrades, including sacrificing himself in various ways. (Meursalt, dead apple, etc).

Going back to how his coat resembles Oda's, it gives light into Oda's influence on Dazai, that being him planting a moral seed in Dazai. His final request is for Dazai to strive to be a good person and not dwell along the dark side of humanity any longer. Oda is arguably one of the most important relationships Dazai has over the course of the series. He is the one who sets Dazai on a better path, and Dazai takes his words to heart. Otherwise, he would not have joined the Armed Detective Agency and found people he is loyal to.

2.) Beast Dazai

Beast Dazai noticeably has the same scarf Mori does. This could be a signifier of position as the Port Mafia boss, but I believe it represents tactics that Beast Dazai learned from Mori. I am specifically talking about the control they both excise on others. In order for Beastzai's plan to work, he had to gain an almost absolute hold over the world immediately surrounding Oda. This is why it is mostly him, SSKK, and Oda whose lives are affected by his actions. Most everyone else's lives remain similar to the original BSD verse. The members of each organization are the same, is what I mean.

The iron grip that beast Dazai has over the Beast universe in order to reach his goal resembles the tactics Mori uses as the Port Mafia boss. Absolute control.

Beast Dazai's coat is another important factor. Unlike PM Dazai in the main BSD universe, beast Dazai wears his coat correctly and not around his shoulders. Beast Dazai is dedicated to his goal of securing a world where Oda can stay alive and freely write his novels. His loyalty is not to the Port Mafia, but that goal.

3.) Akutagawa's Coat

This is another item that follows the Port Mafia tradition and Dazai gives him his own coat on the night that he picks up Akutagawa from the slums.

Akutagawa's coat is a representation of his trauma and dependence on Dazai's recognition to live. His goal is to receive the recognition he never got from Dazai in the past, and this hinders his own development. While Akutagawa does not care about Dazai as a person, the effect Dazai's training had on him was creating a dependence on this approval.

His coat is his most important item for the greater majority of the series. He does not use his ability without it, and keeps it on at all times, which is another topic to discuss upon his coat/ability and protecting himself. In fact, he believes for a while that he can't use his ability without his coat, either, or that he is defenseless without it.

This changes during the Decay of the Angel's arc, specifically in the SSKK vs Fukuchi fight. In a pivotal moment, Akuatagwa discards his coat in order to aid Atsushi in delivering a powerful blow to Fukuchi. He uses Rashomon without his coat for the first time in this scene, too, which shows his growth as a character, and no longer relying so heavily on having to prove himself to Dazai for a reason to live. It is an example of him making his own choices and not being under the influence of Dazai's teachings onto him that he needed to prove himself useful, or that he is even useless in the first place.

4.) Ranpo's Glasses

Fukuzawa gives Ranpo an ordinary pair of glasses in the Untold Origins novel as a way to "control" his ability. Now, it is well established that these are a cheap pair, and that they are useless since Ranpo is not actually an ability user, however, the importance of it lies in Fukuzawa's influence on Ranpo, and the facade Ranpo subscribes to.

Fukuzawa is a figure that represents an integral point in Ranpo's life. Before the events of Untold Origins, Ranpo had no one in his life as a result of his parent's death. Fukuzawa is the first figure to step up for Ranpo and try to guide him, he is the sole reason Ranpo realizes he is not isolated in this world. This is important because Ranpo needs that at 14 years old. Fukuzawa is the cause if Ranpo's worldview changes, otherwise he would have continued to stray on his own uncertain path.

This also marks the beginning of Ranpo's attachment to being viewed as an ability user. He has an innate need to prove himself above the extraordinary because he cares about protecting the ones he values, namely the Agency. His resolve to be strong for his friends and family is strong, and this relates to the fact that he is so driven on remaining this image of an astounding man. He can't afford to lose his place in this light precisely because he is such an important piece of the Agency. The Agency was created because of Ranpo, after all, as a place for him to utilize his intellectual gift and to belong with Fukuzawa to.

His glasses tie back as a symbol of this in the Ranpo and Poe chapter (32). He loses his glasses while in Poe's ability space, and has a meltdown over the fact that he can't use his ability without them. It has also been established that Ranpo is self aware of his non-ability reality, yet he still clings to it because he needs to live up to that self standard, and his glasses are the object of this.

(I had images for this and yosano but Tumblr has a 10 image limit ://)

5.) Yosano and Her Butterfly Pin

There is a strong theme between life & death, and rebirth & transformation within Yosano's character.

Yosano gets her hair pin from Tachihara's older brother, who was a soldier in the "immortal army" unit under Mori's command. The way she acquires this hair pin is important because he represent a huge aspect of her trauma during this time, as the repeated abuse of her ability on him ended with his suicide. This time also cements her connection with life and death through her ability. She has the ability to control life and death itself, after all. Life is important to Yosano, this is established from her herself during her fight with Kaji through her comments on death is the lack of life, and the way she strives to save lives with her ability.

Butterflies serve as a symbol of metamorphosis, whether physical or emotional, and Yosano follows this theme well. She changes drastically as a person, as she does not let her past nor her ability connect her to that level of inhumanity she is pushed into by others' views. Golden butterflies specifically represent transformation, hope, or something along the lines of past souls as well, which fits with Yosano well.

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inexplicifics · 2 months

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Hi im a fashion designer/fabric artist (in training) and I have Many Ideas about witcher fashion via monsters!

Some background — as witcher lands become bigger, and trade becomes bigger, and witchers travel in packs — well monster parts become easier to carry, right? It starts with the ichor black dyeing — the laundresses start to wear the clothes and they occasionally travel, and they have extra fabrics so it sells on occasion too, but because 1) rarity and 2) Witcher, it becomes a status thing to own ichor black clothing and a way to try and be in favor of the witchers (“see? We wear your clothing we Totally Support You” whether thats true or not is up to the court the clothing is in). And then the dyeing laundresses start to do different fabrics too (like silk), to sell for even more money. This gives them the thought to ask for monster skin to be turned to leather. Or griffin feathers/skin. Or just their Outsides in general to see what can be sold, dyed, or both.

And Triss is a bit of a perfectionist, and she’s a researcher, so sometimes the boys will bring her back parts she wants to make sure they cant be used or cant be used in a better way — and well beetle wings and feathers are good in fashion so I wouldnt be surprised if Milena saw the monster leather, feathers, etc, and saw Triss discarding various bones and claws and something clicked.

So my list of fashion choices in Kaer Morhen that eventually travels out comes down to two big items seen in almost every culture on earth:

• dyed cloth (ichor black in this case)

• and (monster) remains such as hide for leathers, furs, feathers, scales, and bones for adornments or accessories

Any monster you look at can be categorized in this, for the most part. Some monsters have special items, like vampire fangs, and I could see warg feet being like rabbits feet, a sign of good fortune or ward against evil.

Cultures like what they cant have and is seen as rare, so Ciri walking into court on Progress having a diadem or tiara made of vampire teeth, her ichor black dress studded with silver and bone, embroidered with wyvern scales, griffin feathers in her hair and the ends of her dress, and warg fur around her collar and ends of her sleeves (or any combination thereof) — she’d be a picture of Rich and Powerful.

And with how sharp Milena is (pun intended) i could see her very quickly realizing how Witcher court would have a very specific style (the same way people say something is very French or “that outfit is very Redanian Noble”) because thats the power of world building!!! Different places have different resources and that reflects in fashion!!

Thank you for listening to me ramble I love fashion, historical fashion, and fantasy fashion so this really tickled me!

This is marvelous; it adds so much depth and knowledge to the world-building! Thank you!

#questions answered #accidental warlord au #witcher fashion

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tb3ih · 11 months

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KISSES LIKE SATIN, childe/reader.

SYNOPSIS... pearls unlaced and strewn about the floor, fabrics newly discarded on the furniture, oh how you love the burn when TARTAGLIA sinks his inscisors into your skin, breaking it open and letting constellations spill in (He is the Sun, but you were born of the Moon).

⋆ warnings, model!tartaglia & fashion designer!reader, enemies to lovers, hardcore workplace & BANDAGING WOUNDS tension, fluff and a bit a LOT of spice, influenced heavily by the Goddess Herself, lana del rey (this is entirely self-indulgent), also mentions of previous relationship trauma, but it's non-specific!

⋆ notes, exploration of romance in-between luxury brands and lavish living, also coping with the fact that i've been enamored by yet ANOTHER boy who might just be the death of me. accompanied by bad for business by sabrina carpenter.

⋆ tags! @yakshahs @xngelholix @rinoomi @rainsoughtflowers @14shroud

"YOU'RE absolutely ridiculous!" there is no budge in your expression, pure frustration and borderline hostility apparent in your eyes as you examine the ginger before you. grin just teasing lazy and eyebrows raised in non-chalance, TARTAGLIA was lucky he was the face of this brand, otherwise you're absolutely sure you would've given him a nasty right hook about now.

the time on your watch read 10:34 am, approximately and entire hour and twenty-four minutes past the scheduled time for the photoshoot. hair roussed and button up mussed, the model had sauntered into the backstage room looking like he'd just wandered out of another girl's bed and remembered he had some kind of commitment today.

it was the annual teyvat fashion convention. only one of the biggest in all of the nations.

which, again, was just another agenda item.

"awh, miss l/n, don't be so harsh, i overslept, honest!" you ignore the skip of your heart when the corner of his lips curls into a boysih grin, eyes only narrowing as his eyes seem to peek into your soul.

damn him.

"illya!" a taller blonde appears next to him, black clipboard tucked into her arm, her attention shifting to show disdain at the sight of your brand's top model before settling back to you. "when was mr. tartaglia supposed to arrive?"

she doesn't miss a beat. "8:45 am, miss y/n."

"and when was he to take to the runway?" your eyes narrow at the ginger who's smile doesn't waver.

"9:00 am, sharp, miss y/n," she replies curtly, checking her clipboard.

"ah," you hum, chuckling humorlessly. "how many pieces do we have left?"

"twenty-seven designs in queue, miss y/n."

"how many are his? fifteen?" you turn, stopping a model to adjust the styling of his scarf before dismissing him. "get me an expresso, make it triple, illya. and please, direct mr. tartaglia out of my sight and to his dressing room. he better be on that runway in four minutes or i swear to the archons i will level this entire show."

it's tartaglia who speaks this time, offering a slight bend at the waist to tip you his imaginary hat, "as the princess commands."

you turn curtly to leave before he can see the pink that lightly dusts your complexion at the nickname.

"LOSE the chain." your eyes examine the piece with extra scrutiny, narrowing at the culprit which seems to be disassembling the entire outfit. scowl at how well tartaglia wears it, the long slacks making him appear more intimidating. the low cut v-neck stops just above his abdomen, teasing you with a peek of what you suppose to be his sculpted chest...

tartaglia clears his throat, the shade of blue in his eyes shifting when they catch yours, the curl of his lips telling you he didn't miss a beat of you admiring him. but you reveal nothing, lifting your chin before circling him once. "pearls and black iron chain."

someone hands you both and you approach him, bringing both up to his collar to compare it in the light. you hate to admit that he's one of your most valuable models, the combination of his hair and eyes and his demeanor as a model being the reason you sell out at just hours after ever show.

those damn eyes.

you hold the black chain out drop it into an assistant dresser's hands, focusing on latching the pearls around his neck. one final once-over and you're now positive on the look. "he's good, now get him in line to walk, i want him behind diluc."

you move to adjust his belt, styling it to hang loosely where his shirt tuck breaks. "you know, if you wanted to look at me, you should've just asked." his voice is low enough that it catches no one else's attention.

you scoff, "please, i'm sure you've got supermodels lined up down the block just to get a glimpse of you on the catwalk." when you look up, he's looking down at you, head turned to watch you fix his belt and the back of slacks. your fingers are featherlight so as not to make more contact than necessary. "i have enough model photos and issues to last me a lifetime, but i appreciate the kind offer."

you ignore the small curve of his mouth as he smiles at you amusedly and you dismiss the fluttering feeling in your stomach. "well, i'm not sure any these apparent supermodels bites back as cruelly as you," he replies lowly.

you cough at the comment, eyes narrowing up at his and taking a curt step back from him. you can still smell his cologne from where you stand and you wave a hand at a fashion assistant to signal you're done looking him over. "just do your job."

"sweetheart, i wouldn't dream of anything else." he's caught up to the other models before you can bite back a reply. and you shake an odd feeling from your head.

the caffine's probably the reason your heart's pounding.

YOU'RE pinning a ruby onto a shirt collar when you hear the knock on your hotel door room. the living room of the suite is where you've set up all your upcoming designs, sketches and fabrics strewn about in a collective fashion disaster as you try to piece together next season's collection.

sighing, you set the container with the rest of the precious gems down on a nearby coffee table before dusting the silk of your pajamas lightly and making your way to the door.

you scowl, opening the door to reveal a tall, wavering, ginger, blue eyes softening just a bit when they meet yours. "hi uhm, is now a bad time?"

you're about to say something spiteful when you notice the wrinkles in his collar don't look like they'd been made out of good intent. the knuckles of his hand are red and there's red smeared in splotches on his shirt. you look around the hallway behind him, ushering him in quickly so as not to let anyone see the disheaveled model.

"now before you say anything—"

"ajax, it is 1:43 in the morning, just what the archons are you doing outside of my suite?!" your voice is sharp in tone, but not loud enough to be heard from another room. something in his eyes catches you off-guard and his lips pull into a full smile, boyish and wide. "now is not—what? is something funny?"

his voice comes out a little breathless, as if he'd seen a shooting star. "no you... you said my name..."

oh.

"don't i always?" your voice is a little quieter and the room doesn't seem as big anymore.

"well... it's just..." he flexes his hand and you watch him wince, if only for a second and you remember why he's here.

"i'll meet you in the bathroom," you say, offering no question before moving to the bedroom to look for the healing kit. when you walk back in to the bathroom, he's already taken the liberty of attempting to wash out the blood stains in his shirt.

"you won't get the stains out with water, it has to be professionally cleaned," you comment, watching his broad shoulders turn to face you where you stand in the door way. "zhongli's going to throw a fit when he hears you've ruined something imported from liyue."

tartaglia laughs a little softly to himself, the sound causing your heart to pick up it's pace just a little. "ah well, i suppose i've got a habit for ruining things, huh?"

when you meet his eyes, they hold none of the confident charm you're used to, nothing teasing about the way his lips seem to curl in apology deeper than just the ruined button-up.

you try to wave off the feeling, motioning for him to forget the shirt and relax against the marble countertop. "we need better shirts anyway, it's from two collections ago."

holding out your hand, he rests his hand in yours, allowing you to examine the wounds on his knuckles. "you'd feel better if you saw the other guy," he says quietly. when you look up at him, his eyes are on you.

you clear your throat, "well, i don't feel good at all, you have a jewelry showcase tomorrow and i can't have you looking like this." you take a towel and wet it with warm water, carefully dabbing at his knuckles. "what happened?"

tartaglia swallows, voice quiet when he replies. "i saw kaeya at the bar."

your movements pause, eyes blinking quickly to clear the sudden rush of memories. "ah."

it's quiet other than the sound of a clock ticking quietly in the other room as you continue to clean away his hands.

"i know what he did to you." he sucks in a sharp breath, "and i, truly, am sorry. i wish there was something..." something in those azure hues shifts and you know he truly means what he's saying. there's a faint whiff of dandelion wine on his breath and you have to restrain yourself from saying anything that you'll regret.

your laugh is a little too dry, too soft. "well, it's in the past now, right?" you set down the dirty cloth and pick up the healing ointment. "there's nothing to get so angry about, now is there?"

he's quiet and you know he's focused on you handling his knuckles. you reach for the bandages, but he's already got them in his other hand to give them to you. your "thank you" is barely above a whisper.

"you're so gentle," he starts, making you pause to look up at him. there is a small upturn of his lips and you have to suck in sharply to remember to breathe. the look is so genuine, so raw, and you're not sure what to do with the erruption of butterflies in your stomach. his skin is radiating heat and you need to get away before you get burned.

you push away from him, steadying yourself against nothing. "i can't do this, not with you, not right now."

he's bad for business. but he's close you could just reach out—

his complexion is marred with confusion, eyes falling on the distance now between the two of you. "y/n..."

"why?" you choke out the word, years of memories bubbling up in the back of your throat. fashion deisgn school, late nights spent out in the cities, even the ocean breeze between tangled sheets. "what do you want?"

"it's not... i'm not..." the ginger is searching your eyes, struggling to piece together some reply to your reaction. "i'm sorry—"

"stop saying that," you plead, pain building in the corners of your eyes. "you don't even know what you're apologizing for."

he lets out a frustrated breath of air, running is unscathed hand through his hair. "but that's exactly the thing, i do. i know exactly what i'm apologizing for." his expression is determined, gaze set on you in the middle of the bathroom now. "i never should have left you like that."

you blink hard and fast, memories threatening to spill down your cheeks in hot, salty trails. you remmeber that cold, posessive hand on your waist, the spiked dandelion wine, those azure locks while you were taken to places you'd only read about in the tabloids. "you didn't do anything, ajax, please—"

"that's exactly my point!" something in his voice is breaking, but so is something in your chest. "archons, y/n, i've known you since we were kids, i was there, when you first moved to the neighborhood, when we graduated secondary school, even the first day day you came to advanced design class, i. was. there."

his chest heaves a little as he tries to catch his breath. "i watched that asshole tear you apart and didn't move an inch to try and piece you back together." tartaglia pushes lightly off the counter, only inching just a bit cloaser to you so as not to startle you.

you only have a few feet before you hit the other wall.

"every day for the past near decade of my career, the only thing you have done is stress me out and test my pateince," you reply, this time with something hot bubbling in the back of your throat. nothing is making sense anymore. "why? why do you insist on making my life so hard?"

all the backstage mischief, the tardy appearances to fanshion shows, even the silly misdemeanors at afterparties. there was no end to how much this boy provoked in you, good and bad.

"y/n..." he's closer now, the look in his bright blue eyes never letting you look away from his. you're backing up subconsciously, praying the room might magically expand at your approach. "i'm still that dumb, immature, ten-year-old boy who fell in love with you on the playground. you couldn't even acknowledge me in the room after what kaeya had done to you because we were friends. i thought maybe..."

his voice trails off and you watch his adam's apple bob as he swallows, the next words seeming to crash into you as deeply as his gaze.

"even if it was with contempt, at least you were looking at me."

the reminder of the wall brings you to look up at him. he's closed in on you and you're not sure you even want to escape. you were supposed to hate him.

"why are you telling me this?" you feel as if you're heart's about to burst and he's so dangerously close.

his hands are so gentle when they hold your face, directing your eyes to meet his. "because if i don't tell you now, i'm not sure i ever will." his thumb strokes gently at your cheek. "after today, i thought you might fire me for my behavior so figured now's a better time than ever."

his smile is so full when he speaks, that same boyish charm, only in a different light. "i am so wholy, and genuinely in love with you, y/n."

you're definitely sure he can hear your heart pounding in your chest. the tears you'd been trying so hard to hold have begun to spill down your cheeks, dusting your complexion with a light tint of rose as his confession sinks in. his hands wipe them away gently, the warmth radiating off of him comforting and coaxing you as you cry.

"so please, sweeheart," he whispers, "don't push me away anymore."

the breath of a distance between you two is a question, one that your head and heart seem to both agree on answering. you breathe out an "okay," and it's a split second before planets seem to collide.

his lips are softer than velvet on yours, gentle and patient as he lets the worries weighing your heart spill from your closed eyes. tartaglia does not wipe them from your cheeks this time, his hands having moved to secure a hold around your waist. your hands find his hair, slipping through the soft locks like cashmere.

your name escapes his lips in a low groan when you tug a little and you find yourself smiling a little against him. he is so terribly close to you that you can feel his warmth blooming between your ribs, spreading throughout your limbs and soothing aches you never knew you had.

such a sweet boy to heal something he didn't break.

#xx tb3ih #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact tartaglia #genshin tartaglia #genshin impact childe #genshin childe #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #genshin smut #enemies to lovers #high fashion #mens fashion #childe fluff #childe smut #tartaglia fluff #tartaglia smut

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