#also i usually stray away from making skin color the coat color but the skin color is a pretty important part of these guy's recognizabilit | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

Text

bullseye | got it bad, m | jjk, kth

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Kim Taehyung really regrets setting up his best friend with Jeon Jungkook, mostly because instead of dealing with one insufferable asshole, he now has to deal with two. He just wants you to come to his art exhibit and support him, and you show up looking like a pimp with Jungkook looking like your escort, sigh.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; you’re a cocky asshole and so is Jungkook; schemes, please save Taehyung; graphic descriptions of various sex acts, smut (fem reader, making out / dry humping / fingering in a public bathroom, threesome smut, mild restraint, nipple play, m-receiving oral, ass / pussy spanking, double penetration / spit-roast, facial, mild dom/sub themes, so much kissing); non-idol!BTS; fuckboy!Jungkook x bisexual, fuckgirl!reader; ft artist, best friend!Taehyung

yup, it’s Butter purple-haired ponytail JK and orange suit Taehyung

"You have got to be kidding me!"

"Oh, hey, Tae. How's it going?"

"Hey, hyung."

The voices, one irritated, one pleased, one mischievous, all three looking like the epitome of trouble and the eventual subjects of someone's wet dream.

Kim Taehyung marched over to you, purely indignant, his previous honey-brown hair now dyed to the color of black coffee, the long curls pushed back to reveal his forehead. One stray lock brushed against his dark, sculpted brows that were currently furrowed in annoyance. He stopped in front of you and your boyfriend, hands on his hips. He looked handsome as hell in a tailored orange creamsicle suit and gold earrings, white dress shirt neatly pressed.

"Why are you dressed like a pimp?" Taehyung hissed, jabbing your left breast through your dress. "Why are you dressed like his pimp?!" he added, pointing at Jungkook's smirking face.

You blinked innocently at Taehyung, lifting your oversized black fur coat sleeve to place a delicate hand on your chest, completely unbothered by his harsh reaction to your appearance. Your nails were a gradient from black to white, ever-so-slightly pointed, but not too long to be inconvenient.

Just enough to show you meant business.

Oh, and also you were wearing mock-neck, halter-style minidress that faded from black to white, molded to your every curve. It perfectly matched Jungkook's gradient black-to-white suit. Every step was accented with a sharp click, you in sleek black high-heels and him in glossy black oxfords, dangerous from head-to-toe.

Yes, Jungkook and you were that couple.

"Is that a t-shirt?" Taehyung snapped, switching to prodding Jungkook’s pecs, who grinned in response. You shrugged, the shoulders of your fur coat sliding down so that it now rested on your elbows, exposing your shoulders.

"He thought about not coming with one, but I advised him the other visitors would be too distracted by his sexiness to view your art," you explained, bowing as if you had done a great service.

"And I told her they would be to distracted with her amazing legs, but it's better not to cover them because I like looking," Jungkook chuckled, placing an arm around your waist and pulling you to him possessively.

Taehyung facepalmed.

"I regret paying matchmaker to the two biggest egos I know," he mumbled through his fingers, glaring at the two of you.

"Hey, we kept it low profile. Neutrals."

Taehyung pointed to your boyfriend's hair, pulled back into a sleek ponytail. "Hello? His hair is fucking purple."

You waved his comment away dismissively. "Well, besides that."

"You're a class-A asshole."

"Still makes me high class," you replied with a wink.

"This is really nice, hyung," Jungkook cut in between your bickering. "There’s quite a lot of people here already. I didn't know you were so talented and popular. As expected from my girl's best friend, eh?"

Taehyung winced, rubbing the back of his neck, ears turning red. "Eh... it's not a big deal..." he muttered, but you could tell he was enjoying the praise.

"Of course, it is, Tae," you chuckled, pulling out of Jungkook's grasp to hug him, squeezing him between your fur-covered arms. "You've worked so hard to be able to display your paintings at such a nice venue. I'm proud of you."

Taehyung laughed shyly, hugging you back. "Ahaha... thanks, as usual." He planted a light kiss on the top of your head. "I'm happy you guys came."

You grinned. "Indeed. You needed visitors to match the space," you drawled, sweeping your arms in a grandiose gesture to the glass cases of Taehyung's paintings, crisp white walls, and black marble flooring.

Taehyung rolled his eyes, smiling despite being over your antics. "Not sure I need a high-end escort and his pimp sauntering around..."

"When are your parents arriving? I want to introduce them to Jungkook," you interrupted, tugging on Jungkook's arm and making his cheeks flush pink.

"Like this?! Are you serious, my parents are going to have a heart attack once they realize there's a male version of you!"

"Aw, come on, your dad loves seeing me!"

"That's because you both are always up to no good... fucking always pulling pranks on me... I'm actually glad they're stuck in traffic now..."

You slid your thumb into his mouth, smirking as you heard his muffled whine. He was trying to stay quiet, staring down at you with half-lidded eyes, whimpering as you rubbed his tongue with the pad of your finger. One of your legs was hooked around his waist and he was holding it up with one hand. His other between your legs, fingers hooking underneath your panties.

“Fuck, I love looking at you, Jungkook,” you whispered, leaning forward, shuddering at the feeling of his saliva pooling around your thumb, your own tongue snaking out and tracing the air right between his open lips.

Jungkook moaned softly and shoved two fingers inside your tight, wet pussy.

You pulled your thumb out and crashed your lips to his, letting your satisfied exhale into his throat, your name trapped between his lungs and your hungry mouth, kissing him deeply as he plunged his fingers in and out, pressing your body into the wall of the bathroom stall. Shivers up and down your spine, back arching to feel even more of his chest against yours, frustrated at the clothing between you and him, but still hot and exciting, your hands circling his head and playing with his ponytail, rolling your hips into his rough thrusts.

You tried to break free and moan, but Jungkook captured you with his lips, forcing your noises into his mouth to silence them, rubbing his erection against your hip and thigh, the sound between your legs getting louder because you were getting wetter, closer, your eyes cracking open and seeing his half-open too, staring at you with lust and love, determined to push you over the edge, even in the men’s bathroom where Kim Taehyung’s art exhibit was being held.

Hey, you both waited until you had a nice, long conversation with Taehyung’s parents where his mom drilled Jungkook with questions about what he did and what kind of person he was. His dad, in contrast, seemed to approve of Jungkook and gave him a hearty slap on the arm, telling him trouble and trouble often went well together. Then you and Taehyung’s dad had a praise fest about his son, which made Taehyung turn beet-red in embarrassment. Both of you meant it all, of course.

But, also, both of you enjoyed embarrassing Taehyung in public. It was fun.

Yeah, dads loved you.

You couldn’t imagine why that was.

All that aside, after Taehyung's parents bid their son goodbye, Jungkook dragged you into the men's bathroom and began to make out with your face.

He contained himself for a few hours. It was a valiant effort, living off only groping your ass a couple times, but a man can only take so much when you’re looking like a five-course meal and he’s aware that you’re willing to let him eat, you know?

No? Oh, well.

Maybe that’s just your problem.

Also, yes, maybe you discreetly teased him a couple times by rubbing your ass on his crotch and pressing your tits against his back. Maybe.

You lowered one of your hands, cupping your fingers around his length, sighing in his mouth, feeling how perfectly rock-hard he was, knowing you couldn’t have it and he couldn’t give it to you, not yet, but soon, his deep snarl at your touch, fuck, kisses intensifying, shoving his fingers into you all the way to the knuckle, the wet squish audible and obscene, the adrenaline of danger and satisfaction creeping you closer and closer to your high. His thumb came up and grazed your clit, making you close your eyes and rock your hips into his touch, moaning his name into his own mouth, his force of his fingers pushing his thumb against your throbbing clit hard and fast, the scent of black coffee and lush dragon fruit on his skin and yours, mixing with the sweetness of your orgasm as you wailed in glorious triumph, clutching his head with your hand and his waist with your leg, your other one shaking with strain as each pulse shook you, squeezing his clothed length in your hand, wanting it and pulling back to tell him just that in hot whispers, his soft moan against your mouth, whispering back, your name and his desire, his dark brown eyes nearly black with lust.

“Shit, you know how bad I want to fuck you, right now,” Jungkook panted.

“Please don’t.”

Huh?

You raised an eyebrow at the annoyed baritone voice. “Taehyung?”

“Do you know how long I’ve been standing here, knocking on this bathroom stall, you absolute horndogs?”

You heard him gritting his teeth, his voice nearly a deep growl. You did what any natural person would do.

Reached over and unlocked the door, letting it swing open to reveal your and Jungkook’s grinning faces.

His fingers remained very firmly inside your pussy, barely covered by the hem of your dress. You swept your arm back so your fur coat was out of the way. Always considerate. Taehyung stood at the opening of the door, hands on his hips, orange blazer flaring out with his posture, immediately throwing up his hands and jerking his head away once he realized that, yes, of course, you two would not bother covering up anything.

“Fucking – shit, get your hands off her, man, go home to do that–”

Jungkook began to slide his fingers out, scissoring them with a wet squish and you mewled, slightly exaggerated and performative.

“Oh my God, never mind, stop, leave them in there,” Taehyung snarled, realizing he was facing the mirror and therefore could still see both yours and Jungkook’s smug smirks. He abruptly turned ninety degrees, now facing the wall, giving you both the side eye. “The fuck is wrong with you people? Do you have any decency?”

“Sure, we do,” you chirped.

“Yeah, that’s why we’re in the bathroom,” Jungkook added, softly rubbing your clit and making you bite your lip, enjoying it very, very much.

A muscle in Taehyung’s eyebrow twitched. “Public bathroom,” he snapped, rubbing his forehead. “Fuck, what if it wasn’t me who walked in here? What if It was some goddamn stranger listening to this shit?”

“Speaking of which,” Jungkook mused, cocking a brow. “Normal people would just leave. Why did you stay and listen?”

You didn’t say anything. You were simply happily grinding on his hand, the gentle pressure creating a constant ecstasy that you were completely satisfied with, one hand hooked around Jungkook’s neck, waiting for Taehyung to answer with a huge, amused grin on your face. Taehyung knew everything about you.

It almost meant you knew everything about Taehyung.

He rolled his eyes. “You act like I’ve never heard her orgasm before. Big fucking deal.”

Jungkook gave him a pair of incredibly wide eyeballs that indicated that, yes, that was kind of a big deal.

“Tae was my first kiss.”

“What?’ Jungkook blurted, snapping his head back to you.

You shrugged. “We were, like, eight. Just wanted to know what kissing was.”

Jungkook blinked very rapidly, stunned.

His two fingers were still inside you.

You scrunched up your face, thinking. “We were also each other’s first head and fuck too. Although it wasn’t very good.”

“You were a bit shit,” Taehyung interjected.

“It took you five whole minutes to aim. Even a watermelon would be dry at that point.”

Jungkook was still trying to process that you were each other’s first kiss with his fingers knuckle deep in your pussy. “W… What? Why aren’t you guys dating?”

You snorted. “I can’t do that. He’s like my brother.”

Taehyung stuck his tongue out. “And she’s like my sister. That’s weird.”

Jungkook finally yanked his fingers out of you and threw out his hands in disbelief. “And being each other’s first times for – shit, basically everything – isn’t weird?”

Your eyes flickered to Jungkook’s soaked fingers, your cum stuck between them in viscous strings. Ooh, sexy. You licked your lips, breaking out in a pleased smirk. Taehyung spied what you were looking at and facepalmed. Jungkook seemed to notice too and turned to look at it, suddenly forgetting the whole discussion.

And put his cum-covered fingers into his mouth, moaning deliciously around them.

Taehyung made a horrified face in the mirror, making eye contact with you.

“Um, gross!”

“Eh, shut up, Tae, not like you haven’t done it in front of me before.”

“Well, I don’t wanna watch Jungkook do it,” he shot back, spinning around to glare at you. “He’s your boyfriend!”

You quirked an eyebrow. “You’ve seen other guys do it before when we’ve had threesomes. Plus, you’ve watched me open my mouth with other men’s cum in it so you could cum in my mouth too.”

Jungkook choked on his own fingers.

“WHAT?” he roared.

“You weren’t serious about them!” Taehyung flicked his hand, completely ignoring Jungkook. “And you’re my go-to when the girls I’m seeing want to experience a threesome, so I was just doing you a favor!”

Your boyfriend was having a mild heart attack and neither you nor Taehyung seemed to notice, too busy bickering about your strangely integrated sex lives.

“What’s the difference? It’s just Jungkook. You guys are friends.”

“Yeah, extra reason why I don’t want to sit around and imagine him slurping from your vagina. I gotta look into his eyes later!”

You raised your hands, shaking your head. “So what? You’ve seen my other sex partners in public and never said much about it. Why are you making such a fuss now?”

“Because!” Taehyung flung his hands, stamping a foot on the tile floor in frustration, his handsome features twisted into despair, hands on his head and messing up his dark brown hair. “Because you’re going to stop being my friend now that you’re serious about someone and I can’t do anything about it because that someone is Jungkook and I actually like the guy! I’m fucking happy for you and shit, but, fuck, fuck, what am I gonna do when you’re not in my corner anymore?”

Your jaw dropped, shocked.

“Tae, what are you talking about–?”

He spun around, about to run out, but you were faster, grabbing his arm and pulling him back, yanking him into a fierce hug. And, just like that, Taehyung was that awkward, weird kid in elementary school again, not wanting to admit he was scared and frightened of the big mean boys teasing him about his odd drawings and strange thought processes, calling him a dorky alien. He grabbed your shoulders, shivering, holding back tears.

“No one’s gonna protect me…” Taehyung sniffed, burying his face in your hair. “If you’re gone, I can’t be brave…”

“Hey, you know that’s not true,” you chastised lightly, squeezing him. “You’ve become strong, all on your own. You know that. That whole exhibit is filled with your art. You even got offers to buy some of your pieces. Isn’t that amazing?” You pulled back and placed your hands on Taehyung’s cheeks, smiling up at him kindly. He still looked gloomy and uneasy, lower lip sticking out. “Come on, you know I’m right, Van Gogh,” you teased, pinching his cheeks a little. He fidgeted, frown lessening. “I will always, always be in your corner. No matter what. No guy is going to make me stop being friends or supporting you. You need me to knock someone’s front teeth out, give me the time and place and I got your back.”

“That’s going to send you to jail,” he muttered, smiling slightly.

“Then I’ll go to jail. That’s just glorified detention because they give you free meals.”

He laughed, still with a tinge of anxiousness. “You promise you won’t stop being my best friend over some guy?”

You grinned. “You’ll always be my best friend, Tae. I just happen to really enjoy his company and his dick. You know, a girl has needs.”

He stuck his hand out childishly, pinky sticking out. “Pinky promise me.” Then he stuck his other hand out. “Actually, double pinky promise me.”

You crossed your wrists over each other and pressed your pinkies to his, squeezing his hands tightly.

“I promise I’ll always be your best friend.”

“Uh, guys, you’re kinda making me feel like a third wheel…”

Jungkook might as well have been a bathroom sink to Taehyung and you in this moment.

Taehyung nodded firmly to you. “Okay. You promised. You better keep it.”

You rolled your eyes. “When have I ever broken a promise to you?”

“Hmm, I guess you’re right…” All of a sudden, he looked down at your hands and wrenched his own out of them. “Oi! Where have those hands been, young lady?” He looked at his open hands with a repulsed scowl. “You better not have touched his dick and then my hands without washing yours! That’s disgusting!”

“Hey, I take offense to that,” Jungkook retorted heatedly. “My dick is perfectly clean and she didn’t get to touch me yet because you busted in and interrupted us–”

“What are you going on about, you’ve touched my hands after I’ve given handjobs! I didn’t hear you complaining!”

“He’s done what–?”

“I keep telling you that’s different, this is Jungkook, a man you actually love, and here I thought you were incapable of that.” Taehyung spoke over Jungkook, jabbing his finger into his palm to drive his point home. “You get that sparkly shit in your eyes when you talk about him and it makes me want to puke–”

“I do not get sparkly shit in my eyes, what the fuck does that even mean?”

“You literally will not shut up about how pretty he is!”

“He is pretty! Look at him!” You banished your arms in Jungkook’s direction like he was your first-place trophy on display, which he might as well be at this point with how much attention either of you were giving him. At least he looked the part.

Taehyung rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, throwing his whole head back. “I can give you pretty. You’ve been telling me I’m handsome all my life.”

“Why don’t we just have a threesome?”

Silence.

Both you and Taehyung jerked your heads to Jungkook, jaws dropped at his suggestion.

The door to the men’s bathroom opened and an old man bounced in, humming to himself.

He saw you.

He stopped, tilting his head. Then he looked from Jungkook to Taehyung and wiggled his eyebrows.

“Love triangle or sexy night, boys?”

Taehyung choked on air. “Not a love triangle.”

“Oooh, sexy night.” The old man gave you two thumbs up. “I’d love to join, but I’ll back out this time.”

You laughed heartily as Jungkook and Taehyung grabbed your arms, pulling you out of the men’s bathroom, not about to discuss a possible threesome in front of some old guy who vaguely offered to make it a foursome.

You made sure to give the old man a wink, sticking your head back in the open door to say, “Maybe next time, eh?”

The old man cackled and Taehyung slapped a hand over your mouth, dragging you out.

“Please shut up, I fucking swear…”

“So, why is it different?”

Somehow both you and Jungkook had dragged your best friend into your apartment and tied him to a chair. One of those nice wooden ones with plenty of openings to slip cotton rope through. Probably not what Kim Taehyung thought he was going to do right after his art exhibition, but judging by his peeved, unsurprised face, it wasn’t a completely unexpected result either.

You had pulled up another chair to sit in front of him, still wearing your fur coat, knees between his knees, mostly because Taehyung was forced to spread them because of how you tied the knots.

“I think I hate you,” Taehyung muttered.

“Nah.”

“At least a little bit.”

You slipped the shoulders of your coat down, exposing your skin, casually crossing your arms under your breasts and leaning forward, smiling sweetly at Taehyung. His dispassionate face basically said, ‘go-suck-your-own-dick’. He tried to pulled his arms free.

“Don’t rip your blazer.”

“Bite me.”

“You gonna answer my question?” you asked, redirecting the conversation.

Taehyung clicked his tongue. “I told you. It’s because I can tell you love him.”

You broke your playful demeanor for a second, smiling broadly. “Really?”

He chuckled. “Yeah, you dork.”

“I don’t know if I’ve ever felt like more of a third wheel in my entire life even though you’re talking about how much you love me,” Jungkook said behind you. He was sitting on the couch, as the chairs had been repositioned in the living room.

Taehyung pursed his lips. “That’s why I got scared, you know…” He leaned forward a bit, pouting. “What if you spend so much time with him that you forget about me? What if you guys break up and you blame me?” If he was untied, he would be nervously picking at his lower lip with his right hand right now. Instead, he chewed on it, worried expression clouding his strong features.

You shook your head, reaching out to fluff his brown hair. “You think too much. Why would I blame you over a breakup? If anything, I’d be dragging you out so you can help me keep a record of how many people I can fuck in a night.”

Taehyung made a face. “Why can’t you be normal and cry while eating chocolate?”

“You know I don’t like chocolate.”

“You don’t like chocolate?” Jungkook choked in disbelief.

“I have to fuck my problems away, Tae. That’s the best way to deal with them.”

He rolled his eyes. “You need to see a therapist.”

“Nah, I got you.”

Suddenly Jungkook’s face appeared because you two, sitting on the coffee table.

“How do you not like chocolate?” he pressed, staring at you.

You blinked at him. “I mean, I don’t hate it. I’m just not crazy about it like some people. Isn’t that better for you? I can give you all the chocolate that I receive.”

This thought didn’t seem to have crossed Jungkook’s mind. He grinned, highly pleased with this result.

“You’re even going to give him your chocolate?” Taehyung gasped, affronted. “That’s it, this friendship is over. I can’t believe you would betray me like this!”

You placed your hands on his knees. Taehyung huffed.

“You want me to untie you now?” you asked, patting his thigh and ignoring his dramatic outburst.

“Why? I thought we were going to have a threesome.”

Both you and Taehyung whipped your heads to blink at Jungkook. He smiled innocently, which did not look innocent at all with his sleek purple ponytail and mischievous eyes.

“Nobody agreed to that.”

“Yeah, Jungkook,” you sided with Taehyung. “Nobody agreed to that.”

“Aw, come on,” he nudged, grinning. “You guys have obviously touched each other before, right? And I can totally trust hyung not to fall in love with you.”

“Because my preferred type wouldn’t hump me in a public bathroom,” your best friend muttered.

“I’m sensing judgement here, Kim Taehyung. Watch your mouth,” you warned.

“Choke on my dick.”

“We can start with that,” Jungkook chirped cheerfully.

“Why do you want this, anyway?” You narrowed your eyes at your boyfriend. “You never expressed any interest in threesomes before. I assumed you were too selfish for that.”

“I am.”

You raised an eyebrow.

Jungkook grinned devilishly.

“But I also wanna see you get spit-roasted.”

“Don’t–” Taehyung began.

Jungkook spread his legs, revealing his erection straining in his slacks. Taehyung snapped his head away, groaning an annoyance, disappointed but not surprised that your boyfriend had zero shame. Jungkook bit his lower lip, tiny mole underneath quivering, excitement and lust in his dark brown eyes, looking right at you eagerly. He purred your name. Taehyung visibly cringed.

“You know I would…” you drawled softly, reaching over to squeeze Jungkook’s thigh. “But I don’t think Tae is into it right now.”

“Yeah, I’d only do it if I was horny and desperate.”

“Then why do you have a boner?”

Both you and Taehyung whipped your heads down to see his dick trying to bust out of his pants.

He glared at it. “You traitor.”

“Are you talking to your dick?”

“Look,” Taehyung snapped, letting out a puff of breath and frowning at Jungkook. “I’m not immune, okay? She’s hot, sure. Absolutely one of the sexiest, most beautiful women I know.”

“Aw, so sweet!” you interrupted, smacking his leg in mock bashfulness.

“And,” he gritted, shooting you a scowl. “I might be horny and desperate, sure.”

“So, what’s the problem?” Jungkook inquired, smug smirk on his face.

“Well, you’ll get jealous, for one.”

Jungkook blinked, confused. “What?”

“Taehyung has a big dick.”

You said it so nonchalantly that Jungkook was speechless.

“Mhm.”

“Not as nice as Jungkook’s dick though.”

“Excuse me? I am offended.”

“You honestly need to improve your technique. You think your size alone is all that matters? Jungkook’s the whole package, great dick, cute smile, diligence, strength, always up for anything, perfect duality–”

“Shit, shut up about him, I get it, he’s the hottest thing to walk on this earth, now stop verbally jerking him, he’s not gonna agree–”

“Kiss him.”

You and Taehyung froze.

Eyes flickering to Jungkook, who raised an eyebrow challengingly.

“Kiss him,” he repeated.

Eyes back to Taehyung, who was breathing hard.

“Only because I’m horny and desperate,” he growled.

The corner of your lips ticked upwards.

“Got it bad, eh, Tae?”

You placed your hands on his thighs, sliding down, rising off your chair. You felt Taehyung’s muscles tense, narrowing his eyes. He tried to keep up his severe front, borrowing your tendency to use arrogance to hide your true feelings.

“Isn’t that you?” he challenged. “Need me to satisfy you even though you have Jungkook now?”

You smirked, seeing right through him. “You always give me such blessed service though.”

Something flared in his brown orbs, pupils expanding as you neared. “Don’t.” Your head tilted at his tone, almost pleading, and still you advanced, your soft inhale ghosting his lips. His gaze was on your face the entire time, swallowing hard, anticipation creeping into his stern expression.

“Don’t what?” you whispered teasingly.

“Don’t say it in front of him.”

“But you like it.”

“Yeah, well, he doesn’t need to know my embarrassing turn-ons.”

“What if I slip?”

He clenched his jaw. “Fuck, fine, whatever.”

Your hand reached up to cup his cheek, licking your teeth slowly, maintaining eye contact. Your words a low hiss, laced with pure lust.

“My good little angel, let this devil corrupt you.”

Taehyung whimpered and you closed in on his lips, kissing him deeply, straddling his lap, rolling your hips into his, voracious, greedy kisses, Taehyung gasping in your mouth as you bounced on his crotch, your spread legs causing the hem of your dress to rise, popping over your ass, moaning into his mouth as you worked him under you, his body familiar and comforting. His tongue encircled yours, whining for more, and you mumbled sweet nothings to him, remembering all the things he loved to hear, and he gave you all the things you loved, the neediness in his kiss, the desperation of his hips rising to add more friction. You weren’t exactly immune to Taehyung either. You could control yourself, normally.

But Jungkook gave you the green light, so you went all in.

Your hands were in his hair, tangled in the strands of black coffee, murmuring in his lips, sweet angel, and Taehyung moaned, fiercely thrusting his hips up and you sitting down on it, already wet, sighing satisfyingly at the feeling of his impressive length straining to reach your dripping heat, too many layers of fabric between them.

“Such a good boy doing such bad things,” you purred against his lips, amused at seeing your lipstick all over his mouth.

Taehyung looked up at you with glazed brown eyes, a tinge of unease in them. Maybe he didn’t want to show Jungkook his vulnerable side. You could understand that. You didn’t mind playing your role but Taehyung was more guarded. He didn’t like to be criticized or judged for the things he liked. You noticed his gaze flicker to Jungkook and then back to you.

You tilted your head and cradled his, running your fingers through his hair. “You want me to stop, I’ll stop,” you cooed gently, kissing his ear.

“I don’t want you to stop,” he breathed, so quietly you barely heard it. “I don’t want him to judge me.”

You chuckled. “I wouldn’t worry about that.”

Taehyung made a disbelieving noise.

“Something wrong?” Jungkook asked behind you, sounding curious and confused that his show was paused.

“Mhm, need you to take my coat,” you replied, pulling back, lowering your arms so Jungkook could stand behind you and remove it. You slid your hands out elegantly, seeing Taehyung’s messy dark hair and lipstick-stained lips. You heard Jungkook back up and you reached into Taehyung’s blazer, pulling out his handkerchief and dabbing at his mouth, carefully wiping it off.

“We can stop,” your reminded him gently.

“No,” he growled, frowning. “I’ve got a massive boner and it’s all your fault. Get me off.”

You grinned. “Alright, angel.”

You saw Taehyung bite his lip, shivering at your words. You couldn’t remember how this started, but it always worked. The roleplaying helped with the whole ‘having-sex-with-your-best-friend’ thing ten times less awkward, and it made it much easier for him and you to get off.

Unfortunately, it also was starting to make both of you much hornier while having sex with each other.

Whoops.

He clicked his tongue, raising his head, eyebrow cocked.

“Dirty little devil.”

You smirked. Taehyung’s voice was always sexier when he was aroused, deep and sultry.

One by one, you undid the buttons of his dress shirt, kissing at his exposed chest, the deep rich tone of his tan skin standing out against the white, his eyes closing at your touch, running your tongue down his sternum and blowing on it.

He shuddered, moaning your name, long and sweet.

You shifted, intending to push the chair behind you back, but it was gone. Instead, your ass backed up into a pair of very muscular legs. You paused, turning your head to see behind you.

“Jungkook–”

A firm hand stopped you, forcefully jerking your head back to Taehyung’s chest.

“Look forward,” Jungkook commanded.

A shiver down your spine at his tone. You smirked, peering up at Taehyung, who smiled.

“He jealous?”

“I’m not,” Jungkook snapped, grabbing your ass.

“A little bit,” Taehyung chuckled, and now he was smirking too.

Eerily similar to you, because who else would he learn such a devious expression from? You taught him well. You hummed, yanking Taehyung’s shirt open and pushing it to his shoulders, his naked torso now exposed to your eyes and mouth.

“Can’t imagine why. This was his idea.”

Taehyung jerked his head to you as you lowered yours to his chest. “What?”

But your lips closed around his nipple and he gasped, sputtering, confused, and then moaning as you moaned, Jungkook yanking down your panties and slapping your ass with his open palm, the sting added to the disapproving hiss of your name.

“He’s not supposed to know. I didn’t do all that acting for nothing,” he snarled, and your response was wiggling your ass, nipping your teeth over Taehyung’s chest, his handsome features twisted in ecstasy and pleasure, the tip of your tongue teasing his other nipple, pushing it around with your strong, wet, warm muscle.

“Whoops.”

Taehyung narrowed his eyes at you and your not-so-innocent tone.

Jungkook clicked his tongue. “Such a bad little devil. You need some punishment.”

“He already knew?” Taehyung gritted, glaring daggers at your grinning face, saying nothing, your deft fingers undoing his pants. “Answer me, woman.”

Jungkook was positioning your lower half, ass up, legs spread, pussy exposed to his eyes and hand, your dripping core tense with anticipation. When he spoke, his voice was deep and silvery, laced with danger and desire.

“Answer him.”

And he spanked your pussy, making you cry out and leak between his fingers, the sudden sting of pain so nice, and you had the audacity to continue giving Taehyung that infuriatingly smug expression as you dragged his pants and underwear to his knees, freeing his stiff length that stuck straight up, your body repeatedly lurched forward by Jungkook’s open palm on your soaked slit, your juices splattering on his hand and the inside of your thighs. With a smirk, you lowered your head.

“Mhm, he knew… ah, fuck, yes, Jungkook, just like that…” you sighed in satisfaction, tongue snaking out and wrapping around the head of Taehyung’s cock, bobbing your mouth up and down like that, stimulating just the tip, paying extra attention to the underside of the head. “Sorry, Tae.”

“Swallow me whole,” he growled. “Now.”

You were ready to do it, of course, but you felt Jungkook’s hand clap onto your leaking, heated pussy lips, and the other danced up your back, so you waited, letting him grab your head and push you down, not quite as roughly as he would have if he was actually being mean, but with enough pressure that you knew he just wanted to do the physical action, wanted to feel the power even if there was no maliciousness behind it.

Your lips closed around Taehyung’s pulsing, hard length, taking it all, a familiar girth stretching out your jaw. You made a light gagging sound as the head hit the back of your throat, not quite suffocating, but enough to indicate, stop pushing me, and Jungkook lifted the weight off your head, still gripping your hair, messing up your perfected style of the night.

“That’s a good girl, swallowing all that dick,” he purred, sliding a finger into you.

You whined, clenching your walls around it, squeezing tight, wanting more.

“Suck.”

You did, obediently, looking up at Taehyung, his head tipping back, low moans escaping his throat as your tongue squirmed at the base of the head in your throat, muscles clinching around his cock, your lips around the base. You swiped your tongue down, stretching it out even farther, past your lips, slurping nosily at his balls, flicking them rapidly with the tip, feeling him get harder and harder, twitching against the roof of your mouth, bending a little due to the lack of space.

“Fuck, let go of her head, fuck!”

Jungkook released you and you grabbed Taehyung’s hips, starting a fast, intense pace, swirling your tongue around his cock, another long finger wiggling into your slick folds, thrusting into you from behind, your legs shaking with strain, Taehyung moaning louder and louder, filling up your apartment with his lust.

“Don’t fucking stop, fuck, you have the devil’s tongue, a-ah, it’s so fucking good…”

Jungkook scissored his fingers in you, the squelching sound loud and lewd, and you spied Taehyung tipping his head back, panting, watching Jungkook finger you from behind, his other hand smacking your ass periodically to watch it bounce and hear you moan, your hips bucking back into his hand every time you ascended from Taehyung’s cock.

“Give her another,” he gasped. “Stuff her more.”

Jungkook snickered. “For an angel, you’re all about the punishment, hm?”

But he did as he was told, shoving another finger in you and you whined, nearly popping your mouth off Taehyung’s thick length, stopping only because of imposing baritone.

“Don’t you fucking dare. Take it all. Or are you telling me you can’t? Telling me you’ve lost your touch?”

You went back down, narrowing your eyes, rising to his challenge. Your best friend knew everything about you and therefore he knew that the second he made it a question of your ability, well, that brought out the best in you.

“Fuck!”

Also made you almost vacuum his dick, but he asked for it.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuuuuuuuck!”

Tighter, faster, tongue all over, nearly forgetting Jungkook was touching you at all because Taehyung had doubted you and you weren’t having that shit, fuck no, not even with Jungkook’s free hand snaking between your legs and feeling for your clit, rubbing it at the same furious pace you were blowing Taehyung’s jerking cock, tipping your head back and angling it so the head scraped against the roof of your mouth, locking your knees to prevent the shudders of pleasure from ruining your rhythm, so good, fuck, feeling so good with the pumping of Jungkook’s powerful fingers, electric satisfaction radiating from your throbbing clit, clutching Taehyung’s hips so hard he was getting indents from your nails, determined to get him there before you, and, by the sound of his breathless cries of your name and the trembling of his impressive girth, he was there.

“Yes, a-ah, you’re so good, so fucking good, I’m gonna cum, oh, fuck!”

His orgasm exploded, flooding your mouth with a gush of saltness, thick strings of cum painting the back of your throat, and you gulped it all down greedily, eyes rolling back, the tense coil inside you snapping and drenching Jungkook’s hands with your own orgasm, your legs unlocking and giving out, shaking and flinching as wave after wave of vicious pleasure flooded through you, Jungkook’s strong arms holding you up, moaning at the feeling of your pussy convulsing around his fingers, still lightly rubbing your clit through your orgasm, whines and whimpers crammed in your throat due to Taehyung’s cock in your mouth, sliding all the way to the base and swallowing around it, because you knew he loved it, wanted it, craved it, groaning carnally, the head swelling and pulsing, nearly suffocating you.

“Feels so f-fucking good… a-ah, yeees…”

You stayed in the position for as long as you could, a good minute, before backing up with a choked gasp, clutching Taehyung’s thighs, eyes drifting up to his and he looked down at you, fucked-out, content, grateful, black-brown curls falling all over his forehead and cheeks, so casually sexy and perfect.

“Good angels always taste the best,” you rasped, licking your abused lips.

Taehyung grinned.

“Untie me, devil.”

“Damn, you do have a big dick.”

“… Stop looking.”

“Why? I wanna see what she put in her mouth.”

You teased the head with the tip of your tongue, smirking. Taehyung looked away, ears turning red.

“You two are shameless.”

“Yeah, but you like it,” you laughed, straddling his lap, casually leaning over him to untie him. You heard Jungkook make a clicking sound and you assumed he was making a frame with his hands and miming taking a photo.

“Stop that,” Taehyung muttered, face full of your covered breasts. “Oi, take your clothes off if you’re gonna squash my face with your tits.”

You rammed your chest into his face to muffle his protests.

“Mmm, yes, no faster way to make me limp than you sucking Jungkook’s face off.”

You were too busy grabbing Jungkook’s naked ass and moaning in his mouth, tongue on tongue, purple strands brushing against your forehand, his hands on your ass and squeezing it roughly, rutting his rapidly hardening cock against your thigh.

“You want me to leave you guys alone?”

You broke the kiss, snapping your head around to see Taehyung raising an eyebrow at you from the head of your bed, completely naked. Jungkook continued slowly humping your thigh, peaking pre-cum all over and adding to his own stimulation.

“Are you done being an insufferable shit or what?” you glowered.

“Mmm, no.”

“Hmph, fine, just fuck me from behind then if you’re so needy,” you sighed, turning back to Jungkook’s amused smirk.

“No. I want the mouth again.”

You and Jungkook shared a confused look. “Huh, why?” you both said at the same time, looking at him in unison.

Taehyung lifted his chin defiantly, pointing to you. “I wanna stuff my dick into your mouth and fuck your face because you tricked me.”

You gasped, feeling slighted. “I told you it was Jungkook’s idea, why am I getting punished? You schemed against me first!”

He shrugged. “You corrupted him so, technically, it’s all inherently your fault.”

You protested as Jungkook laughed, pushing you into position despite you verbally fighting back.

“What! All I did was exist! Is it my fault that Jungkook was thirsting after my ass and you decided it would a taste of my own medicine, only to have it backfire in your face? And what if I wanna look at his handsome face? Huh? Why am I not getting a say in – mhpf!”

You yelped as Jungkook and Taehyung shoved your face first into Taehyung’s crotch, his semi-hard cock smacking you in the cheek and getting a mouthful of his nuts.

“Lick.”

They both said it at the same time. You saw them share a look of surprise, shocked that they were thinking the same thing, ignoring you.

Hey, nobody ignores you.

You wrapped your lips around one of his balls and sucked, tongue surrounding it, causing Taehyung to squeal and spread his legs, his cock swelling instantly, especially as your tongue poked out and lapped at the other while sucking intently.

“Good little devil,” Jungkook praised, patting you on the head before backing up, leaving you to rearrange Taehyung’s nuts with your mouth, licking and sucking all over, him gasping and moaning above you, falling back against the headboard.

“You’re crazy, fucking crazy…”

You switched sides, pressing your lips into his crotch to stuff your mouth full before sticking your tongue out and wiggling it on the underside of the other, his thick length now hitting you in the nose, and you realized Taehyung wasn’t going to help you with this, so you internally sighed and reached up to grab his dick and stroke it slowly as you continued your make-out session with his nuts.

Taehyung was chanting your name over and over like it was a prayer, as if he was saying it in attempt to ask for his soul to be saved.

You felt the bed bow and you lifted your head as far as it could go, which wasn’t very far because you still had one of Taehyung’s balls still in your mouth. You were still sucking on it.

He moaned above you, clutching your pillows for dear life.

You heard a condom being opened and felt Jungkook’s knees spread yours, deep silvery voice purring your name.

“Wanna see you take two dicks at once, naughty devil,” he teased, pressing the head of his cock against your soaked opening.

You unlatched your mouth and Taehyung seemed to see stars for a hot second, reeling.

“Hope you’re prepared, sweet angel,” you taunted, and then you swallowed his dick.

“Fucking shit!”

You moaned around his cock, letting it fill you to the throat, Jungkook’s perfect length thrusting into you at the same time, stretching you out deliciously, his own moan adding to your pleasure. There was just something about Jungkook’s moan, the longing, the possessiveness, the love. It made you wetter every time, bringing newfound energy to your meticulous sucking of Taehyung’s cock, who finally seemed to get his bearings and remember what the fuck was going on and what he wanted to do in the first place, because he finally straightened, large hands fitting around your head, pushing your hair back.

“You know why you’re so good at sucking dick?”

You tried very hard not to roll your eyes, already knowing what was coming. You decided to focus on Jungkook’s cock instead, pumping in and out of you, powerful, deep strokes, his hands gripping your hips, trying so hard to please you, and he was good at it, hitting all your favorite spots that made you squirm back against him.

“Because I let you suck mine,” Taehyung growled, holding your head and thrusting into your throat.

Mmmhmm, you thought to yourself. Not that he was wrong, because he wasn’t, being your first and all, but, come on, you didn’t get all your skills from sucking one dick, no matter how amazing Taehyung’s was. Oh well, you let it slide, simply enjoying not having to do much as your best friend fucked your face and your boyfriend pounded your pussy.

Ah, bliss.

The feeling of your mouth being filled and used, stroking Taehyung’s hips with your fingertips, elbows on the bed, legs spread open for Jungkook to slap his crotch into your ass wetly, back to front, a constant encompassing ecstasy that you welcomed, letting them command the pace, hands on your head and hands on your ass, familiar hands, loving hands, because even if Taehyung didn’t want to take you on dates and wake up next to you every day, he still loved you, still made sure he didn’t actually hurt you, careful to thrust hard but not deep, or thrust deep but not hard.

Jungkook wanted to take you on dates and hold you on his arm like his trophy and be waltzed around as yours, so… romantic? It was your version of romance, anyway.

And sex.

Lots of sex.

Fuck, he was so good at fucking you, leaning down, giving you more, chuckling as he heard you moaning around Taehyung’s cock, faster, harder, yes, fuck, yes, so good, your noises trapped in your chest, Taehyung increasing the speed, breathing shallowing.

“Fuck, yes, tighter, give it to me, you dirty devil,” he growled and you obeyed, closing your lips and pressing your tongue against the bottom, sandwiching his length in your mouth, your pussy also squeezing Jungkook harder, basking in his sinful moan, enamored with his voice and the way he said your name, never getting enough.

“A-ah, you feel so good, your pussy is so fucking good, gonna make me cum…”

So rough, so intense, so full of cock, keeping your holes tight, relishing in the way they forced themselves into your mouth and pussy, heady and intoxicating pleasure, you tipping over the edge, wailing around Taehyung’s thick girth as you spilled onto Jungkook’s rock-hard length, mind-numbing satisfaction that spread all over, hot and melting into you. Your walls violently spasmed and caused Jungkook to gasp, cock twitching and jolting inside you, shooting thick spurts of cum that filled the condom, and he buried himself all the way in, a wanton moan of your name echoing off your bedroom walls, savoring the feeling of you milking him, gripping your sides and squeezing you lovingly.

Suddenly, Taehyung yanked his cock out of your mouth and you coughed, startled at the abrupt loss, only for him to orgasm all over your face, hot white strings shooting out of his glistening cock and his hand guiding them, painting your cheeks and open mouth, dripping onto your tongue and clinging onto your swollen lips.

“Tae! What the fuck?!”

He snickered, smearing the residual cum on the side of your frown, winking.

“Blessed service, eh, you devil?”

“Is it gonna be like this every time we hang out now?”

You climbed onto Jeon Jungkook’s lap, kissing him deeper, trapping his slim waist in between your thighs, his hands sliding up your skirt, moaning into your mouth as Kim Taehyung smacked you in the shoulder blades, the sound masked by the obscenely loud music of the club as onlookers watched you and Jungkook with increasing interest.

Probably all dreaming of threesomes with you two.

“Hello, you two are supposed to be helping me getting laid, not getting laid right in front of me!”

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #taehyung x reader #taekook x reader #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #taehyung smut #taehyung x you #kim taehyung x reader #kim taehyung x you

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unloved-cadillac · 3 years

Note

Could I request a Bungou Stray Dogs, Chuuya Nakahara x Reader (she/her) smut where the reader is on top? Perhaps some NSFW stuff like bondage, knife play, and maybe even choking? Sorry if this is a lot (T_T) I don’t want you to feel rushed or anything

C/n: ohhoohooo a spicy request👀 a hella spicy request. Thanks for being so considerate, Anon. Thanks for the request and I hope that you enjoy🤍

Warnings: dom!reader, sub!Chuuya, degradation, praise, dirty talk, blood warning(??), knife play, bondage. 18+

———————————————————————

When I’m On Top, I’m In Charge(A Chuuya x Reader NSFW(af) Oneshot)

Being with Chuuya was, well, a roller coaster. And not in a bad way. He always made you laugh, made you smile and was so, so good to you.

Especially at sex.

You both were so fucking kinky that you actually laughed when the topic was brought up. He knew all your places as did you. Where you both liked being touched, kissed, spanked. You both have been intimate for a while now, and you both had some convo’s of what type of kinks you both liked. Both of you established that you both were switches. He liked to dominate but also being dominated and you liked being manhandled but could also work a strap-on.

You told him you liked praise and choking to which he replied with he liked being choked. You widen your eyes at that and smirk. “Ooh, that’s interesting. No wonder you use chokers.”, you wiggle your eyebrows at him. He chuckles with a faint blush on his cheeks. Luckily, both of you were super comfortable with talking about this type of thing openly and always wanted to experiment in your sex life. Chuuya was thankful to have a girlfriend like you so he could open up about all the kinks none of his previous girlfriends never knew, or rather never cared, about.

Out of all the kinks that you both exchanged, there was one which stood out for you. Knife play. Chuuya told you about it one night about how there was something so sensual and exciting about having a blade run down your body, heightening the arousal of both partners. It was that and gun play but Chuuya never really liked the idea of having guns in the house. Which was odd for a Mafia executive. But nonetheless, his kink stayed on your mind for a whole month and that’s how you found yourself at a sex shop, purchasing knives, specifically made for knife play. Boy, was he in for a surprise when he gets home.

When Chuuya came into the house, he wasn’t greated by his loving girlfriend like he usually was. Which confused him. “Y/n?”, he calls out to you while taking his shoes and hat off. “Honey? You here?”, he asks. You walk into in the room and his jaw just drops.

You were using this blood red lingerie which showed off your features. Your beautiful, round breasts which were hoisted up to show the perfect cleavage and thigh belts with something in them but he couldn’t see properly since your robe was blocking it.

“Goddamn.”, was all he could say while you chuckled. “Like what you see, baby?”, you ask sensually. He nods and licks his lips. He starts to walk towards you but you hold out your hand to stop him. “Nah-uh. Strip.” You order him and his cock jumped at the authority in your voice. Guess I’m subbing tonight. He takes off his jacket, then his waist coat. When it came to his shirt, he slowly unbuttoned it leaving you to enjoy the show. When his shirt was off, no matter how many times you had seen him, his body was such a sight to see. He then unbuttoned his pants and carefully pulled them down. He was about to take off his boxers but you stopped it. “Leave them on. Come here.”, you make a come here motion with your hands and he walks to you. You rub his shoulders and kiss his cheek, then his neck and then his collarbones. You pick up his hands and remove his gloves with your teeth while locking your eyes with his. God, he could cum then and there.

You lead him to the bedroom where he was met with the sight of lit candles and some roses. It was beautiful, but what caught his eye was the ropes on the headboard. “What’s all this?”, he asks softly, not wanting to break the spell the room had casted. “A surprise. Lay on the bed.”, you order him and he complies without hesitation. “You’re so obedient babyboy ~”, you purr and his eyes shot open. That nickname...that was new. He liked it. He liked it a lot. You straddled his waist and moved his hands above his head to tie them, thanking god that you learnt how to tie properly. “You okay? Is it too tight,”, you ask him and shakes his head. “It’s perfect.”, he simply answers and you smile. You wake up on the bed, with his body still in between your legs and you take off the robe. His eyes ran along your body and when he came to your thighs, wow was he shocked.

There were beautiful knives on your thigh garter belt. All red in color and Chuuya’s cock was rock hard. He met your eyes and you chuckled. “Don’t think I forgot of that little kink you had, baby.”, you say as you lean down to kiss him on his lips. He moaned into it and bucked his hips towards yours. You pull away and grip his neck. “Try that again and we’ll see if you cum tonight.”, you say squeezing a bit. Chuuya was loving this. He loved your dominant side and they way you could hold yourself when it came to this.

You loosened your grip and Chuuya looked at you, smirking. “Apologize.”, you say and shakes his head. “Why should I?”, he says cockily and you quickly pulled out a knife from your belt and placed it against his neck. “Otherwise I’ll slit this pretty throat of yours, babyboy. Apologize.”, you sternly say and he gulps a bit. “I-I’m sorry, Mistress.” Chuuya says and you kiss his cheek. “You really are a good boy, you know that? Loving me and letting me use you. But there’s more to what meets the eye isn’t it? You love the danger of me. The fact that I have your life in my hands right now makes you beg like the whore you are.”, you say sadistically. “Yes. Yes, I love it. I’m your whore.”, Chuuya says and you smirk while moving the blade down his throat and onto his chest.

“The fact that with a flick of my wrist, I’ll slit your beautiful skin, showing a tear of blood and watch it fall. Would you like that? Me marking you with my blade?”, you ask and he watches you. “Yes! Mark me, Mistress. Show me who I belong to.”, he pleads, getting a bit frustrated from the lack of touching. Just like that, you make a tiny slit on his left rib and watch a faint line of blood form. You lean down and lick his cut earning a moan from him. “Mmm, Mistress~”. You run the cold blade down to his boxers and slice open the button, and drag it down exposing his swollen cock. “Look at that. So pathetic. I barely touched you, too.”, you say and drag the blade on the underside of his cock making him groan. His chest was heaving and he was hating you not touching him. “Oh, Mistress~ Please touch me.”, he begs and you look up at him. His begging voice turned you on more than you planned and you carefully took off of your lingerie and settled yourself on his cock, sitting on his underside. You grind your wet pussy on him and he moans. “Please, Mistress. More. I need to be in you. I need to feel you.”, Chuuya chokes out and you smile. “Since you’re begging so nicely for me. I’ll give you what you want.”, you wake up and position his tip on your entrance and sink yourself down onto him. Both of your moans synched with each other and Chuuya threw his head back in feeling you. He fitted in you perfectly, like you both were made for each other.

You started bouncing on him, making the bed creak and he wanted, no, needed to touch you now. To grip your hips and to kiss you. “Mistress, please untie me. I want to touch you.”, Chuuya begs and you groan. Not in annoyance but in pleasure. You opened your eyes and moved to untie him, making him smile. His begging always worked on you. But you smiled back at him and gripped his neck instead.

“When I’m on top, I’m in charge.”

And you ride him faster. The knot in your belly slowly building up and you squeezed his neck tighter. Chuuya couldn’t moan nor call out to you. He started to get a bit lightheaded and he loved it. You could feel yourself getting close and you felt his cock twitch in you. “Cum with me, Chuu. Fill me me up with that cum I love so much.”, your moves were rapid now. Rolling your hips the perfect way mad Chuuya roll his eyes back.

“Cum, Chuuya.”, you say and you both explode. Before he could pass out you let go of his neck and collapsed on his chest. Both of you were sweaty and panting and exhausted. You woke up from Chuuya’s chest to see his eyes closed. You giggle. “Chuu? Honey? You okay?”, you ask as you loosen the ropes and untie him. You straddle him and cup his face, wiping the sweat away from his face.

“I’m amazing. That was amazing. You’re amazing.”, he pants out and you lean down and kiss him. His wrists were red but he didn’t care. “Where the hell did you get those knives?”, he asks you. “The store. Did you enjoy it? Are you okay?”, you ask him, looking at the cut you made on his rib. He chuckles. “I’m fine. It didn’t even hurt. I love you, Y/n.”, he tells you while cupping your cheek. “I love you too, Chuuya.”

All of a sudden, you’re flipped over and Chuuya is hovering over you with a devilish smirk on his face. The smirk that told you that you’re not going to be able walk properly tomorrow.

“Now, I’m in charge.”

———————————————————————

“Ohhh, Knife Play.”

🖤🤍Thanks for reading🤍🖤

-Caddy.

#chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara #bsd chuuya #bungou stray dogs chuuya #chuuya nakahara x reader #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs smut #chuuya smut #nakahara chuuya #bsd anime #bsd imagines

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lovelytarou · 3 years

Text

the language of flowers — oikawa tooru

pairing: oikawa tooru x gn! reader

genre: fluff, flowershop!au

tags: flowerboy!oikawa, slowburn, strangers to lovers

word count: 4.06k

a/n: i finally finished this after 2536484 years of procrastination! but thanks to my moots shae and julie for showing support and giving their opinions about this concept hehe. this is the longest fic i've written wow 😳

⤷ summary: the flowershop on the street you frequently walk on going home is a wonder you didn't notice until recently when the smell of flowers caught your attention. deciding to enter it one day out of pure curiosity, you met the owner of the shop and with it, the start of a blooming romance.

life was filled with repeating patterns, certain routines and habits that everybody has gotten used to doing. like the way you always took the same path when going home, passing by the familiar faces you encounter all the time, seeing the similar architecture and landscape that brings some sort of familiarity to you whenever you see it.

your feet stopped in their own accord when a sweet smell invaded your nose. you inhaled deeply, the aroma pleasant and fresh. going a few steps back, you finally saw where it was coming from. the flower shop stood out like a sore thumb in the street with its vibrant flowers that you can see through the clear glass. the sunlight was shining down upon the beautiful flowers and they looked charming even from afar.

you thought for a moment and decided that you'd stop by in the flower shop for a little while. besides, if the smell alone has caught your attention, who knows what else can?

the soft tinkle of the bell on the door signalled your presence. you were simply in awe at the sight of the decorations inside the shop. it was breathtaking. numerous flowers, bouquets, wreaths, and some that you don't know the name about were placed neatly and elegantly inside the shop to let the customers feast their eyes (and noses) upon.

giggles and loud laughter snatched you away from your thoughts, a huddled group of women and men alike are circling over something - or someone? - and they seemed to be too entertained about it than the flowers themselves. chuckling quietly, you shook your head and decided to look around the place more for yourself.

there were buckets and baskets of anemones in pinks, reds, and purple. there were also daffodils, camellias, and tulips of many colors that you can't help but get sucked in by them. you can't think which one to go to first, there are so many! the hanging plants are wonderful as well, they can make for great decoration. the succulents look cute and adorable, it can also be manageable if you find yourself too busy to take care of a plant.

you were too deep in your thoughts, caressing a blue tulip to even notice the sudden silence in the shop and the ringing of the bell at the door that tells you the previous patrons have exited the flower shop and you're now alone. or so you thought.

“beautiful,” a sing-songy, lilting voice spoke from behind you, causing you to jolt from where you're admiring the flower and turned towards the owner of the voice.

if the flowers took your breath away, well he made you get your breath stuck in your throat. he looks like he's not from around him, and simply breathing in his space is something short of disgraceful. you took in his wavy side-swept dark brown hair, and his welcoming eyes of the same color that shone with mischief. his lips are stretched into a smile.

wow, he is really tall. you're surprised he hadn't reached the ceiling of the shop. he seemed pretty intimidating with his height alone, but there's an air around him that screams playfulness.

“ah, i meant the tulips.” he apologized as a blush coated his beautiful clear cheeks, a hand touching his nape.

“oh!” you cleared your throat, immediately bringing the tulip back where it respectfully resides, “yes, they're very wonderful to look at. you have a lovely shop, uh…”

he seemed to perk up at the inquisition of his name, he chuckled to himself before offering his hand.

“oikawa tooru, nice to meet you! and thanks, i do try hard to keep this flower shop presentable for customers like you who have taste.” he winked, walking past you and you followed suit – eyes practically glued to his form as he moved swiftly around his small shop.

“must be difficult to run a business like this all by yourself,” you wondered, fingers brushing against petals that your hand can reach.

it's odd, but staying in there for just a few minutes has brought you a sense of relaxation. as if the flowers all around you and talking to oikawa is such a breath of fresh air.

“well, you get used to it after a while. besides, i have my friends, uh...help me sometimes.” he nervously chuckled, he certainly knew that 'help' means that force his friends to carry things around while blackmailing them and bribing them for lunch, then sure, he had them help him.

you only hummed in response.

he turned around after a while, a pink lily in his hand.

“i think this suits our gorgeous customer, don't you think?” he smirked, handing the flower with a flourish which you took gently – causing your hands to touch and making you feel that slight tingle people talk about in movies and books.

you felt silly about the way your face heats up at the small gesture, your gaze not straying away from the flowers in fear of letting oikawa see his effect on you.

but you can try with all your might, nothing can stop him from already seeing your flushed face. he always does these things to entertain the customers but he found his chest feeling warm staring at you like that.

going back to his place in the cashier, he started to tidy up a bit for the next customers that will visit the shop. his brown eyes kept staring at you from time to time as you walked around, trying to see if there's anything else you could buy along with the lily – but we all know it's just to keep your attention away from him and the fact that he can make your heart race with mere flirting.

“i never really noticed your shop before, and i have walked this street for how many times now.” you droned on, playing with the cute pots on the shelf – some of them were heads of the cliché green alien and other space themed stuff which you find adorable, bringing a fond smile to your face.

“oikawa's flower shop is like a secret garden, my dear customer.” he boasted, spraying freesias on the cashier desk with a smile on his face.

“it truly looks like one,” you agreed, with one final look in the flower shop, you walked closer to the cashier and got out your wallet.

“no, no. it's on the house, lovely.” he beamed, stopping the hand in your bag.

“really? thank you.” your face flushed at the feeling of his hands – the very same one who took care of these beautiful flowers – touching yours.

he recoiled, as if burned. his face painted a deep red like the roses by the windows. both of you looked away, like two magnets of the same sign – coming in contact with each other only to repel.

“well, um, i'll see you around then.” you muttered, breaking the silence.

“yeah, see you.” oikawa smiled warmly. hopefully much sooner, he hoped.

with one last look at each other, you turned around and exited the secret garden. you walked home that day all smiles and giddy, still feeling the lingering touch he has left on your skin, how warm and calloused they felt. maybe from how hard he was working.

you wondered if you'll ever see him again soon.

the second time you visited the flower shop was when you saw oikawa in one of the coffee shops you frequented. it turned out that he usually stops by for coffee and his milk bread when the shop's particularly slow. he asked to walk you home and since you're both taking the same path, you agreed.

he turned out to be a very chatty person – not the kind that will annoy you because they only talk about themselves, but the amusing kind because he has a lot of stories stored inside his big brain full of tales about him and his friends, and occasionally asking about your life as well.

you two had fallen into a comfortable pace as you walked together, sipping both your beverages.

“hey, let's play truth or dare!” he blurted, eyes sparkling in excitement and thinly veiled mischief, a bright smile on his lips.

“really? here? now?” you asked, incredulous. isn't this something people do in parties around a lot of people?

“yeah! it'll be fun,” he shrugged.

“well, okay then.” you sighed, before sipping your drink, “you go first.”

“okay…” he pretended to think hard, eyes darting everywhere as he hummed, “truth or dare?”

“you don't really need to think so hard about that,” you chuckled.

“just pick!”

“alright, alright. truth!” you beamed at him, trying to understand what his brain will cook up to ask you.

“ah, that's easy. what's your name?” oh, that's right. you forgot to tell him back then the first time you went in his flower shop. and so, you told him.

“y/n. what a beautiful name. okay, my turn! my turn!” he excitedly chanted, eyes never losing their sparkle.

you ignored the butterflies that erupted in your stomach the moment he said your name, as if he's taking his time and tasting it around his tongue like a foreign delicacy he hasn't tasted before.

you cleared your throat, averting his gaze as they zeroed in on you, “truth or dare, mr. milk bread?”

“hey, they taste really good, i'll have you know.” he scoffed, before his face morphed back into excitement again, “dare!”

you thought for a moment, there isn't really anything too interesting to do while walking. and then you smirked.

“i dare you to greet the person who will walk this corner as if you knew each other for a very long time,” you grinned devilishly. he gaped at that, before darting his gaze towards the street corner you were talking about.

“y/n-chan, i didn't know you would be the type,” he teased, you were about to retort when a huge, buff man walked around the corner. he looked intimidating, even for you and you wondered what oikawa might be feeling right now.

but you didn't need to wonder about it any longer as he was already walking up to the man, confident and grinning. he raised his hand in the air before slapping the guy on the shoulder.

“hey, long time no see, man! say hello to the wife and kids for me, will ya?” the man gave him a weird look before shaking his head, walking past and minding his own business muttering about 'kids these days'.

once the guy was out of earshot, you and oikawa bursted out in laughter, looking at each other with relief and surprise.

“i thought he was going to pulverize you!” you wheezed in between chortles.

“i know! me too! i thought he'll get mad at me or something,” he threw his head back as he laughed. you stopped your own giggles to stare back at him. he looked radiant as he let himself go, you thought he looked attractive with the way he candidly showed his happiness.

“something wrong, y/n-chan?” you hadn't realized he stopped laughing and was left staring at him. his head was tilted in curiosity as he peered at you in concern.

“not at all!,” you catch yourself, suddenly feeling hot and embarrassed, hoping he didn't notice you ogling him, “where were we?”

“it's your turn now, truth or dare?” feeling bold, you chose dare next.

oikawa gave you a broad smile, his hand extending towards you as if encouraging you to take it, “i dare you to stay a little longer with me in my shop,”

to be honest? you expected him to get back at you and maybe make you do an equally embarrassing (if not more) dare, but you did not expect this.

what you also didn't expect is the fact that you had stopped in front of oikawa's flower shop with your back turned to it. how did you reach there so fast? it seemed like talking and walking with him made time stop. a part of you would like to keep it that way, if only it was possible.

“i would love to,” was your answer. oikawa opened the door to his shop, letting you in first. he then led you near the back of the shop, opening into a wide backyard that resembled a small, gorgeous garden with different kinds of flowers. some even you haven't seen him display in the shop inside.

the two of you sat on the two seated table. you were simply at awe with how ethereal this all looked. your eyes couldn't get enough of all the wonderful colors that it landed on.

“wow,” was all you managed to say, taking in your surroundings and appreciating every nook and cranny presented to you.

“i spent most of my breaks here,” oikawa came back with two glasses of water and placed them on the glass table.

“usually talking to myself and talking to the flowers. i heard it helps them grow faster and makes them more beautiful.” he, too, looked around his small garden with unconcealed pride and fondness. if you looked closer, you could also see the hint of sadness hidden in there.

“you talk to your flowers? that's so cute!” you gushed, hiding your smile behind the glass of water as you sipped it.

“if anything, you're the one who's cute.” he complimented as if it was nothing, eyes boring into yours as his smile widened.

you choked on your water, coughing it up out of surprise and it was the opposite of cute. but his opinions didn't change.

oikawa barked a laugh, reaching over to pat your back soothingly. once you calmed down, you avoided his gaze once again and decided to stare at the sunflowers nearby.

“we should just continue the game,” you decided to divert the topic.

“truth or dare, cutie?” oikawa bit back the grin from emerging on his face. hiding it with a palm propped up on the table.

“d-dare,” you answered without thinking. and oikawa being the little shit he is, took this as an opportunity.

“i dare you to go on a date with me this saturday,” he sincerely declared, eyes not leaving you once. your head whipped back to him so fast, you swear you got whiplash.

you're not one of these flowers and yet you felt the butterflies going wild inside of you.

your heart beat rapidly inside of your chest, pounding hard and ringing in your ears.

“you don't need a dare to get me to say yes,” you reasoned with a wide smile.

oikawa tooru, like his flowers, is a lively, blooming person. you get to know that the moment you agreed to go on a date with him. it followed a few hangouts, and frequent bumping into each other considering this was a small town, afterall. how you haven't noticed such a vibrant person in your life was beyond you.

you see him everywhere, every day in your life right now. in the small bushes that your neighbor has in their garden, the alien and sci-fi movies in the store which were his favorite every time he invited you to watch a movie, the milk bread you saw in the coffee shop you both love to go, and even the characters in the books you love to read. oikawa tooru practically invaded your life the moment you invited yourself in his flowershop and you loved every second of it.

every time you two hang out together, he never misses to bring you any flower. you'd always keep them with you until you come home, placing them in a vase and watering them constantly, taking care of them like how much oikawa takes care of the flowers. you paid no mind to it, only thinking that it was a sweet gesture from him until your friend decided to comment on the fresh flowers on top of your coffee table.

the both of you had known each other for a very long time now and that she's going to get married, she wanted you to be a part of it too. setting down the tea in front of her on the table, you sat down beside her, engulfing her in a hug.

“oh, y/n! i missed you so much! it's been busy with all the planning for the wedding and the people to invite, i still haven't tried on my dress and tasted the cake, it's kind of stressing me out!” she immediately let her sorrows and agony free the moment you let go of the hug.

“speaking of stress, is there anything i could do to help?” you reached for her hand, rubbing it soothingly in circles.

she hummed thoughtfully, sipping her tea to calm her nerves, “now that i thought about it, we still don't know anyone good enough for the flower decorations in the venue,” she pouted, sighing sadly.

a lightbulb lit itself on top of your head, making you perk up, “i know someone who does!”

“really? are they good?” oh more than good, you wanted to butt in but shake your head free of those thoughts.

“of course! he's actually the one who gave me these, he takes real good care of them.” you gestured towards the tulips in your vase. it seems like her eyes lit up and she immediately fell in love with the flowers.

“tulips?! oh, y/n, my dear, he's in love with you!” she squealed in glee, bouncing in her seat like a little kid.

“how did you know that by simply looking at my tulips?”

“giving tulips to someone means a declaration of love, sweetie.” she sighed dreamily, “you might as well plan for your wedding too!”

“don't be ridiculous!” you exclaimed, trying your best not to smile too wide.

you weren't too against on the idea, but you just met afterall. it would be too early for another wedding. even though he never failed to show his affection every time you are together, there's still a lingering doubt whether he did like you in that way.

as promised, you asked oikawa about it the next day, stopping by his flower shop with coffee and his beloved milk bread since it's his break.

“y/n-chan! it's always a pleasure to be visited by you again,” he greeted you, he was attending to a few customers in the store and excused himself before talking to you. your heart swelled with the action, not being able to hide your smile this time.

“tooru, i was just stopping by to ask you a favor. my friend's wedding is getting near and she still doesn't have any flower decorations for the venue. i mentioned you and i was wondering if you're the one who could do it instead?” you bit your lip nervously, fumbling with the paperbag containing the bread as you looked up at him hopefully.

seriously, how can he resist you looking at him that way? your eyelashes fluttering, mouth formed into a pout, eyes shining brightly. you're just asking him to devour you whole. before he knew it, he had leaned in to peck the corner of your mouth.

it completely shocked you to your core. he hasn't done that kind of thing before, always being respectful and never doing anything you didn't want to. but strangely, you weren't mad at him for it. to tell the truth, you kinda wished he kissed you more.

“i'd love to, y/n-chan.” he uttered, pinching your cheek before turning to hide his own reddened face.

that was basically the last time you saw each other since you recommended him to your friend. and since then, he has been busy and you tried to help with the wedding as well. you figured oikawa has his hands full with taking care of the decorations for the wedding, but even then, he would still message you or even facetime you after – asking about how yiur day went and craving to see your face without him being able to for how long.

the day of the wedding came and it was magical. your heart melted the moment your friends said their “i do's” as everybody clapped and rejoiced with them. the moment you stepped into the venue, everyone was amazed, speechless at the decorations being the first thing their eyes could feast upon. pink and white roses was all you could see – ranging from vine-like ones hanging from the ceiling, to arches in the doorway, and some are even placed neatly on the tables.

to sum it all, it was breathtaking.

“your boyfriend did amazing,” your friend teased, bumping her hip to yours as she walked away with her husband to greet some guests.

you were left standing there, mouth agape as you took everything in. you couldn't wrap your head around the idea of oikawa managing to do all this by himself, but then again, he has surprised you by doing a lot of things you didn't know he could do.

“you know, if you stayed here longer there won't be enough food left for you.” the familiaf voice you grew to love and got used to spoke from behind you. something tugged in your chest, the events seeming like déjà vu all over again.

“i'm just admiring your work, tooru.” you smiled, turning around to face the man behind the beautiful decorations.

he's changed his clothes into a more formal attire than his usual getup with the aprons and white button up shirt for a maroon suit and tie. he even styled his hair back, if you didn't know him long enough you might have mistaken him for someone else.

“you look...good,” you managed to breathe out, it seems like the decorations aren't the only ones that are breathtaking. your eyes drank him in, how the clothes hug his frame perfectly, the color complimenting his skin tone, and the fact that his fluffy hair is swept away really makes you want to jump his bones right here, right now.

“and you look gorgeous. i must say, i don't mind you looking like this all the time, y/n-chan.” he chuckled, a shit-eating grin blooming on his face as he eyed you up and down slowly. your face grew hot against his stare and you felt naked, as if his eyes can see through you.

“th-thanks, tooru.” you mumbled, playing with the hem of your clothes. before any of you could speak, however, the emcee spoke on stage calling out the bride and groom to give a speech.

you all gathered around the small stage as they thanked everyone for coming to the wedding, inclduing the guests, their helpers, the staff. after all the mushy speech, she declared it was time for the dance, turned around and threw the bouquet (that's also from oikawa) to the audience.

you saw the thing flying to you and out of pure instinct, you threw your hand in front of you and ended up catching the bouquet. everyone around you clapped including oikawa himself as you stared at it wide eyed. your gazed met oikawa's and as if your face couldn't get any hotter, you also felt the fast beating of your heart when you stared at each other.

everybody howled and chanted teasing remarks at the two of you. instead of paying attention to the newly weds they picked the two of you as the center of their amusement.

your friend's voice overpowered them all as she also chanted, “kiss! kiss! kiss! kiss!”

oikawa looked at you with a raised brow and you can only smile bashfully in return before you felt the world turn upside down, oikawa dipping you as he kissed you passionately and deeply. time seemed to stop once again as everything blurred and all you can feel is him, and all he can feel is you. he hoped it would be enough to pour all the emotions and words he wanted you to know.

it felt like the kiss lasted forever before he pulled away, the two of you out of breath as you giddily smiled at each other, both sharing a lovestruck look.

“is it too early to ask you to marry me?”

general taglist: @chibishae34 @behan @bukojuiice (tagging you here bcs you're excited for this)

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horrorslashergirl · 3 years

Text

Slasher OC: Decebal Avram Chirilă

Full Name: Decebal Avram Chirilă

Nickname(s): Dacia, Dece, The Impaler, Vladislav, Tiger, Lynx, Dracula, Casanova

Age: 38

Gender: Male

Nationality: Romanian

Place of Birth: Bucharest, Romania

Current Location: Travels from country to country

Occupation: Former Romanian Soldier; Now Hitman

Languages: Romanian, English, German, French, Italian, Hungarian, Russian, Turkish

Appearance:

Height: 6'8

Weight: 240lbs

Body Type: Middle Bulky and Atheltic

Skin Color: Warm Beige

Hair Color: Dark Brown

Hair Style: Short on the sides and longer on top, wavy

Eye Color: Pale Grey, almost white, giving the impression he is blind

Face Claim: Stephen James

Clothing: He opts for comfortable clothing mostly because of his job as a hitman and because he is always on the run. He mostly goes with black T-shirts or shirts, a khaki army coat with many pockets, along with camo army pants again with many pockets and black combat boots. He has a long black scarf with the colors of the Romanian flag trimmed along that belonged to his father.

Other features: He has many scars on his broad back and down his arms; his back's scars are covered by tattoos of an eagle and a grim reaper with two swords in an X shape. His has full sleeve tattoos down his arms, picturing all kind of nature scenarios from his country, mountains and wild animals and AK-47's on each forearm. His neck, chest and legs are also covered by tattoos along with his hands. This guy is all inked up. He also has a silver earing on his right ear. He also wears an eyepatch that is covering his scarred eye that he got from a fight with his brother Alexander, the scar mimiking the ones Alexander has, coming from his eyebrow down his eye and over his cheek.

Weapons: Twin Swords, Twin Guns, and throwing knives.

Power/Skills:

Murderous expertise

Brute strength

Skilled usage of weaponry

Skill in hand-to-hand combat

Knifesmanship

Swordsmanship

Multilingual

Cunning Nature

Charisma

Driving expertise

Ruthlessness

Fearlessness

Manipulation

Marksmanship

Master tactician and strategist

Stealth mastery

Symbols: Here is the link to Decebal's symbols

History/Bio:

Decebal was named after a Romanian king by his parents, father Apostol Chirilă, and his mother, Maria Stratulat of Moldovic heritage. They were a poor family that lived in Bucharest during the communist times, a hard period for them. Decebal's father, Apostol was one of the rebels that were against this form of a system of social organization in which all property is owned by the community and each person contributes and receives according to their ability and needs.

Because of this Apostol and Maria, along with their three years old son, Decebal, were dragged into the communistic jails where they were tortured in all kinds of ways from whipping to starvation to being chained into coldness.

Decebal tried to protect his parents even though he was a small child and the army warden that took care of the horrific jails was surprised by the child's braveness and he took him away from his parents, not before forcing him to watch how his parents were killed brutally.

During the rest of his childhood and teenage years, Decebal spent most of his life in the dark underground jail, training with the soldiers, doing hard work. Despite that, the warden thought Decebal about all kinds of languages, cultures, and history.

'Just because you're a stray dog that doesn't mean you cannot learn to bark and bite.'

In his late teenage years as he grew into an adult man, he got more to the light outside, following the warden wherever he went and did was his so-called 'father' figure did; smoke, drink and got laid with all the ladies.

The warden's words during a drunken late-night:

'You know boy, you will do something big, much bigger than you can imagine. I saw how all these sluts looked at you... You make them fall into your arms like they are desperate whores.'

'Use everything you got; charms, brains, muscles. In this world, there are the ones that walk every inch of the ground as they own it and the ones that follow, all chained. Tell me, boy... Which one you are?'

One of the greatest abilities that Decebal earned during years in the darkness was that he got so used to it that now as an adult, he sees perfectly into the darkness, just like cats do.

Some people called Decebal 'Lynx'; the moniker originates from the fact that Lynx has exceptional night vision, remarkable hearing, and incredible instincts. The spiritual lesson Lynx carries to you is a reminder to partake of quiet observance, remembering there’s more to the world than what’s accessible through the physical eyes and ears alone.

After communism fell down in Romania, Decebal still maintained the attitude he grew up around; being sadistic, cold, and cruel. People weren't too fond of his attitude; his habits including fighting and torturing people that opposed him, getting laid with other men's wives, strolling down the streets like he owned everything.

He disappeared from Romania when there was a reward on his head to be finally executed. The Romanian army was hot on his trail, turning against him, but he simply vanished.

He strolls from country to country, not having a definitive home and working as a rogue hitman to earn money and to survive.

After a brutal fight between him and his twin little brother, Alexander; the two brothers which resulted in both of them almost dead, they get on an agreement of peace between them, with the help of their third part, their little sister Nadia.

Family: His little brother Alexander Chirilă and his little sister Nadia Nikolina Chirilă

His favorite killing style:

He prefers a kill that will put on a good show, he will shot his victims in both their knees, then he will dismember them with his sharp twin swords.

Personality:

Decebal has two paths of personality; the civilian one and the hitman one, that sometimes cross path depending on the situation at hand. In hi day to day life, he is a charming, handsome man, confident and sure of himself, but also having a modesty edge, just to draw people in closer, because he loves the attention, having a God-like complex.

Despite his childhood, he is a very educated man that speaks many languages, sometimes taking people by surprise, he can even put on fake accents. He also has vast knowledge about other countries history, mostly because that's what his 'father-figure' talked a lot about.

He is a flirt, he simply adores to make women swon by his charming looks and mysterious persona wherever he goes, people always wondering from where he comes. He knows how to sweet-talk people, being extremly manipulative. His looks; big and strong, in his eyes a flaming white glow.

You will rarely see Decebal without his charming smile or dark smirk that makes the ladies sigh and faint. He always puts on a winning attitude, knowing for creating many divorces along his travelings.

Here goes his saying: 'If the female raised her tail, who I am to deny.'

He has a romantic side, after all he does speaks the romance languages, but it's highly influenced his his Casanova attitude.

He is blunt; this man will tell if you're damn gorgeous or if you're down-right ugly or stupid. He has no problem putting his opinions straight on the table.

His favorite drink: Țuică- is a traditional Romanian spirit that contains ~ 24–65% alcohol by volume (usually 40–55%), prepared only from plums.

His favorite food: Sarma is a dish of vine, cabbage, monk's rhubarb, kale or chard leaves rolled around a filling of grains, like bulgur or rice, minced meat, or both. It is found in the cuisines of the former Ottoman Empire from the Middle East to Southeastern Europe.

His scent: Decebal's scent could be described as a 'game of seduction' with an "exciting rush" of citrus and cool spice top notes. Pungent bergamot "bites" with freshness, revived by cardamom and lavender. Caviar gives a provocative and erotic touch “like a trickle of sweat on a man’s chiseled body.” Masculine and rough notes of tobacco and orris root facilitate the heat of the composition. He has that scent that could be described as smoky confidence irresistible to women.

Other Characteristics:

He is a very good dancer, especially traditional ones and he also knows singing. Attending important parties with his 'father-figure' he learned from the women how to dance and sing. The women basically made him such a charismatic man.

He is a heavy drinker and holds his alcohol like it's water; his moldovic genes showing off.

He is more of a night person that a day one, mostly because of his very good nocturnal sight.

He is pretty much an Outlaw.

His accent sounds like italian, latin, but with a little bit of russian or another slavic accent. (That's how a Austrian woman described his accent one night)

He is a master at Poker. Another way he earns a lot of money is through poker and plus, he is a master cheater. FUN FACT HERE: He won a man's wife through poker for one night.

He is a sword swallower, bonus he has no gag reflex.

He also loves to smoke from his pipe.

============================================

There lived a certain man in Romania long ago

He was big and strong, in his eyes a flaming glow

Most people look at him with terror and with fear

But to Bucharest chicks he was such a lovely dear

He could preach the Bible like a preacher

Full of ecstasy and fire

But he also was the kind of teacher

Women would desire

DE DE DECEBAL

Lover of the ROMANIAN queen

There was a cat that really was gone

DE DE DECEBAL

Romania's greatest love machine

It was a shame how he carried on

He ruled the Romanian land and never mind the Tsar

But the kazachok he danced really wunderbar

In all affairs of state he was the man to please

But he was real great when he had a girl to squeeze

For the queen he was no wheeler dealer

Though she'd heard the things he'd done

She believed he was a holy healer

Who would heal her son

DE DE DECEBAL

Lover of the Romanian queen

There was a cat that really was gone

DE DE DECEBAL

Romania's greatest love machine

It was a shame how he carried on

(This is an interpretation of the song ‘Rasputin’ by Boney M, mostly because the song inspired me into creating him)

For power became known to more and more people

The demands to do something about this outrageous

Man became louder and louder

"This man's just got to go!" declared his enemies

But the ladies begged "Don't you try to do it, please"

No doubt this Decebal had lots of hidden charms

Though he was a brute they just fell into his arms

Then one night some men of higher standing

Set a trap, they're not to blame

"Come to visit us" they kept demanding

And he really came

DE DE DECEBAL

Lover of the Romanian queen

They put some poison into his țuică

DE DE DECEBAL

Romania's greatest love machine

He drank it all and said "I feel fine"

DE DE DECEBAL

Lover of the Romanian queen

They didn't quit, they wanted his head

DE DE DECEBAL

Romania's greatest love machine

[Spoken:] Oh, those Romanians...

=======================================================

But when his drinking and lusting and his hunger

#Decebal Avram Chirila #Slasher OC #Romanian OC #Original characters #Hitman #Outlaw

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gremlin-flubb · 4 years

Note

So can you do former student of kamome high s/o coming back as a teacher with Tsuchigomori,Tsukasa and Hanako please?

Hope you don't mind a lil a n g s t-

XxX

Headcannon: S/o comes back as a teacher

XxX

Tsuchigomori

Ah, he remembered you.

Yeah, you were the brat who just... Wouldn't leave him alone.

Constantly giving him small gifts;

Cupcakes, rocks, figurines

Whatever you found and 'made you think of him'

He didn't really like you all too much, actually found you a bit annoying.

But when you left, graduated, he couldn't stop the small pang of sadness that went through his chest.

It was like, constantly having a stray dog come around until they just.. Stopped.

So color him surprised when four years later you come back-

And as a teacher no less.

"[Y-Y/n]?"

You turn around from your desk, eyes wide from the sudden intrusion. But when you see your old teacher, you grin.

"Tsuchigomori-sensei! I can't believe you still work here." You walk over to him, giving him a once over. "And you look exactly the same."

He fixes his glasses, "I have a great skin-care routine.." He mutters sarcastically, his usual facade dropped.

But he never really had it up when you were around- he kinda hoped his gruffness would get you to go away.

It did not.

"Apparently," you laugh, eyes alight with old fondness. "I'm glad i get to see you again, my young self would be ecstatic to have you, alone, in a room with her."

"Then I'm glad you're not her."

You laugh again, "Me too! She was so embarrassing.."

Tsuchigomori smirks, hands digging into his white coat as he walks further into your classroom, "Mm very, didn't know when to give up."

"Aha... Yeah... W-Well no worries! I am completely over you!"

He glances at you, then nods.

Because thank god.

He wasn't trying to catch a case back then yo'

Also, he was dead

However, he didn't expect to become so enamored by you the next couple months.

It was if.. The roles had reversed.

But he'd rather die (again) than get you random things.

But l u c k y for him you were a fibber and you were n o t over him.

Tsukasa

Tsukasa was so ecstatic to see you again!

He thought when you didn't return, that was it.

That was the end of seeing you, like, ever.

But it wasn't! You were back!

And.. Taller.

And older looking.

But that didn't matter! Because [Y/n] was still [Y/n]!

But when he tried to hug you, he went right through you.

And you didn't seem to notice him.

So, the next day, he tried something else to get your attention..

Nothing.

Whenever he tried to touch you, or cling to you, or at least get you to notice his existence-

Nothing. He got nothing.

And it made him, so, so incredibly angry.

How dare you ignore him? How dare you act like you didn't remember him.

But he remembered-

Someone close to death would be able to see spirits, right? Wasn't that a rule?

He remembers that when you were a student, you had always been ill.

So you must be better.

Tsukasa didn't like better.

If it meant that you two could no longer be together, then he was just going to have to make everything worse.

Hanako

When he realized you had returned, and as a teacher, he didn't know how to feel.

He was devastated when you graduated, because you left. You left and he was lonely all over again.

But now-

"[Y/n]-chan?" He tries, floating near you.

However, you didn't react

In fact, it was like you didn't hear him at all.

Dread settled in his stomach, eyes dancing across your face when he moves in from of you.

You never acknowledged him, and the air rushed out of him in a painful breath.

After that, he was painfully aware that you couldn't see any of the spirits, or the mysteries.

But he followed you-

Hoping that maybe, just maybe, you would acknowledge him again.

"[L/n]-Senpai, you know about the seventh mystery, right??"

You blinked at one of your students, as did Hanako.

Hope bubbled in his chest-

Maybe... Just maybe..

"I believe so, but which one is it again..?" You replied sheepishly.

"Hanako-san! The one in the-"

"-Girls bathroom." You interrupted abruptly, brows furrowing. "Hanako..san?"

"Mhm! Do you remember how to contact her?" The student asked, and Hanako watched as you shook your head.

"You knock three times on the third stall and say, 'Hanako-san, Hanako-san; Are you there?"

Your stare looks far away, until you blink. You smile down at the student saying that you might just try it.

And, you did.

#tsukasa x reader #tsuchigomori x reader #hanako x reader #jibaku shounen hanako kun #toilet bound hanako kun #tbhk #jshk

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senju-sekhmet · 3 years

Text

The Leash (Part 10)

Summary: Your rescue was supposed to be as smooth as these missions can be. However very quickly, Tobirama faces off against an enemy that has no form, color or smell - and time is running short, very fast. Unless he figures out what truly holds you hostage, your life will be lost. Warnings (for the finished work): Blood, illness, descriptions of heavy injuries and graphic violence, torture (both depicted and implied), needles, morally grey territory, human experimentation, panic attacks, character death, angst with a happy ending ~8100 words (this chapter, finished work: 80.000) Previous: Part 1; Part 2; Part 3; Part 4; Part 5; Part 6; Part 7; Part 8; Part 9 Read on AO3! Disclaimer below the cut! again, used for updates too. sue me

DISCLAIMER! PART ONE of the finale! READ THE WARNINGS... especially the last one... Other than that: enjoy my very self indulgent work, filled with my own headcanons and angst galore. Let me know what you think and thank you so much for reading!!!! ________ The next few days became a blur. Tobirama cycled between the laboratory, your room, and the interrogation and information headquarters - just like he had been the last few days. Sleep was scarce, if he allowed himself any at all.

The pace was dictated by your condition pretty much, which did not fare any better. Quite the opposite.

Every passing turn, the interval by which they could stretch the administration of what remained of the leash diminished. You, on the other hand were paying a price that was nothing less than your sheer life force, it seemed. The amount of support they had to provide via the seals increased constantly. As time passed, they couldn’t lessen it anymore during your lucid phases, even - rather, only increase it further, step by step. A couple of seals were added when your chakra overload allowed it - as they had not been tending to your injuries from the torture anymore, they gained a little manuverability in that regard. It was not much, but you dearly needed any edge you could get. Both of your legs, arms, your abdomen, your chest were painted with medical seals that each supported your cardiovascular system, retained organs' functions, everything. There was little of your skin left unused.

It was painful to see.

“I surmise this is why the Stone did not use the withdrawal as an accessory means to put a victim under more duress,” Tobirama stated utterly caustic tone once. You’d been sedated after they had administered they leash again and both he and his brother were monitoring you while the war inside your body came to a well-known break. “Putting someone under the physical and mental strain of torture while also dealing with the effects of the withdrawal could easily kill a prisoner.” His bluntness hurt him - thinking about how you might be the one dying - but what was the point in sugar-coating anything?

Tobirama's mood was dismal, though his resolve still zealous.

“Indeed,” Hashirama agreed, slightly strained by the focus he’d been keeping up. “Frankly I’m wondering how they managed to not overload the amount of what foreign chakra Y/n could take with how they… injured her and the poor quality at which they kept healing her.” In the end, there was sorrow in his voice.

Tobirama instead felt anger overshadowing his ache. “I don’t think that ever was a concern of theirs, anjia.” In fact, Tobirama could hazard a guess as to what fate would've awaited you had they finished torturing you - had he not found you in time.

They shouldn't call it the Leash - the Noose seemed to be a better fit.

Still, chakra overload was unpleasant - uncomfortable, and to a point medically concerning, too, but lethal? Hardly. That is, if a patient was not in such a grievous state you found yourself in.

Yet the worst was your loss of vitality overall. It manifested in more agonising ways - it wasn’t as though you were becoming more haggard than you had been since the rescue - it was the way your hair lost its shine, the paleness of your skin, the tired gaze of sunken in eyes, the rasp of your voice as wheezing coughs wrecked you.

Numerous of your organs had begun to show signs of failure more and more rapidly as soon as the withdrawal settled in. Soon, they barely had enough time to recover during the times you weren’t under the effects of the withdrawal - a vicious circle Hashirama monitored closely and one Tobirama dreaded like little else in life. If the balance tilted - if your body couldn’t recuperate enough any more - then your life was all the more on the line.

Those hours - they felt the longest. He’d pace anxiously in your room, demand updates until Hashirama allowed him to join in his efforts. Or until he did politely tell him to wait. Politely.

Tobirama couldn’t remember when last he had felt so miserable in his life. He was watching you wither away in his hands, in the safest place he could think of in the entire world, due to a decision he had ultimately agreed to. Whenever he was with you the pain in his heart froze his entire being, his breathing was felt as laboured as yours and all of the world was numb besides the plight you were suffering. And he - he had allowed it. And if he hadn’t - if he hadn't… he didn't want to finish the thought, ever.

Worse yet, your consciousness began to wither more and more during the precious phases of lucidity, when the leash spared you from the hellish withdrawal. You simply were too weak to stay awake for long. But you tried. How you tried - and he knew why. For him. Your fierce spirit would keep fighting.

“How… is it going, Tobi?” you’d ask him always, your voice no more but a broken whisper.

He nearly collapsed by your side, the guilt corroding him inside out for not having accomplished his task yet. Every time his hand was under your head to stabilise it some as you looked at him; wanted to look at him - while the other held yours to his chest, stroking it tenderly. “I’m getting there, Y/n. Rest, please,” he implored you brokenly, each time, “I’m here, Y/n. I’m here.”

His heart broke when you didn’t find the strength to quip back at him like you usually would.

You just smiled bravely.

For all the agony this put him in - all the torment you went through - it only fuelled his resolve to recreate the leash. The extra time you were giving at such great expense he put to good use - and there barely was a time there weren’t some shadow clones working on refining his copy of the leash. The price he paid for this was staggering. Each time he released them, the exhaustion almost floored him. Their experience and memories were invaluable for speeding up the process infinitely - to even give him a sliver of hope to make it in time - but a few days in and Tobirama was forced to sit down before he let go of the very jutsu he devised. Practical, it was. But the toll it took on one’s body was hellish - his vision would blacken, his knees shake and he was sure he fainted a couple of times, too, for the sheer amount of concentration each of his clones had poured into the task at hand.

Yet every time Tobirama felt he was teetering on the brink of a collapse, he simply reminded himself of what was at stake here.

Hellish became a relative term, then. He paid the small price, he figured.

And there were ways and means to keep going beyond any physical signs of exhaustion. Tobirama turned to them quickly when the usage of his shadow clone technique became too taxing - various medications starting with simple caffeine to more sinister substances if taken for too long a time. He didn’t care for that risk. Sleep simply was lost time. Needed, surely. He’d catch up, eventually. Because ultimately - ultimately, this whole game would be over very soon, way too soon. Cynically he did wonder sometimes when he’d start to see white mice running up the walls, hear voices whisper or other hallucinations - but his thoughts never strayed from either creating the leash or your current condition. There was no room for anything else. And he was nothing if not focused on his task.

Kimi’s blood samples had been valuable leads in the whole process of making this damned drug. They demonstrated how his alternative had affected her - which wasn’t far off the shot when it came to the muting component of the leash. The disruption only rudimentarily resembled the real leash. Nonetheless, he felt confident with enough shadow clones - he’d continue down this path and start to weave his chakra in better and better to get where it had to be. After all, the result had been promising. Lucky for him, because it did strongly suggest no jutsu was involved in creating the leash as such. It really boiled down to the weaving process and its complexity. He wondered how long it had taken Zenji to master creating the leash.

Weaving - as such it seemed to be a process that couldn’t just create a leash but any other kind of chakra infused drug.

Interesting.

His experiments on the prisoners supported his theory about the weaving further. Progress was exponentially accelerated due to his shadow clones, and as such the intricacy of his own weaving pattern made for better results. More and more, the immediate effects of the leash were becoming comparable to the actual leash - with no small amount of satisfaction, he observed how their chakra became just as muted and sluggish as yours, longer and longer. And with the same satisfaction he meticulously examined every second of their quite painful withdrawal to compare it to your symptoms and sufferings to ensure it’d be exactly the same - the fact the prisoners didn’t just harbor the same dislike for him they did for everyone at the headquarters but rather flat out hated him was entirely beyond him. He didn’t care. They were means to achieving a goal, nothing more.

Especially Zenji used every opportunity to count down the time to what he believed would be your demise. His perception of such must be entirely broken, as he missed the mark he prophesied would be your end - much to Tobirama’s smug glee. Though he knew better than to let anything on. Bickering with this man - with any of them - was just more waste of time. He simply went in with Ikuro, sometimes one of his subordinates, to brutally administer the leash and start to observe the prisoners and take blood samples. If any of them acted up in whatever ways they could - which wasn’t much, given their restraints - they were punished, harshly. He couldn’t risk spilling these experimental drugs, either. As Tobirama’s patience wore down alongside the remaining supply of the leash - and ultimately, your life force - more jaws were broken.

Naturally, his cold, almost brutal demeanour wasn’t noticed by the prisoners only. More than once Ikuro had to call him off for pushing the limit on what a subject could take - or disagree on continuing interrogation. Things Tobirama mentally rolled his eyes at but never spoke up against save for curt affirmations past his clenched teeth. Ikuro would be well within his rights to stop his proceedings altogether - or worse, report to Hashirama. It was a silent understanding that if the experiments became too dangerous, Tobirama had to stop and provide medical aid to the stone shinobi. As much as he hated it. He had to make better progress. You were paying the worst price.

Unfortunately the leash’s creation proved to be about the best guarded secret of Zenji’s mind - and with how he was biding his time, he was extremely determined to last longer than Tobirama, or rather, you. They gleaned all kinds of information not just from him, but also the other prisoners - the better Tobirama became at replicating the leash, the more effective the interrogation was. He surmised there may be even more complex machinations at work in how this drug worked in a person’s mind, but he had no proof of this, only theories. Not that he cared - it didn’t matter right now. Still, Zenji remained the toughest fortress; he’d die before cracking. Although Ikuro did appear to be more lax when it came to torturing and experimenting on him; Tobirama was not.

Just like Zenji, Kimi was refusing to surrender what little she knew of the leash, no matter how extreme the pressure. Two of their compatriots had cracked while under the effects of Tobirama’s leash-copy, a victory he did not celebrate at all. It was useless unless Zenji broke or he perfected the recreation of the leash. Anything else would result in your death. Still, it was one of the rare occasions he allowed himself a moment of smugness in front of Zenji.

No more than a sneer did Tobirama give him.

Zenji was fuming. “You think you’re so fucking clever-” he spat.

Tobirama raised an eyebrow and cut him off coolly. “I am. Despite your assertions, I am getting closer to recreating this precious leash of yours every day. And after that, you will be useless, given how your fellow shinobi keep cracking.” The last bit was spoken as darkly as he meant it to be.

Zenji bared his teeth - but not out of anger. He was grinning. “I’m sticking to my word, Senju - I will relish telling you the secret once Y/n died one of the most painful deaths imaginable while you sat by.”

Tobirama knew better than to let the ire that was flooding him show. Zenji’s jaw was barely healing.

Well, there were other bones to break, though.

“You might get closer to creating the leash, but you won’t succeed, and I’d give my damn life to see the helpless look on your face when Y/n takes her last, tormented breath, whispering your name in sheer agony as life-”

Tobirama’s arm shot forward before he could think. But he knew better than to punch the prisoner again. His vice grip had seized the broken jaw, nails digging into his cheeks to prevent so much as a scream coming out. Only a slow moan of pain. His scarlet gaze was murderous. “Actually, your pathetic life hangs on Y/n’s survival, Zenji. Do you realise that, you very, very clever man?”, Tobirama explained, frightfully calm.

Zenji stilled completely.

“I care not for something petty like revenge or your fate ultimately,” he continued icily, “but Konoha does not need to feed mouths that are useless to us nor send them back to the enemy to use them against us again. I think you can figure the rest out.” He released him as brutally as he could, turning on his heel. He had to leave before he did more to this man.

Zenji stopped shouting at Tobirama after this.

Even so, Zenji’s words had not rung hollow. As much progress he made when it came to the weaving process, permanence of the effects would not be attained. The more time - really, each passing hour - pressed him, the more desperate he became to solve this riddle - this seemingly last riddle stopping him from creating the perfect copy of the leash.

It was after yet another quite fruitful session of experimentation that he -

“Damn it!”, he shouted, smashing his balled fist on the lab bench after analysing the yield of the day thoroughly. The woven pattern was swirling brightly like it would in the leash, the complexity well fit the real drug and the experiments were showing promising results.

However… “It’s not a damn leash yet-” he breathed through his clenched teeth, swaying back, vision tunneling. He gripped the edge of the table just in time before he lost his foothold. The exhaustion from releasing his clones before had struck viciously again.

Hitting inanimate objects out of frustration was one thing. Talking to himself another. He dragged both palms over his face. By his current calculations, they had about sixty hours left.

Sixty hours, then they’d be out of leash and your time was cut very short.

Ice flooded his veins and his vision blackened completely briefly.

It couldn’t be helped. He needed a jutsu - or a seal - to perfect the leash. At this point - with this little time left - his previous evaluation of such a technique being an obstacle he'd scale easily compared to what he had done so far seemed quite daring. In fact, how could he have thought anything about this was going to be easy? Even when he had already guessed he’d need this, sooner or later.

Ultimately he started to divide his shadow clone force between perfecting the weaving process and starting to figure a seal out to make the effects last - rather, the disruption. Since the muting component did wear off at a comparable time in his own creations now, it was a fair assumption no technique sealed this effect in. And the way the disruption almost branded itself into a victim’s blood - that was all the more telltale. But how to create a seal that worked in a liquid? Back when he initially assumed such a seal to be of inferior quality due to a lack of external evidence, he automatically assumed it should be simple to create one himself. Now, it almost felt like starting over again - like when he was weaving the second component in. A seal that did not just ensure permanence of the effects but rather only concern a single effect - ridiculous. Somberly he realised actually back then, he simply had not grasped the complexity of all this fully to make such an assumption in the first place.

More guilt to burden him, ultimately.

Just as he feared, initial tests proved to be difficult in the way a seal damaged the delicate weave of his chakra in the base liquid. He quickly discarded the approach in favour of starting from scratch - if only the disruption stuck, then it was quite possible a seal was applied before the second component got woven in. That worked better - slightly, if just for the fact the substance was less intricate like this and a seal was simpler to apply like this. Even so, Tobirama could think of a handful of seals to preserve chakra in some capacity. He’d have to take a logical approach: given there had been no outward sign of a seal being used, it must be a simpler one. Furthermore, he knew from your blood samples the way the drug didn’t just cling but nearly branded itself to you; therefore there must be a way for the seal to interact with the victim’s organism as well. That seemed doable; seals followed the rules the user created. Like a string of orders. He felt confident in his skill to pull it off - if it wasn’t for the fact he was trying to place a seal in a liquid substance right now. A seal on a parchment, sure. Medical jutsu that required seals, absolutely. Seals in combat, too - but in a liquid?

He had no time to dwell on whether or how that was possible. Once more his shadow clones would aid him in trying out different approaches: applying seals to the vial first, weaving the disrupting component in and then trying to seal it off, or even trying to weave in a seal alongside the disruption. The last of the approaches appeared to be more fruitful than the others truth be told, but the more effort he gave it, the less the tender fabric of the drug tore apart for it in either one. The leash really was about patience, a knack for handling very fragile threads of chakra and a lot of concentration. None of which Tobirama could claim he had in great quantity right now. By the end of this session releasing his clones resulted in him losing consciousness for a solid thirty minutes. When he woke, he had a headache as though someone drilled a hole into his skull.

Naturally that didn’t stop him. All three of his experiments were tested right away and despite Ikuro’s concerns to not divide Tobirama’s attention between three prisoners, the man enforced his will by ultimately reminding everyone of the ticking clock. Each passing second made him more desperate and the life of a Stone shinobi less valuable. Even if he lost all three. He still had three more.

“They still hold information we have not yet cracked,” Ikuro warned sternly.

“Testing each of these one after the other is going to cost hours that Y/n doesn’t have,” Tobirama spat back, unfazed. “I’m here, I can use a shadow clone to divide my attention if need be,” he elaborately nonchalantly.

Ikuro crossed his arms. “That’s not the same.”

Tobirama growled exasperatedly. He wasn’t about to explain his own damn jutsu to Ikuro now. “I assure you, it is. Let’s use the broken prisoners, they’ve lost value, if that eases your concern.” The coldness of his tone made clear what he was implying.

Unsurprisingly, Ikuro wasn’t taken aback by his lack of regard for human life. His job demanded a certain detachment from just that, Tobirama figured. “Alright.” Even though Ikuro still didn’t seem quite sold on Tobirama’s plan. The life of a Konoha shinobi still bore greater weight than that of Stone prisoners.

At the end of that day, Tobirama realised his intuition had been right: the test subject with the third method showed a prolonged phase of withdrawal, serious symptoms - serious enough to warrant medical observation that Tobirama left to the unit with clear instructions. He didn’t have time now. Sadly the seal’s permanence was not on par with the leash’s yet - the withdrawal had been fading, too.

But this - all this, it was the right direction. He knew it. If he gave his all into his and worked with the time he had left, he felt he could reach this insane goal of recreating this drug.

Following the experiments, he sat by your side that evening while you were allowed a short moment of simple sleep. No withdrawal, no terrors under the effects of the leash. He dared to feel a sliver of hope. No more. Gently, his hand stroked your forearm as his heart ached from watching you. You’d open your eyes briefly and recognition flashed in your gaze - he simply let his chakra coat your network in a warm embrace. Stiffness eased out from his shoulders as his eyes prickled again.

“I’m getting there, Y/n,” he simply whispered, tenderly.

You gave no reply or notion of having gotten the message. His heart hurt more for it.

Of course he already had a handful of clones working on the approach before he left for your side to join them in the endeavour.

The final race began after that. Using as many clones as he possibly could, he started to create the leash - really create it, not just parts of it, practicing weaving or trying seals out. This was it - he would need to perfect this procedure until an immaculate result in a prisoner was achieved. Once he tethered one of them to the leash, he knew he had succeeded and could make more for you. The proverbial light at the end of this hellish tunnel kicked his system more into overdrive than any substance he could take to keep himself on track. It was a real high, almost.

Hashirama tried to get him to rest once he caught wind of the fervor with which he worked.

“You’re doing what?!”, his brother near shouted, horrified.

Tobirama rolled his eyes. He didn’t have time for this. “Get out of here and back to Y/n,” he ordered sternly, not even looking back at his brother, standing in the door of the makeshift laboratory.

Hashirama’s footsteps drew closer, a hand on Tobirama’s shoulder had him whip around with unconcealed fury. “What.” Tobirama’s voice was an infuriated growl through clenched teeth. A warning everyone heeded. Except his brother, of course.

Hashirama didn’t pull his figurative punches now. “You’re using way too many shadow clones, you’re not sleeping and is-” he pointed on the lab bench, eyes wide now as he recognized the substances Tobirama had been taking, “-is that-”

“You worry about your work, and leave me to mine, anija!” Tobirama shouted back with unbridled ire, seizing his brother by the shoulders to start shoving him out.

Sadly, he was determined to stand his ground, swatting the hands away. “Sure, destroy yourself so the first thing Y/n can do after recovering is mourn you!” His dark eyes were ablaze now. Even for a non-sensor shinobi, the magnificent aura of his riled up chakra was easy to pick up on. For Tobirama’s senses, it was suffocating, like staring into the sun. The overload just fueled his anger more.

“Get. Out.” The heat was gone from his voice. It was a threat now.

Hashirama held Tobirama’s scarlet gaze for far longer than anyone else did. Wordlessly, he summoned a wood clone. “I’ll watch you. You’re not going to kill yourself, brother.” Then, he turned on his heels to leave the laboratory.

Tobirama was floored for a moment. How dare he. Then, he proverbially exploded as the fury burned so bright inside of him, it was painful. “You will do no such thing!” He yelled after his brother, following with swift stomps. “Take your damn babysitter with you, I don’t need one!”

Hashirama all but ignored him and simply kept on walking down the corridor. Tobirama rushed back to the laboratory where his clones were still at work to eye his brother’s wood clone with sheer antipathy. Briefly, he contemplated destroying it - but ultimately decided against that just for the fact that might break anything precious in the laboratory.

That meant he just had to conceal his exhaustion better now. And no more help from additional medication.

The rush to the finish line of the gruelling race was just as Tobirama had expected it. He didn’t measure time in days anymore but hours you had left. Your condition kept on worsening and ultimately, Hashirama decided they no longer could risk you going into withdrawal at all. That cut back the time slightly, but not much. Enough for Tobirama to not even feel the slightest bit of exhaustion anymore. Frankly during his work he was nothing but sharply focused. It was when he was by your side the emotions boiled up - the ache that teared at his heart, the suffocating sensation of sorrow, guilt. Overburdening protection paired with crushing worry. Your sheer will had bought them necessary time, he’d just make it work now. It was all he could do.

But now, even in what should be your rest - the precious hours in which you may wake - you barely opened your eyes anymore. They were forced to amp the seals up to a maximum of support to deal with the backlash of all the times you had suffered from the withdrawal, and either Hashirama or Tobirama constantly found themselves at your side to ensure your condition didn’t worsen. Every bit of additional chakra your strained system could take went into stabilizing you further from the inside. It was an extremely fragile balance they upheld - but the truth was, in the Stone shinobi’s hands your body had suffered grievous, outward wounds and now your inside was just as impacted by everything it had gone through.

Your path to recovery would be an arduous one. One Tobirama did not doubt one second you’d walk strongly and gracefully, one on which he’d not leave your side, at all. He still felt tremendous guilt for everything they - he - had been forced to do to you, everything you went through under his watch. Even now, what little time he spent monitoring you, examining your condition, he never let the warm connection fade - hoping you might at least feel that.

That you weren't alone.

Progress on the leash was as exponential as expected. His shadow clones and his own vigour ensured as much. Over and over he perfected the results he produced. Time would not allow for lengthier tests anymore as the better his craft became, the longer a test subject suffered from the effects of his leash. He had to cycle through the prisoners who barely caught a break now, not that he cared, of course. But every experiment needed to start from a fresh slate, otherwise the result might be muddled. What he could do in the laboratory was to compare his own substance with the actual leash - which he did with unmatched diligence. Once a confusing swirl of chakra, intricate and impossible to pick apart easily, he now saw structure in it. With the experience of not just himself but many copies of himself, he now was sure: learning to create the leash might take months, if not years.

When your hours were down to a single digit, he was unable to find a difference between his version of the leash and the actual drug.

An eerie kind of excitement gripped him. His head spun dizzily from it. Had he done it? Was this it?

Only one way to find out. And no time to waste. They had just a single dose of the leash left to give to you.

Tobirama turned to what he sarcastically dubbed his babysitter. “Tell my brother with luck, I’m off to the interrogation headquarters for the last time.”

The last time he slept was forty-one hours ago. Involuntarily, at that. Overwhelmed by releasing the shadow clone jutsu, as it was.

The wood clone nodded and turned to leave.

Tobirama used his hiraishin seal to teleport to the interrogation headquarters after slipping the vial into his pocket - he had placed a branded piece of parchment there days ago. Another way to save time.

He headed straight for Ikuro’s office. By now the members of the interrogation unit knew when not to stand in his way - it was the kind of thoughtfulness he appreciated, even though he never uttered a word to that regard. Given the time of the day, early morning, Ikuro was behind the desk. Tobirama didn’t even knock but tore the door open.

“We need to start another test now.”

Ikuro glanced up from the document he was reading. By now he knew not to expect ‘good morning’ from him anymore or other pleasantries. Still, this was quite straightforward even for Tobirama’s standards. “You’ve been here last night,” he replied evenly, raising an eyebrow.

“And I’ve made progress since then. I have reason to believe I’ve done it.” Finally.

That elicited a whistle of surprise even from Ikuro, who seldom did more than smile slightly at whatever was tossed in his direction. But a frown followed. “I don’t need to tell you that-”

Tobirama slammed his palm on the table a huffed through clenched teeth. “I know and we don’t have any time left,” he hissed, borderline desperate now. The fact this would be his last shot before you - he refused to finish the thought.

Ikuro’s mien was stony, but he rose to his feet. “Kimi should be most recovered.”

He followed silently down into the holding block. Whatever gazes he might have felt upon him he either was accustomed to or forgotten. Except for Zenji’s stare. The damn, knowing stare. He never looked more than a spare second into his eyes.

Upon unlocking Kimi’s door, the woman’s head raised up slowly to muster her new company with contempt. The last days had left traces on all the prisoners. Like her compatriots, even the mental bulwark of seeming sheer insanity was showing cracks. Kimi had dark rings under her eyes and the proverbial paint was flaking off. “Is Y/n not fucking dead yet?”, she commented lazily, gaze settling on the vial in Tobirama’s grasp. They had long passed the stage of feigned pleasantries, inquiries about your wellbeing, or even Ikuro behaving like a friend towards her.

All of this had become a well practiced ritual the prisoners knew better than to resist. In a way, they had broken them all in that regard.

Ikuro seized the back of her head already and gave Tobirama a nod.

Kimi’s nostrils flared. “Can’t be much longer now. Y’still gonna keep trying to make the leash after she’s dead, by the way?”, she spat, fighting against the vice hold of the interrogation master.

Tobirama walked closer slowly, expression steely. As cold as he felt inside. He always did when he was down here - these people were barely human to him, anymore. Threats like Kimi’s were their favourite to make. He knew better than to react. His hand shot forward to grasp her jaw - her resistance was notably weaker than it had been a few days ago.

Good.

Easily, his hand could coax her jaw forward to open her mouth and pour only a small portion of the vial in. Ikuro shot him a questioning glance. “I’ll explain later.” Tobirama answered gruffly as he secured her throat to prevent her from spitting anything back at them. She gagged briefly, prompting Tobirama to up the pressure until she swallowed.

“Fuck you,” she spat, but her pupils dilated already.

Ikuro closed his eyes to get to work. Tobirama monitored the effect of his leash unfolding briefly and with no small amount of satisfaction. The muting component hammered Kimi’s chakra network just like yours had been. His heart beat faster. Swiftly he withdrew to take a first blood sample of the initial effect and continued to monitor Kimi, who had surrendered to the torture silently by now. Unusual. Most of the time, she found ways to spew colorful insults at either him or Ikuro.

Interesting.

The rest of the experiment proceeded just as perfectly. Tobirama felt near dizzy from the nervousness that gripped him and he was surprised to find he wasn’t shaking from excitement when the withdrawal began to hit the stone shinobi as the muting component wore off - sooner than usual, thanks to the smaller dosage, but it still took quite a while. Ikuro wasn’t finished with the mental interrogation yet, but a frown wrinkled his forehead.

“She’s becoming weaker,” he noted.

“I know. Keep on going.” Hell, they might even crack her now with the added pressure. After all, Tobirama was painfully well-versed in dealing with withdrawal effects, and Kimi’s body was not suffering from chakra overloading at all.

The shift in the dynamic hadn’t escaped Kimi, either. Restlessness was gripping her. “This doesn’t change anything,” she pressed out, breathing laboured. Her forehead was covered in a fine layer of sweat. It wouldn’t be long now until the withdrawal will become painful.

Tobirama ignored her and gripped her throat tighter as he examined more closely. If the disruption didn’t fade he -

“It doesn’t change-,” Kimi choked out again, against the vice grip he held her in. “-fucking anything!” Her voice had become a fine sneer in the end.

Tobirama opened his eyes to find the prisoner grinning, staring at the ceiling with a hollow glance. That didn’t sit well with him. Kimi knew more about the leash - knowledge they hadn’t yet gotten out of her.

They’d still proceed now. No turning back.

More time passed. She shouted out again a couple times, more slurred than the other before a tremor gripped her body and the words became gargled moans of pain. Inflammation began to kindle inside of her in an awfully familiar way. The disruption was starting to wreak havoc inside of her. Time for the next blood sample, which Tobirama took swiftly.

“Her mind is becoming fragmented, Tobirama,” Ikuro warned, pale eyes opening. That wasn’t good. He wouldn’t continue like this.

“I’ll stabilise her. I need to know if this fades or not,” he answered tersely, blood rushing in his ears. If it didn’t fade - then he’d -

One step after the other. Carefully he let his chakra strengthen each of Kimi’s organs somewhat, only enough to keep her going. The tormented groans subsided if just slightly, and Ikuro closed his eyes again as the haze that surrounded Kimi’s mind became thicker again. So close. They were so close.

Relief did not last long for her. Very soon, the prisoner was deteriorating again.

Tobirama almost shouted from the utter relief he felt. It could only mean one thing. His heart beat so frantically it might as well jump out of his chest at this point.

Ikuro gave him a stern reminder to watch for Kimi again, but Tobirama’s hand had seized the spasming jaw of the prisoner already. Silently, Ikuro watched as he poured the rest of the vial in only to directly continue monitoring her again.

The disruption subsided swiftly as her chakra network became near mute again. Kimi stilled completely, raising her head slowly to let out a drawn-out groan. Her gaze fixated Tobirama, pupils blown wide. There was recognition in it, but in a deranged, wild way - akin to an animal rather than a human person.

Tobirama's scarlet gaze was ablaze, his eyes widened. A low, utterly satisfied growl resounded through the cell - "Yes," he muttered, entirely absorbed in his examination.

Her reply hit like a kick to the gut.

“The leash is tied to a person… and the hand that holds it.”

Right after, her body went limp again as she surrendered to the psychotropic effects of the drug.

Tobirama took a step back, reeling. The blood still rushed in his ears and the elation had cracked like glass that had been put under too much strain. What the hell was that supposed to mean? What was it now? What else did he possibly have to think of? The experiment's result was perfect.

By all means, this woman was tied to the leash now, the leash Tobirama had created.

He just had to make more of it now - you’d be safe and he could work on a cure. But why was he feeling like his breath had been stolen from him? As though he had run the mile, won the race and yet still had to keep running, or else? His hands trembled slightly as he kept staring down the limp prisoner.

Ikuro cleared his throat. “That’s enough for today. Follow me, Tobirama.” His voice sounded urgent. Startled, Tobirama’s eyes widened slightly, he nodded only.

As they passed Zenji’s cell, the man stirred. “So,” he called out, chains clinking as he threw his body against them. “You made it? Tied Kimi to the leash?” His tone was about as icy as one might get.

Tobirama stopped in front of the cell to give him a lethal glare, all nervousness subsiding in favour of sheer fury. Ikuro stopped as well, giving Tobirama a warning glance.

“I won,” he sneered back, eyes narrow. “As I said, I recreated that little tool of yours.” His voice was dripping with caustic arrogance.

Zenji attempted a grin that looked crooked by how swollen his face still was. “I wonder about that.”

Icy dread was pooling inside of Tobirama faster than he could control it. His mien turned stony as he tried to just not rush in and break Zenji’s jaw again for his insolence. And yet the words were haunting him. Just like Kimi’s had. “You had better start thinking about another way to appear useful to us.”

Without allowing another word from the prisoner, he walked towards Ikuro, heading for the office. Surprisingly, Ikuro shut the door as soon as they were inside.

The burly man cut straight to the chase. “Kimi’s mental defenses were extremely low today,” he began. Tobirama’s heartbeat picked up again. Ikuro frowned. “I was able to glance at her knowledge about the leash. Perhaps she wanted me to, I don’t know.”

“What did you learn?”, Tobirama snapped back before he even realised what words his brain had chosen. His tone wasn’t just stern - it was commanding.

“The Stone’s interrogators use the leash frequently.” Nothing new there, Tobirama figured. With how much effort that went into this drug. He was ready to ask for more information, but Ikuro beat him to it. “However, it seems once the leash is administered to a prisoner, they always receive it from the same creator, or one of his students.” Ikuro’s frown deepened.

The realisation hit Tobirama before he could coherently process the words. The dread that had formed earlier spiralled out into every vein of his body, an ice cold shiver ran down his spine. No, he had not come this far to learn this - all this-

“What does that mean?”, Ikuro inquired when Tobirama gave no answer.

He turned around slowly to put his hands against the doorframe, taking deep breaths now. His head was swimming. This information - all he knew about the leash - it was already pooling into his mind to form a muddied mess that wouldn’t produce a coherent thought.

His breaths were raspy and short. Finally, he swallowed against the lump in his throat. He didn’t want to speak about this. He had to return to the lab. Now.

“It means Zenji might be the only one able to create the leash for Y/n,” he answered, voice dead.

_______

He had precious little time left until you needed the last dose of the leash. After that, your lifespan was down to a mere few hours. Tobirama’s heartbeat never slowed down as he arrived in the laboratory, his shaking hands placing Kimi’s recent blood samples in the rack containing a great variety of vials now. His vision was tunneling.

Only one shot.

Kimi’s statement - Zenji’s following it - and Ikuro’s information pointed towards one thing: the creation of the leash and the following interaction with the victim’s body was such a complex reaction that it didn’t allow for a different torturer’s leash to be administered to the same victim. Why was that? Tobirama could easily guess. With how much time he had spent weaving this damned drug all the little intricacies, the finicky process, it was easy to think there might be different ways to create it. Different patterns. The leash demanded repeated doses of the same drug for the disruption to be muted by the muting component - they were woven together like threads of fabric. A different pattern would not fit. That much his experiments had ascertained, too.

Lucky for him - for you - he had stuck closely to Zenji’s sample and while primarily trying to imitate the effects of the drug, he had unintentionally copied the weaving pattern of the man himself. That much he was sure of - he had analysed his version and Zenji’s, finding no difference.

Did that mean Kimi and Zenji just thought Tobirama had - somehow - found out how to weave the leash differently? It was a possibility.

He grabbed the blood sample that contained Kimi’s blood right after administration of Tobirama’s leash. Closing his eyes, he began to examine it in great detail. The drug had spread through it hazily, coating it thickly - clogging and fuzzy. Just like it had been in you. No, exactly like it had been in you.

A first wave of relief washed through him. There was no doubt about it - had someone placed a vial of your blood under the initial effect of the leash in front of him and that of a prisoner under his own, he could only tell the difference by the innate chakra signature every body part carried, available to his fine sensor skills only. Otherwise, this was the same.

His body vibrated with tense energy, teetering on the fine edge between nervousness and sheer panic. Things he’d never show to anyone. But in the privacy of this lab - his hand shook, his heart was jumping out of his chest.

Now to the second sample.

He clasped Kimi’s blood sample tightly and shut his eyes again. Examining closer and closer, the disruptive component became obvious - the sharp edges of the chakra that had coated the blood’s cells, scathing as they went, damaging, scratching. Just like in Zenji’s leash. That, also was to be expected - after all, he had tailored the effect as per the example he had been given.

Then why did he feel on edge? Why was time still running out? Something - something -

He took an even closer look.

And almost dropped the vial when it struck him.

“It’s the seal,” he muttered, shock and frustration fighting inside him as he felt as though he was bursting inside. The way his leash had near branded itself to Kimi’s blood - it was different, in such insignificant and tiny ways, Tobirama would’ve overlooked it. Were it not for the damned comment the lunatic witch had made, the information Ikuro had gleaned - there was no question about it. Zenji must use a slightly different sealing technique in his own version of the leash.

What would happen if he administered his own leash to you now?

Tobirama groaned painfully, rubbing a palm over his face.

This is a nightmare. It can’t be. You only had little time left until the next - the last dose of the leash. And he had no idea how to even figure out how Zenji sealed the disrupting component of his leash.

His breaths were coming faster now and the tightness in his chest became painful - so painful he clutched the black fabric of his shirt, wheezing. Closing his eyes, his other hand reached for the edge of the laboratory bench for support as his knees shook. Distantly, he realised what the panic attack for what it was, now. Logically, he recognized it. While all the same he figured he did not have time for this.

He had to work now. He had to try - to try and do - do something-

“Damn it,” he panted. His breaths were coming in abruptly, rashly.

His vision tunneled.

He had no time- He had to work- This wasn’t-

Darkness crept from his peripheral reception into the center and Tobirama closed his eyes to force his breaths to slow down. Weakness. This was nothing but temporary weakness he had to overcome swiftly.

By sheer willforce only quite possibly, he was riding the anguishing sensations out slowly before his body would obey him again.

Then, he grabbed the precious tiny sample of Zenji’s leash and did the only thing that came to mind: to try and dissect it for any clues. Anything at all that might tell him how Zenji sealed off his leash - anything for Tobirama to guess at the process to copy it. He began the procedure much like he’d perform an autopsy on a cadaver: from the outside to the inside. Peeling off layer after layer, removing bits and then cutting them apart into tinier pieces to examine them more closely. Systematically - thanks to his extended knowledge about the leash, there was some of that to his approach here. Of course the leash didn’t have organs like a body did, however since he knew how it was woven, he was able to trace it back this way, sort of.

Zenji’s seal was woven into the disruptive component like Tobirama’s was, intertwined in an intricate fashion he frantically sought to unravel.

But try as he might - it was impossible. Since there was no ink work - no physical trace of the seal left save for the chakra threads alongside the disruptive component - there just was no telling just how his sealing technique might be working. Tobirama knew this.

He knew - he knew it simply was not possible.

Yet he kept on looking, searching for any clue - until the last bit of the tiny sample was entirely dissected.

And he was left empty handed.

His heart stopped for a moment and ice-cold shock burst in his chest.

Was this it, now? Had he come this far to surrender to this damn detail? He closed his eyes slowly as breaths came in faster and faster again, more ragged each time. The world was frozen. Time stood still for a moment as his mind raced faster into nowhere, while his heart, his heart knew well enough there was nothing left.

Crushing sorrow followed the shock, his lip quivered. Wetness formed under his lids and quelled down his cheeks.

“Fuck!”, he shouted - no, roared as he smashed the vial containing the useless sample of the leash against the wall.

“Fuck, fuck, -” he kept yelling the profanity over and over as if that brought any relief, his hands in his white hair, pulling. He didn’t feel any physical pain - he felt nothing except for overwhelming despair that filled every crack of his mind and emotional pain too great to put into words yet his heart was being torn into two.

He’d lose you - you, the only person he’d ever entrust that silly organ to.

He had promised you -

After all he’d done -

Limply, he sunk down with his back against a wall of the laboratory, having no idea how he had gotten there. Tears were streaming down his face freely now, he didn’t even make any effort to wipe them off or reign in any feeling anymore. It was all too much. Wheezing and sobbing he sat there for who knows how long - letting desperation and grief crush him like metal between hammer and anvil. Jaw taut as he clenched his teeth, eyes hidden under his palm - he couldn’t move. He didn’t want to.

He had failed you.

And now you’d die. ______ the story isn’t over yet! but i reckon I should be hanged for this cliffhanger. STAY WITH ME THOUGH OKAY!!

#tobirama #tobirama senju #tobirama x reader #tobirama senju x reader #sekhmet writes

31 notes · View notes

bcbdrums · 3 years

Text

Victory

For a fellow Drakgo fan, it’s @dawhitebag‘s birthday tomorrow! Happy birthday!!!

Inspired by three pieces of their art: 1, 2, and 3

Read on other sites: FFn AO3

Enjoy “Victory,” a tiny AU ending to So the Drama.

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

On the computer screen: destruction. Outside the building, a timely lightning storm that would have made any super-villain envious. And inside, standing before the screen, the mad scientist's head was thrown back in maniacal laughter.

Shego watched from the back of the room as henchmen seated at rows of computer consoles maintained careful control of the Li'l Diablos—Drakken's (finally) successful robots that had been his means of taking over the world. The big screen was cycling between news feeds from cities of various nations where armed forces were useless against Drakken's—for once—brilliant plan.

Or had they all been brilliant, and she had just never seen it before? In most every one of his previous plans, she had been over his shoulder, mocking him all the way. This time he had kept everything secret from her. He had said it was to make sure Kim Possible wouldn't discover it, but she wondered now... Had he shut her out so he could actually succeed?

She looked at Drakken's back, and the way he stood taller and prouder than she'd ever seen him. Hands on his hips as the well-tailored suit made clear the fact that the person who usually skulked in an over-sized blue lab coat was in fact a man, and one she realized she was spending more and more of her thoughts on. He turned then, and she noticed how the electric blue of the suit seemed to make his skin and eyes less corpse-like and more vibrant.

He was grinning at her, but not with the chaotic abandon she'd expected. Yes, his eyes held fire and glee, but there was also a knowing within the dark depths as he stared at her, and a desire to know. It sent her heart racing, and she instinctively straightened up from where she was leaned back against the wall. Usually when she let her thoughts stray from the professional to the impossible, it was he who fell uncomfortable under her gaze. But there was something different in his eyes; he had never looked at her that way before.

"Go get changed."

"E-Excuse me?" she answered with unexpected fluster.

"You should be on my level when we make our announcement about ruling the world," he said, gesturing broadly to his suit.

Her eyes widened. "We...?"

"Yes of course...unless... You don't want to make the announcement with me?"

He looked worried for the first time in days, and Shego quickly pushed off the wall and turned to go find something less side-kick and more...co-ruler of the world? Was that what he was saying?

"Give me a minute, I'll be right back."

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

Drakken replayed the image of Shego's retreating back with unease as his nerve-endings were tingling with a slow build of anxiety. He stared at the images on the computer screen, all revealing his triumph in explosive detail. He had hoped to impress her... He had hoped that taking over the world would show her he was more than he appeared, and certainly more than the losers she kept dating.

Recently she had acted more friendly toward him. She had even taken him up on an offer to get revenge against one of the gorillas who had dumped her. Evil bonding was a good secret first date, he had thought. And while she had certainly enjoyed it, and even seemed to enjoy his company...nothing changed beyond that.

He knew world domination was the only way to be worthy of her. But...he had succeeded, and she had yet to say a word about it. Would she reject the offer he was going to make her, of ruling the world together...? It was extremely risky, he knew, but over the past several months as he plotted and schemed, impressing her always at the front of his mind, he had come to realize... Shego was his world. He didn't want to do it without her.

The soft sound of Shego clearing her throat caused him to whirl around, and then his brow rose. She was dressed in the blouse and skirt set modeled after her costume that she had worn when they'd gone to see Brotherson at the Bermuda Triangle. And...she might have done something to her makeup, because her eyes were somehow more vibrant, and her hair was as luxurious as ever.

"This good?" she asked off-handedly, glancing down at the claws of her glove.

"Yes," he said, swallowing a lump in his throat and then clearing it. He hadn't expected her to wear...that, or anything so alluring and feminine. He tried to put back on his usual airs as he beckoned her forward with a small jerk of his head. "Perfect."

Shego seemed to hold her breath before moving, releasing it only when the clack of her heeled boots started eliminated the distance between them.

"Dunno why you need me for this," she said nonchalantly.

Drakken realized he was holding his breath too.

"I thought...you might enjoy more of a...leading role, now. Now that there's no reason to hide things anymore," he quickly justified his statement.

Shego looked up at him with a raised brow. "You mean...co-ruler?"

Drakken bit the inside of his cheek. He selfishly wanted to rule the world alone, but...this might be his only chance.

"I can think of none better," he said, holding his hand out to her not to shake, but palm up and open. He was glad for his gloves to hide his skin's clamminess.

Shego looked between his face and his hand. There was something unspoken in her eyes that made him nervous, and her too apparently as she glanced away to the brightness of the destruction still displayed on screen.

Her silence was causing his anxiety to rise and he rushed to fill it.

"We can...work out the details later."

Shego looked back at his hand, and then up into his eyes. He held her gaze, despite wanting to look away and make excuses for what he was saying. He was expecting the usual sarcastic quip or question of doubt, but instead she simply stared at him. She had never done that before, and he wanted to escape her verdant gaze as much as he longed to fall into it.

She slowly lifted her hand and set her gloved fingertips in his palm, her cheeks coloring as she did so. His lips parted in a silent gasp as her eyes suddenly filled with uncertainty at the same time she rose up on her toes.

Lightning flashed outside, and the next moment was a blur as her other hand was somehow resting on his shoulder and his other inexplicably on the bare flesh at her waist. He saw the flutter of her eyelashes just before her eyes closed, and then her lips pressed softly against his.

The moment was broken far too quickly as he became aware of more things: the orange reflective glow from the explosions on screen, the sudden silence in the room but for the storm outside as the henchmen all stared at them, and the way Shego's hand tightly gripped his.

When she pulled back from the too-brief glimpse into heaven, her eyes were worried and questioning. But not regretful. Drakken released his breath as he gripped her hand in return, a smile of unbridled joy blooming across his face that he couldn't have held back if he wanted to. Her expression changed to one of relief, hope, and excitement, and as he lifted his other hand from her waist to put behind her head and draw her back to the intimate moment, an answering smile filled her face.

The instant before their lips met they were startled from the moment by a resounding cheer, and they both turned to see the entire room of henchmen on their feet, applauding and shouting and a few even exchanging money over bets won and lost no doubt. Drakken ran his hand over his hair sheepishly, but the feel of Shego's hand looping through his arm drew his focus back to her and where she was smiling up at him, trying to maintain her usual air of confidence through the shy joy that had filled her eyes.

"Shego..." He wasn't sure what else he would have said, but the awed breathing of her name was all he could manage.

She cleared her throat, though it didn't do anything to mask the blush in her cheeks.

"Ruling the world?" she said softly.

Drakken blinked. "Right... Jameson!" he bellowed for the henchman, "Get ready for the broadcast!"

Drakken and Shego turned to face the computer screen that changed to show their image. He was startled by what he saw, as he had only ever seen it in his dreams before: Shego on his arm, her confidence, beauty, and intelligence...devoted to him.

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

Shego looked at Drakken's eyes through the video monitor where his assurance suddenly seemed to have faltered. Her heart was still racing from the impulsive kiss, but she couldn't have agreed to rule the world with him without knowing. But suddenly, something seemed to have changed.

"Dr. D.?" she asked softly, her fingers tightening on his arm in what she hoped was reassurance.

He blinked a few times and then looked down, anxiety rapidly joining the happiness in his eyes. His jaw worked for a moment before one word finally slipped out.

"Me...?"

Shego grinned. "Yes. You."

He seemed to calm, but then his brow furrowed. She cut him off before he could continue.

"Why me?" Drakken's brow rose in response. And again, she cut him off. "Probably similar reasons?"

Drakken considered, and Shego decided in a split-second to let her own remaining uncertainty show.

"We can...talk about all of it later. As long as you're sure...?"

Drakken grabbed her hand on his arm and held it tight, nodding firmly.

"Yes. I'm sure."

The laser-focus in his eyes was all the assurance she needed, and as her expression melted back to happiness she watched his shift into the same.

"So..." she sighed as she felt her nerves finally begin to calm, "talk later... But right now, I believe we have a broadcast to make?"

Drakken straightened, and his broad grin of victory returned.

"Yes," he said firmly, "we do."

Shego mirrored his devilish look as they faced the screen again, taking just a moment to survey the image that met them once more. Side by side, and arm in arm... She honestly wondered what had taken them so long.

Drakken turned and nodded at the henchman waiting to begin the live broadcast to the world that they now owned. He turned back and gave Shego that same knowing grin that had spurred her to action. She returned it in kind.

"Let's do it!"

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luvidzy · 4 years

Text

☆ genre: fluff

☆ pairing: han jisung x reader

☆ summary: you are han jisung’s stylist. you decide to tell him some stories.

☆ word count: 1.7k

☆ listen to: sweet talk by saint motel

You smiled as you tied your hair up and pulled on your apron. You loved your job, despite the demanding schedule and the sometimes impossible standards. Make-up was your passion and you loved the boys who you worked with. It also helped that you were being paid a good amount of money doing what you loved after leaving school to become a make-up artist.

You had been styling for Stray Kids since their debut, and after two years you had gotten quite close with all of them. Your job required you to be there for all promotions, music video shoots, and tours so after a while you formed bonds with the boys since you saw each other so much.

Specifically you formed a special bond with Han Jisung, the boy that you styled the most frequently. You couldn’t quite place when you fell for him, but something about his chill sense of being, his humor, and his overall cuteness made you fall for him. Of course your dreams would never come to fruition, due to the 3 year JYP dating ban. But you were more than okay with hiding your feelings and enjoying your friendship with Jisung as just that; a friendship and nothing more.

Today was the first day of shooting photos for GO LIVE, and you and the others were up early, coffee in hands, ready to make sure that the boys were looking their best for their photos. You were busy organizing your station when the door opened and 8 boys walked in, greeting the team. You smiled as Jisung spotted you and rushed over.

“Y/N! Morning!” You smiled at the smiley and cheerful boy, gesturing for him to sit down in the seat.

“Morning Ji! Excited for your photos today?” You asked, taking a sip of your coffee before grabbing the clips that would hold Han’s hair back while you did your work. Jisung nodded.

“Yep! And I know you’re gonna make me look super handsome!” He said, wiggling his eyebrows up and down. You could help but laugh, cheeks flushing slightly, as you went to grab the primer to begin putting on his face.

“Well thank you for the compliments, Sungie. I will do the best I can,” you said, rubbing the primer into his skin as softly as you could. Jisung’s natural skin was already smooth and soft, so you luckily didn’t need to put too much foundation on, just enough that the flash from the cameras wouldn’t wash him out. You smiled to yourself as you rubbed the primer into his cheeks, them moving with your motions.

“Hey, Y/N! You should tell Han that story you told us the other day!” Your friend, Aly, yelled from the other side of the room where she was currently working on Hyunjin’s makeup and hair. Jisung looked up at you, a questioning glance in his eyes as you laughed at the thought.

“Oh! You wanna hear a story, Ji?” You asked. Jisung nodded happily as you went to grab the foundations you needed to make his foundation color.

“Okay. I was telling the girls the other day about how one time I was at a birthday party for one of my friends and they wanted to play hide and seek,” you began, dabbing a light coat of foundation onto the idol's face.

“Anyway, they somehow managed to convince everyone that we should play it in the dark. So my friend went through the house, turned off all the lights and began counting.” Jisung hummed as you began dusting a light coat of setting powder onto his face to keep the foundation in place and matte.

“So, naturally, I begin walking around trying to find a good place to hide. But I didn’t realize that there were stairs near where we were standing. So as I’m walking, I accidentally reach the stairs and before I know it I’m fully tumbling down the stairs,” you said, beginning the light bit of eyeshadow that Han usually wore.

“My friends hear me, obviously, and are like ‘what happened?’. So they turn on their flashlights and go looking for the noise. They see me laying at the bottom of the stairs, just staring at the ceiling in a sort of existential crisis way. And my one friend, who was the seeker, as the audacity to look at me and say,” You moved away from Han’s eyes as you looked him dead in the eyes and imitating your friend said, “‘Found you.’ I was pissed!” You exclaimed as Jisung began to laugh at your story. You smiled as the idol laughed at your stupid story, the sound of it making your heart race ever so slightly.

“They didn’t even check to see if I had a concussion! So moral of the story is I may have had a concussion and not even known,” you said as Han began to settle down again.

“Damn, that sounds like something Felix and Hyunjin would do to me,” he said, calming his breathing. You heard Felix and Hyunjin let out some grunts or groans of disapproval, which made you chuckle as you began to pull out the eyeliner and brush to continue on his eyes.

“That’s not even the worst thing my friends have done or let me do! Okay, this story is a dosey so let me prepare you for the chaos,” you said, letting Jisung pretend to take a deep breath before he nodded. You chuckled softly before moving in to continue your job.

“So, I never went to college but a lot of my friends did. So they used to invite me to go to parties with them. So my one friend invited me to go to a party with her out of nowhere. And I agreed cause I had nothing better to do. We get there and I may or may not have had a bit too much to drink,” you said, causing Jisung to snort. You grinned as you continued.

“Anyway I was drunk, and my friend comes out of one of the rooms with a bottle of something and brings it to me. She hands it to me and asks ‘Is this whiskey or perfume?’ Now I was drunk and my brain wasn’t working so I was like, the only way to figure this out is to drink it! So I take the bottle from her and I take the top off and proceed to take a hefty swing, swallow, before saying ‘it is definitely perfume.’ I had to get my stomach pumped and I didn’t go to another party for about 3 months,” you finished. Jisung was full on cackling by now, bent over and holding his stomach as he laughed. You smiled at how his laugh sounded, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. You were glad that Han found your stories amusing, even if they were slightly embarrassing to tell. You’d embarrass yourself for hours if it meant getting to hear Han’s laugh.

It wasn’t until Han finally raised his head up that you realized the error of your ways. You gasped, covering your hand with your mouth as you observed Han’s face. The laughter had caused tears to form and now there were tears running down Jisung’s face that were black with a mix of his foundation color. Jisung stopped laughing once he saw your expression and then looked to the mirror quickly. He groaned when he noticed the colored streaks on his face.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. But technically this is your fault. You made me laugh too hard!” He said, causing you to hit his arm lightly. You sighed as you grabbed the makeup wipes, hoping to salvage your work.

“Hey, Y/N? Are you almost done?” Grace asked from where she stood beside Seungmin. You looked up to see the other stylists and their members were done. You waved her off.

“Almost. Go ahead, Jisung and I will be there soon!” You said, watching them nod and walk out the door. You were left alone with Jisung as you fixed his foundation and added more eyeliner to his eyes.

“Sorry about this, I didn’t know I was going to make you laugh so hard,” you said, dabbing his eye lightly. Jisung shook his head lightly, trying not to make any sudden movements.

“You’re fine. It really is my fault. Besides, I like your stories,” He grabbed your wrist to stop you and looked up at you with his big chocolate eyes, a smile playing on his face.

“Maybe you’d like to tell me more of them over a cup of coffee and a slice of cheesecake?” He asked. It took a moment for your brain to register that he was flirting with you and that he was asking you on a date. Your face turned bright red at the revelation and your heart began racing.

“But… you’re not supposed to date!” You exclaimed, trying to reason yourself out of the situation. Jisung shrugged.

“You’re right. But who said we needed to call it a date? I prefer to see it as two people who like each other getting to know one another better. Besides, my dating ban is only 3 years,” Jisung said, his voice dripping honey as he tried to convince you to go with him. You stared at him, his eyes peering into yours as you tried to figure out what to do. Finally you sighed, moving to finish his eyeliner.

“Fine. I suppose we can do that. But get ready, I’m gonna make you laugh so hard you bust a rib,” you said, a small smile on your face. Jisung cheered as you put your brushes down and took the clips out. Styling his hair ever so slightly, you stepped back.

“Okay dummy, you are ready. Now go before you’re even more late.” Jisung stood up and began to walk away before stopping. He turned around and planted a soft kiss on your cheek, before rushing out the door.

“See you later, Y/N!” He called. You stared at the door, a hand pressed to your cheek and a dazed expression on your face.

That boy would be the death of you. But you didn’t mind.

#han jisung #han jisung fluff #han jisung x reader #jisung #jisung x reader #han jisung imagine #han jisung x reader fluff #stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfic #stray kids #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #skz #skz jisung #skz x reader

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vennilavee · 4 years

Text

the soul of a flame - ch 2

ignite

the soul of a flame masterlist

pairing: levi x reader of color

summary: levi sees you a few more times at the silver sapphire, where you’re in your element.

warnings: alcohol, cursing

word count: ~4000

a/n: mostly a filler chapter to establish characters and the setting. also i might be adding several chapters in between, after further outlining LOL. enjoy! plz reblog and leave a comment if you liked this

***

You were definitely not expecting the bar to be this busy tonight. Neither you nor Misaki had known that the Survey Corps were about to go on a big expedition, which explained why anyone with a green cape who was old enough to drink was in your bar.

The expedition was in a few days, far enough in the future where it didn’t feel like it was looming just yet. The grim truth is that you’d see fewer and fewer of those green capes every time they’d come back. You wonder what exactly happens on those expeditions, but it can’t be anything good. You have a soft spot for them- they’ve treated you kindly for the most part.

It’s those damn MP’s that grate on your last nerve. The number of times that some of them, especially the older ones, have barged into your bar. Demanding free alcohol as some kind of payment for “protecting” the citizens of Wall Rose.

The number of times you’ve forced them out. It’s one too many.

You’re working up a sweat as you try to keep up with everyone at the bar. There’s dirt on your navy blue blouse and it’s bothering you every time you glance down but you haven’t had a chance to rub it away. You’re also certain that there is dirt on your face as well but you pay no mind to it. There’s no time, after all. Not when there’s dozens of soldiers who are desperate for a drink and a good time.

You fleetingly wonder if you’ll see any familiar faces. You’ve met some members of Squad Mike, Squad Levi and Squad Hange at least once. You’re the most acquainted with Squad Levi. You’ve even met some members of the Garrison regiment, including Hannes and Rico Brzenska, who reminds you somewhat of someone you once knew a long time ago.

Your thoughts flutter to Levi. You’ve seen him two or three times so far, and you would be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy his company. As rare as it was that he came by. He’s so easy to tease, and sometimes he gives it right back to you. That makes you smile when it happens.

Drinks are flowing, your arms beginning to get tired from the tumblers of ale and mixed drinks you’ve been refilling over the last hour. It’s bustling and noisy, just how you like it. Misaki’s in the same boat as you, carrying two trays filled with snacks and drinks.

Squad Levi is at their usual corner of the bar, but Levi isn’t with them. You wonder if he’ll show up later, but your thoughts are pulled away from the grumpy Captain when Squad Mike saunters into your bar with Mike himself leading the charge. The tall man sticks out from the rest as he generously sniffs around the bar. You’ve heard from Oluo that the man has a few interesting habits.

They look incredibly happy for a team about to embark on a potentially fatal mission. You suppose this is the territory that comes with being in the Survey Corps.

And where is their Commander? Erwin Smith. It’s been years, over a decade since you had last seen his piercing, blue eyes. You doubt he remembers you. It’s a memory even you have to reach into the depths of your mind for.

But still. If anyone should have a drink tonight, it’s him.

You manage to sneak in a shot or two to steel your own nerves when you see Erwin walk in with Levi right next to him. You meet Levi’s eyes and wave at him.

“Commander Erwin,” You nod, “Honored to meet you, sir.”

He’s as intimidating and commanding of respect now as he was back then. You watch his face for a flash of recognition but there is none. Seemingly.

You offer both him and Levi a drink and excuse yourself to help Misaki out with the new orders that have come through.

You’ve slowly come to realize that the Survey Corps really knows how to drink. When you deliver a drink to Erwin and his table members, you wryly tell him that the Survey Corps budget must be bursting at the seams. If they’ve got enough money to splurge on alcohol like this.

“We only splurge like this once in a while. When we know that many of us won’t be returning,” He replies and you nearly shrivel up from his icy gaze.

You can’t help but feel like you’ve been scolded like a schoolchild. You leave them to their devices, deciding to work on the growing pile of dirty dishes in the back. The flow of orders has slowed down and you’re hoping you can keep up with the cleaning.

“Loosen up, Erwin,” Levi says easily, after a sip of his whiskey, “Maybe that stick up your ass will loosen up, too.”

Erwin rolls his eyes at his Captain and takes a drink of his earthwater. It had been the recommendation of Hange, Moblit and even Levi himself.

He’s pleasantly surprised.

Levi leans back in his chair, crossing his arms across his chest. He watches you and Misaki flit around quickly between tables, almost like a dance. You both work together synchronously to fulfill orders and even have the time for small talk with the patrons of the bar. His gaze is unwavering, maybe even harsh. He sees a few specks of dust on your cheeks and your forehead.

It bothers him more than it should.

The next time you circle back to their table, he can’t help himself-

“Oi. You’ve got some dirt on your face,” Levi points out, looking up at you from his seat.

Your cheeks heat up and you haphazardly rub your face. In an attempt to clean your face, you end up smudging the dirt around even more and Levi shakes his head. At this angle, Levi can see a stain at the collar of your navy shirt.

How annoying.

You walk away from them after taking their orders and Levi watches you head to the back supply room. Levi waits a few beats before following you inside.

You nearly let out a screech when you come face to face with him. He moves so quietly and he raises an eyebrow at your jumpiness.

“You made the dirt worse,” Levi says plainly, pointing to your cheeks.

The bar is filled with people, noise bouncing and echoing off of the walls. You can hear the bustle even in the supply closet. Your cheeks are hot again, your throat dry and you grip the box in your hands tightly. The chatter of conversation is somehow drowned out by the intensity of Levi’s silver eyes.

“So you followed me in here?” You joke nervously.

“It’s bothering me,” Levi murmurs and steps closer to you.

He’s only a breath away from you, and the quip that was on the tip of your tongue dies on your lips. Your dark eyes are wide, and god, has it always been this hot in here?

“You mind?” Levi asks quietly, taking a handkerchief out of his pocket.

He knows how this looks. But you shake your head immediately, words seemingly stolen from your throat. Levi presses his clean handkerchief to your cheek, rubbing gently against your heated skin. And then your forehead, and above your eyebrow. He sees your scars once more, just above your eyebrow and his eyes flicker to the one below your clavicle.

Levi pulls his hand away and you wonder if he can hear the sound of blood rushing to your ears. The lamp behind Levi somehow both illuminates and casts shadows on his striking features, his eyes melting silver into yours.

He tucks the handkerchief in his pocket and notices your eyes flicker to his lips. Then back to his eyes.

But he takes a step back and has a hand on the doorknob.

“Your collar is stained, too,” Levi mutters.

With that, as if he hadn’t almost touched your face with his bare hands, he exits the supply closet and heads back to his table. Levi downs his drink quickly and tells everyone at his table that he’ll be leaving. And that they should do the same.

It takes you a few minutes to regain your composure.

***

Levi is alone tonight. It’s the first time he’s heading to the Silver Sapphire without his squad. It’s eerie, he decides, kicking a stray rock out of his path. It’s quiet, and yet he can hear the muffled sounds of conversation in the night. A light breeze dances through his hair and he looks up, seeing that the moon is nowhere in sight.

He stands outside of your bar and leans on his cane, hesitating for a moment but ultimately making the decision to pull the door open and go inside. There are a few people scattered across the bar, some in quiet conversation with each other and others sitting in silence. He recognizes a few faces from the arrival parade from earlier this morning. Perhaps they are drinking their sorrows away.

Perhaps he should, too.

Levi doesn’t see you at first glance. He sees a tall woman behind the bar, with long, dark hair, sharp features and piercing, green eyes. She makes her way over to him with a notepad and a pen in hand.

“I’m Misaki. Can I get you something to eat or drink?”

“Just an earthwater.”

And she’s gone as quickly as she came.

Levi allows his eyes to wander, subtly searching for where you might be. He sees you emerge from the backdoor, your arms filled with new glasses and tumblers. You carry them with ease, without a worry of shattering even a single one.

He leans back in his seat, peeling his green Survey Corps trench coat off. He folds it and places it on his lap as he murmurs a soft thanks to Misaki when she brings him a full glass of earthwater.

It’s as bitter and sweet as he remembers it, and he downs the glass in less than a minute. Levi passes a glance at the other end of the bar, the end that he knew Oluo and Petra liked to sit at. They said it gave them the best view of the main street and that it was quieter on this side of the bar, where they could hear each other speak.

Well. They were dead now. The thought makes Levi want another drink. How annoying.

As if reading his mind Misaki comes by once more, asking him if he’d like another drink. He nods, and Misaki is sure to add a little more alcohol in his earthwater. He looks like he needs it.

A flash of Petra’s bloody face lights up in his mind. Then, a flash of her father telling him that she’d chosen to dedicate her life to him.

Another long gulp.

Then, a flash of Eld’s fiancée. Pleading, needing to know where Eld was. And then her bright eyes flooded with tears, asking if he had died valiantly.

And the truth was, even if Levi himself wasn’t present… He is certain that he did.

Another even longer gulp. The alcohol burns in the best way. He isn’t one to do this, to lament over fallen soldiers much less, lament over fallen soldiers over alcohol.

But it feels different this time. It’s his team.

Levi doesn’t realize how tightly he’s gripping the glass in his hands, and he doesn’t flinch as he finishes off the rest of it.

***

Your curiosity is piqued when you see Captain Levi sitting alone at the bar of the bar, clutching his drink like his life depends on it. You see a cane poking out from the bottom of the table. Is he injured? You wonder where his team and his friends are. Then you recall that there was an expedition recently.

You swallow dryly. Had his team perished outside the walls? An unwelcome pit of dread buries itself in your belly. You cast a wary look at Levi, wondering if he’s planning on drinking himself to oblivion like so many of his fellow soldiers do after a loss.

Though, he doesn’t seem the type to do so.

You wonder if you’ll ever see Petra or Oluo ever again, though you feel as though you have the answer already. A familiar sort of melancholy settles in your bones, one that you’re all too familiar with. One that you’re certain Levi is familiar with, as well. Busying yourself with restocking and attending to other customers, you can’t help but glance at him every so often. He’s staring into nothingness, his gaze shifting from the floor, to the other side of the bar, to his glass, and finally you.

You hadn’t been expecting that, but you hold his steely, grey gaze. It’s empty and stern, making you want to look away. But you don’t. You hold your ground and watch as he brings his glass to his lips and takes a hearty sip.

You wonder if he’s thinking of that moment in the supply closet. And yet, it seems so trivial now. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think of that moment often.

You’re pulled away from his enthralling gaze by Misaki, asking you to remind her where the new washcloths you had ordered were. You tease her before telling her that they’re in the supply closet, next to the plates.

You’re unable to stop yourself from glancing over at Captain Levi once more.

***

It’s getting late, and Levi is the last one in your bar. You don’t want to usher him out. It’s clear that he’d come here as a last reprieve. Trying to catch a memory of his team from… before.

You’ve already told Misaki that she can go home. She casts a look at Levi but nods, gathering her things and leaving.

You pour a steaming cup of tea for yourself, and for Levi. Probably not a great idea, considering the time it is. But you do so anyway, and sit across from Levi at his table.

He doesn’t react, only casting you a look of acknowledgement. But he continues to gaze at you, in his piercing way. Your hair is pulled away from your face, he notes. Your gaze is just as piercing as his and he finds himself unable to pull away from your dark eyes. The shadows illuminate the highest points of your cheeks, especially when your lips pull apart and you offer him a smile.

“You can kick me out. Don’t have to give me special treatment just because I’m Captain Levi,” Levi drawls.

“You’re not my Captain,” You raise an eyebrow, “Besides, I’m not giving you special treatment because you’re Captain Levi. I’m giving you special treatment because I think you need it.”

“Here,” You slide his cup of tea to him, “It’s on the house.”

“You give everyone drinks on the house this often, or is it just me?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” You grin and Levi catches a flash of your pearly, white teeth.

He scoffs.

“Doesn’t seem like a lucrative business practice,” Levi mutters.

“Well, The Silver Sapphire’s still standing, isn’t it?” You ask dryly, “It’s not bad for business when those fuckin’ MPs and Garrison soldiers tell their friends that the pretty girl with the bar gives out free drinks once in a while.”

“Those fuckin’ MPs,” Levi rolls his eyes, “Shit for brains.”

To his surprise, you laugh, “Yeah. We’ve got a history. Me and the MPs ”

Levi looks at you with the same bored look and says nothing. But he wonders what that means.

“You usually don’t come here alone. In fact, none of you do. You come as friends. It’s why I like the Survey Corps so much more than them,” You say, crossing your arms across your chest. Levi catches a glint of the gold necklace around your neck and narrows his eyes. It has a gold pendant, with a pale green stone embedded in it.

There’s no way that a bar owner could have a jewel that intricate and rare. There’s a story there, he’s sure of it. You clutch the pendant as if it’s a reflex, or a nervous habit.

“My team’s dead. Died during the last expedition,” Levi says bluntly after a few minutes, not missing the way your eyes fill with sorrow and how your smile falls.

“I’m sorry, Levi. I’d heard it was a tough one,” You say softly, “Cheers to them. May their souls rest in peace.”

You raise your glass and he does as well, the clink of the cups echoing in the silent bar.

“They were good. Had good hearts,” You murmur, “I didn’t know them very long but I knew that much.”

“Yes, they were. They died with no regrets. As good people. Good soldiers.”

“And you? Do you have any regrets, Captain Levi?” You ask boldly, watching him through your eyelashes as you take another sip. The tea warms you from the inside out, and you hope Levi is enjoying it as well. But you can’t tell, his face as impassive as ever.

“Only fools have regrets,” Levi says easily, “Nobody is sure of anything in life. We shouldn’t waste our limited time on thoughts of what could have been done.”

And yet, his thoughts flutter to Isabel and Farlan, before reeling himself back into your thoughtful eyes.

“I suppose,” You murmur, “People can waste their lives dwelling over the things they regret doing. Or not doing. But I guess… there’s no wrong or right choice. We have to feel what we need to feel in order to move on.”

You have a faraway look in your eyes, and it’s mirrored in Levi’s own eyes. You tug the sleeves of your loose shirt past your knuckles, seemingly sinking into your memories. Levi thinks that this has become a habit. Of seeing you up close like this. There is a deep scar along the hollow of your shoulder to your clavicle, and he sees the shallow one on your forehead. The one he had noticed the first time he had come to your bar.

Despite the gold on your neck, the rings on your fingers, the silk of your clothing… You weren’t born to it. You probably crawled your way through, as evidenced by the scars. He idly wonders if there are more.

You rub the back of your neck before downing the rest of your tea.

“Tea’s not half bad,” Levi says, and you know that’s the most you’ll get out of him. You also know it’s the end of your night with him.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” You scoff.

Levi stands from his seat, shaking his trench coat of any dirt before fastening it over his shoulders. Before he can fix his collar, you step forward and fix it for him. Your fingers are light over the nape of his neck, eyes never leaving his. Dark brown mixes with gunmetal grey, and for a moment you’re transfixed by the way the moonlight strikes his eyes. Making them look like a molten silver.

“I’ll see you soon, Captain,” You say softly as you walk him to the front door.

“Thought you said I wasn’t your Captain,” Levi drawls, amusement outlined in the upturn of his lips.

You laugh, “I’ll see you soon, Levi.”

***

The next time Levi comes by, a few weeks has gone by. In that time, Stohess District had become a titan battlefield resulting in many civilian casualties. You’re wise enough, and selfish enough, to acknowledge that that could have been Trost. Again.

You’re glad that your entire livelihood is on the edge of Trost District, bordering the next town. It had been mainly avoided during the Battle for Trost, save for minor property damages. But still. It’s never a good sign when there are these many civilian casualties.

You wonder what the hell is going on with the Survey Corps, the Garrison and the MPs. Are you all just fodder for their grand plans?

What a life worth living, in these three walls.

It’s one of the few times that Levi comes by when the sun is still in the sky. He seems to only visit at night. Probably because that’s when it’s easiest for him to leave the Survey Corps headquarters. That’s probably when he has the most free time.

It’s a breathtaking sight, seeing the sunlight against his dark hair. You wonder if he even knows that there’s a halo of light on top of his silky hair.

You suppress a shudder. He’s ethereal, everyone in your bar turns to look at him in awe and curiosity. His white sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and the top two buttons of his shirt are open. You swallow, trying to lubricate your dry throat. And yet he’s walking towards you as if he was created on the same plane of existence as you. Levi’s face is stoic, betraying no emotion as he leans an elbow against the bar.

“Haven’t seen you this early in the day before. Almost didn’t recognize you,” You joke and he rolls his grey eyes. When they catch in the dimming sunlight, they almost look blue.

“Don’t get used to it.”

“No need to be mean,” You scoff, “Want a drink? You look like you could use it.”

Levi doesn’t reply, only offering you a grimace.

“I’m here because Erwin’s asked a favor of you,” Levi says in his usual bored drawl, “He wants you to be our supplier for alcohol. For any and all pre-expedition send offs.”

Despite Erwin sending his soldiers to their deaths as often as he did, Levi considers it a small reprieve that they are happy for at least a night before.

“Tell your Commander that nothing I do is for free or out of the kindness of my delicate heart,” You say, leaning against the bar. You’re close enough to him that you can see amusement in his eyes even as he narrows them at you.

“Delicate heart?” Levi scoffs, “Yeah, right.”

“Tell your Commander to stop by again, huh? I’m sure he could use a drink. Especially after dealing with you all the time,” You tease. You can’t help but want to prod him, to see if he remembered you from all those years ago. You highly doubted it.

Something flickers across his face and you’re almost worried for a second that you’ve offended him. But then you see the small upturn of his lips and your heart nearly bursts in your chest.

“I could say the same. About him and Four Eyes,” Levi rolls his eyes, “And about you.”

“Me? I am a delight to be around,” You say easily and wink at him.

“Is this how you are with all your bar patrons?”

“And how am I, Levi?”

“Insufferable,” Levi says without batting an eyelash and you push his drink towards him.

“Only with you, honey,” You wink at him again and step away from the bar to tend to your other patrons, “Only with you.”

You cast a look at him from over his shoulder, only to find him already looking at you with sharp eyes.

The evening crowd begins to filter into the bar and you’re unable to stray from your bar patrons. Levi wonders how that smile of yours, as genuine as it is, can remain painted on your face for as long as it has. Your eyes shine with mirth, and you greet your patrons as if they are all long lost friends of yours.

Levi finishes the remainder of his drink before fastening his coat and taking his cane. He winces as he stands to his feet, his leg not quite healed yet. He leaves without saying goodbye, and asks himself when he allowed you and your bright smiles to burrow in his mind. Your flirty words and teasing are annoying to say the least. And yet...

Truth be told, he didn’t really fight this feeling from twining itself inside of him to begin with. And that’s not something he’ll lie to himself about.

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #aot x reader #snk x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi x you

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asunshinepuff · 3 years

Text

Secrets of the Darkened Seas

🧜🏻‍♀️ Hello! Welcome to chapter two! Please please please give a like and follow to my co-author and best friend Luna ( @epithymiahua ) because this story would not be where it’s at without her help!

She’s incredible and deserves so much credit for working on this alongside me cause she works so hard. And I feel horrible that she isn’t getting the credit deserves. Especially since this chapter includes her own oc! All credit for his creation goes to her because she’s worked so hard to create him!

As always, a reminder that there is some lore included within this, however it will be explained over time so no worries. There’s no mention of lore for right now.

The Included lore on different types of merfolk will be taken from the book “The Secret World of Mermaids” by Francine Rose. I will not take credit for it’s writing. It’s a childhood book of mine that I adore dearly and sincerely think you should all check out!

Also! Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list so that you don’t miss a new chapter!

Anyways, that’s about it. I hope you enjoy! 🧜��‍♀️

Chapter 2: The Dragon’s Pearl

The man and the young boy made their way to the far side of the docks, the sun was beginning to make it’s descent to the sea. The water rippled below the hull of ships, anchors being lowered or weighing anchors to begin their sails back at sea. Some of the townspeople were making their trek home. Quinn and Remus approach the ship that Remus had seen earlier in the day from a distance.

But up close, it was truly a sight to behold. The masts that were open, were a starking white, the wooden haul a rich brown mahogany, spotless with not a barnacle in sight. The railings were painted gold like the sun, freshly polished and not a splinter out of place. The bow had a golden nautical figurehead of a creature that Remus had never seen before. With a long serpentine body fully covered in scales, and large horns protruding from its head. A white spherical object clutched in one of its clawed hands. It’s jaws open as if to strike.

Remus’ eyes widened as he gazed upon the ship he had studied earlier. Glancing at Quinn, he couldn’t help but ask, “How has no one tried to steal this ship?”

Quinn chuckles, “Oh they’ve tried, but never got very far. My brother, the captain, is a force of his own that is not to be reckoned with.” He says with a smile. At Remus’ growing concerned face he quickly adds on, “Don’t worry. He might seem a bit… well, rather cold at first. To put it lightly. But he’s not a bad man.”

“How far have they gotten?”

Quinn muses for a moment in silence, as they make their way up the loading dock to the ship’s deck, thinking of the many times pirates - including the Blacks - have tried to take over the ship. “Never past deck.” He smiles at the crewmen preparing to sail as he stands in the middle of all their work. “Anyone seen the Captain?”

“Last we saw him, he threw Ethan overboard.” A sailor responded courtly. He was dressed in black pants and boots, a white shirt, and a gold sash around his waist.

Quinn looks to the sailor in bewilderment, “Again? What is that, the fifth time now?”

“Seventh actually, Ethan told the joke about the donkey.”

“I told him not to do that.” He shakes his head with an exasperated sigh. “Never learns does he?”

A young man with short curly dark brown hair, brown eyes, tanned skin was soaked to the bone in water as he marched back up to the ship. He looks to Quinn.

“Don’t look at me like that, I told you not to tell that joke. You’ve brought this upon yourself.” The young man rubs his necks as he walks below deck to change. Quinn shakes his head before he turns to Remus as he claps his hands and rubs them together. “It’s harmless really.” The man groans in pain, as if to contradict Quinn. “Eh, mostly.”

Remus watches the man in pain walk below the deck with widened eyes. He looks back to Quinn and the sailor, “Does that happen often?”

Quinn tilts his head back and forth with his arms crossed, “I’d like to tell you no, to ease you, but that’d be a lie. It happens on more than one occasion, though less often than you’d think.” He chuckles under his breath, “Now come along. I think it’s time to introduce you.” He then turns behind him and just smiles. “Hello, Min-Jun.”

Remus turns to follow, and nearly jumps in surprise. Lo and behold, said Captain was standing right behind them. The Captain was a tall young Asian man, around the age of twenty-one, with an expressionless face, had short straight black hair with part bangs, fair skin, and dark eyes. He was dressed in a well-tailored black coat with a dark forest green vest on top of a white shirt, black pants, and boots. At his hip was a wide sword with a dark forest green sheath with gold accents.

“Quinn.” He says in a deep monotone. His posture was as straight at a board, his hand at his side, his left hand on the hilt of his sword. His gaze lowers to the boy beside Quinn, narrowing a fraction before he looks to Quinn. “You were at the Taverns again weren’t you?”

“I will neither confirm nor deny.”

“So that’s a yes.” A brow rises ever so slightly before it’s gone in the blink of an eye. The captain turned his head slightly to look over the boy. “Apologies for any idiotic schemes my First mate may have dragged you into. He is not the brightest, but his heart is in the right place. Usually. He has the unfortunate ailment of defying gravity. I once caught him upside down on the masts so there’s that.”

“And who put me there Min-Jun? Cause it certainly wasn’t me. I may do many schemes you might consider idiotic-”

“Because they are.” His head leans to look at Quinn in a bored expression but his eyes held amusement.

Quinn raises his eyebrows, giving a pointed look before continuing, “But I wouldn’t do that out of my own volition!’

The captain simply looks away, fully content to ignore the auburn-haired man. “I am Min-Jun Hua. The crew calls me Captain Hua. What is your name?” He looks back towards Remus.

Remus was silent during the whole exchange, internally studying the interaction closely. He was uncertain whether the Captain and First Mate actually got along or if they hated each other, however, he caught the amusement in his eyes within their banter. They did get along. It was as if they were teasing each other. Maybe they actually did consider each other siblings. He noted with his own amusement now that his initial caution has about this new Captain has diminished. They’re so very different. How did they become companions?

“My name is Remus Lupin, Captain,” Remus replies with a curt nod, as he was trying to contain his nerves and seem content in the situation. He was uncertain if it was effective or not, but he seemed to take comfort in the fact that Quinn was so relaxed with the man.

Captain Hua says nothing for a long while as he stares silently at Remus. Completely motionless for what seemed to Remus, eternity, before the Asian finally looked like he took a breath. The Captain turned his gaze to his First mate. “He’ll be under your care for the meantime. Have him bathed, dressed, and fed before you send him to bed for the night. Tomorrow he can begin.” The captain says nothing more before he looks to Remus once again. “Welcome aboard the Dragon’s Pearl.” He gives a curt nod to Remus before he walks away to resume his duties.

Remus lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding before looking to Quinn in surprise, “Why didn’t he ask any questions? Wouldn’t he want to know more about me before deciding to let me aboard?”

Quinn merely shakes his head before looking to Remus, “The Captain is an incredibly loyal soul, he respects privacy. If you wish to talk about your past then he will listen, and he will never mention it again without your approval.” He says with a smile. “He cares, deeply. He’d rather have you upon this ship then let you be on your own. That’s what happened to Ethan as well, he’s actually not that much older than you, Remus. He’s turning seventeen next moon.” Looking to the ship, he runs a hand upon the railing gently before continuing. “This old vessel has seen many stray boys board her, and she’s seen many of them become family. The captain only asks for loyalty, truthfulness, bravery, and devotion to family.”

Remus smiles, comforted by his words. There was always more than meets the eye. He looks around the ship in surprise, “This ship looks brand new. How long has it been sailing waters?”

“Quite a long time. Practically hundreds of years. It’s been passed down through the generations of his family.”

“That’s incredible.”

“It is.” Quinn remarks with a nod in agreement, before looking back to the boy, “Now, we’ll be embarking at dusk. You want to watch the ship be put to sea?”

The two got situated at a good viewing point for the departure after taking care of duties below deck. It felt rather strange, yet refreshing to Remus to dawn a new set of clothes. Yet his scarf stayed tied around his waist, as usual, at least he could take some part of familiarity with him. The Captain began to call out orders to the crew before he took his place behind the keel, the crew lowered the masts, catching the wind. The colors were hanged, where Remus could see the emblem on the masts and flag of the ship. A gold circle and in the center was the same creature that Remus had seen on the bow of the ship, but from the side. Only without the sphere.

What sort of creature was that? Remus couldn’t help but wonder in curiosity as he watched the emblem upon the masts and flag of the ship.

“It’s a dragon. An eastern dragon.” Quinn says in reply, with a smirk upon his face as he looked to the boy. It seems Remus accidentally spoke aloud, and for once, he was alright with that.

A loud shout echoed from a grumbling man who was making his way to The Dragon’s Pearl loading dock. Remus flinched as he recognized the voice of the drunken man from earlier, while Quinn moved defensively to shield the fourteen-year-old from sight.

“I know he’s up there! Where is he?!” The slurred words from the drunk captain all but screech out. The hooked nose man stumbled his way on board, his eyes locked onto the auburn-haired man who stood defensively in front of the former deck boy. “You!”

“Me,” Quinn answered easily with a faint smirk.

“Where’s that deck boy!?” The drunk captain practically roared into Quinn’s face. To which Quinn’s nose simply twitched at the smell of alcohol that reeked off the man.

“Behind me, though I doubt you’d be able to grab him.”

“Where’s your captin’, I ought to have a word with him. You goin’ ‘round stealin’ deck boys, ought to be ‘shamed of yeself.” The man nearly tumbled over.

“Not stealing when he willingly came aboard. If anyone’s to be ashamed it’s you for your actions.” He retorts with a roll of his eyes then simply tilts his head, “You sure you want to have a word with my captain? You can hardly hold a proper conversation in your state. He won’t take too kindly to that factor.”

“I wan’ see yer captin!”

Quinn doesn’t respond for a moment, only looks behind the drunken captain with a bored look upon his face. “Turn around mate.”

“Wha’?” The drunk captain frowns with his mouth hanging open before he turns, nearly falling down when he sees someone standing behind him. Remus couldn’t help but hold a snicker back from behind Quinn as the drunk man flinched at the mere sight of the tall and sober captain.

Captain Hua looked down at the drunk captain with an emotionless stare but his eyes held a look that screamed ‘How dare you bring your drunken arse onto my pristine and clean ship.’

“You wished to speak to me?” Was the leveled voice of Captain Hua.

“A-aye.”

“You are not qualified to speak to me.”

The drunk captain staggered at the impassive tone. His face grew red. “Ye think you’re bet’er than me?”

“To ask that question offends me.” Captain Hua raised a brow.

“Where’s ye captin’s hat?”

“I don’t need one, I do not need to parade my status on my own ship, nor to ensure the respect of my own crew. They know who I am.” The Captain looked to his First mate. “Please escort this, man back to his ship.” Calling the drunk captain a man was incredibly respectful. Remus thought, truly Captain Hua had a class that was, unfortunately, being wasted upon this drunkard. But then again, Captain Hua didn’t acknowledge him as a Captain either.

“That’d be Captain Barclay ta ye.” He shrugs the hand that grips his arm.

“No. I think the Captain is right. Mr. Barclay.” Quinn contradicts with a smile, “Now, allow me to escort you back to your ship. I’m sure you embark soon.”

“Not without that boy.” The drunk captain glared at the boy.

Captain Hua looked at the drunkard, then at the boy. “First Mate Sandoval, please step aside.” The drunk captain’s eyes widen at the title.

Quinn ignores the surprised look upon the drunkard’s face and instead looks to Remus. Giving him a small smile of comfort and a look that says ‘Trust us. You’ll be alright.’ Then looks back to his Captain, and with a nod, he steps aside.

Captain Hua looked to the drunk man. “You can take this child to your ship, if you answer one question. If you answer correctly, you’re free to take him. If not,” His dark eyes narrowed, his left hand gripped the hilt of his sword, this sword was red compared to the first one Remus had seen. It was sheathed in a red case with gold accents. A strong pulse emitted from the sword as the pulse rippled through the ship. The ropes freed themselves from their knots, moving very much like serpents slithering up trees.

The crew has stopped working and watched openly. “I will throw you overboard.”

The drunk man didn’t notice the pulse of gold energy, nor did he notice the ropes begin to move on their own. Remus’ young eyes watched in amazement at Captain Hua, who’s sheer presence became overpowering, his aura seeming to infect the ship. Stupidly, the drunkard agreed.

“What is the child’s name?”

“...” The drunkard frowned, Remus could practically see the mental strain on the man’s face. His brain was too far gone from the rum. “... Bernard.”

Captain Hua did not look impressed. Not at all. He simply raised a brow before he looked to Remus to correct the man’s answer.

Remus simply smiles and shakes his head. “Wrong.”

What happened next happened rather quickly, it was really a blur to be completely honest. Captain Hua wordlessly grabbed the drunkard by the collar of his shirt, lifted him off the ground and proceeded to walk, not in any hurry, effortlessly to the side of the ship, and threw the man overboard with ease. Remus’ jaw dropped a bit.

“Why didn’t you just use the ropes?” Remus couldn’t help but ask in curiosity.

Captain Hua merely gazed down at the swimming crewmembers from the drunk captain’s ship who threw themselves overboard to ensure the man didn’t drown. “And deprive myself of the pleasure of doing it myself? Never.” Captain Hua’s stoic face gave a smirk in delight. “I would never disgrace The Dragon’s Pearl to so much as even touch that drunk. It was painful to watch an alcoholic parade around with a captain’s hat and acting like a child throwing a temper tantrum.”

“... How did you know he didn’t know my name?”

Captain Hua looked down at Remus. “I have two answers. One; most people who make port hardly ever ask for a deck-boys name.” The captain began to walk away from the railing, Remus followed. “Two; even if by the off chance he did know your name, he would not have the sentimentality, nor the intellectual capacity to remember your name, especially while drunk.” He turned to look at Remus. “I would not have made that wager had I believed for a second he would be able to say your name. Not when he preferred to think with an organ that he did not have instead of his brain. Not to mention your name is unusual. I am not one to gamble. Especially with someone’s life.”

Remus pauses for a moment taking in the Captain’s words, before asking the question he was truly reluctant to hear. “... What if he did say my name?”

Captain Hua looked at Remus for a long time before he looked away to the setting sun. “Then he would have won.” Captain Hua looked back to Remus. “It may seem cruel, but I will not lie to you, Remus. I do not break my word.” Captain Hua looked to the sunset once more. “I would have just challenged him to a duel if that was the case. The man couldn’t even walk straight let alone hold a sword.” Without another word, he walked away.

Remus stood silently as he watched the Captain walk away, and looked out to the sunset once he was out of view. There was no relief of tension like he had initially anticipated when he first heard the words of the wager, as if he already knew he was safe. How exactly he determined that conclusion, he had no clue. But in his heart, he knew that was the case.

He watched the shoreline of the port town he had always known, grow smaller and smaller with every glide of the ship, until it vanished from view- it was the start of a new life. A new chapter. Like each morning rise and evening set of the sun upon the sea.

Tag List: (Let me know if you wish to be added!)

@whataboutmyfries

#wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black #remus x sirius #quinn sandoval #captain hua #min-jun hua #asunshinepuff oc #epithymiahuaoc #our ocs #pirate captian #pirate and mermaid au #cw drunken #secrets of the darkened seas

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hueningshaped · 4 years

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★ in the rain | j.ww

▰ genre: angst + fluff in the end (happy ending)

▰ word count: 1902

▰ synopsis: you find wonwoo in the rain after not seeing him for a while, hoping to finally tell him that you got engaged, but he painstakingly tells you that he's in love with you + female! reader i think + pam and jim! dynamic

▰ notes: im not super happy with the ending at all but uhhhh here u go. if anyone wants me to drop the angst / no happy ending lmk hehe + ALSO!! you are very much more than welcome to drop requests and asks in my ask thing :3

There he stood in the rain. After you had ran up to him, he remained in his position, in his posture, in his steps. When he looked at you, there was something behind his eyes. The night consumed the usual soft color of his expression. Now, he was just painted in lead and you almost wanted to cough on it, as if there was smoke billowing up your respiratory system.

"Wonwoo?" You called out, your smile dropping and that of your grip on the umbrella but you remembered what was important.

His face still hadn't changed. You wished that he would've at least worn his dark gray rain coat so that at least would've made his image more comical and that it could provide comedic relief. His eyebrows weren't even as dropped as they typically were; there was something about the fine lines of muscle on his face that were taut and tense, like they were holding something back.

"What's-what's wrong?" The rain continued falling, not even in a characteristic way that it had upon the moods of the showers. "What did I do? What did I do? You-you just stopped answering my texts, m-m-my-my calls. I just wanted to say hello and see if you were —"

"Why didn't you tell me you had set your wedding day, Y/N?"

Then, the muscles stretched a little bit, revealing the most raw source of heartbreak you had never thought could exist. Those strokes of black that comprised his eyebrows furrowed together in a worry, painstakingly quivering just a few degrees, and worst of all, his eyes began to mirror the dynamic of the night.

He bit back a hiccupy sob while trying to smile. A wave of heat blanketed you from head to toe in a frenzy, the warmth barely missing your eyes to gather tears.

"I-I..." why did his heart break? Why was he so upset? Was it because you simply hadn't told him? You had just announced it, barely coming to the decision just a day before. Your best friend, Wonwoo, was breaking at the seams, but for what?

"What happened?" You reached out, now gripping his wrist that remained at his rib. He just felt like ice, heavy and growing colder in terms of proximity.

Wonwoo laughed halfheartedly, sniffling, as you desperately looked up at him, searching, searching, searching his eyes for something. He hesitantly drew his other hand to cup your face, so lightly you would've mistaken the touch for your hair.

"You seriously don't know?" He pressed his thumb into the apple of your cheek, rubbing one of your free streaking tears into your supple flesh.

You shook your head vigorously. Could you have possibly set your wedding date on a day that was completely inconvenient for him? Could you have overlooked one of your friendship anniversaries? Surely, he couldn't have been this upset simply because he wasn't the first to be told. You've known him for years and that was unlikely.

He just kept smiling as the rain seemed to seep through in between the mesh of both of your umbrellas, and if you moved your chin just a a few inches, it looked as if Wonwoo's face was raining, too: breaking away with the storm. You just wanted it to stop. This had to end. But why had it started? He just started ignoring you out of the blue, the most uncharacteristic moves he's ever pulled. This wasn't him. What was it? (But you knew...)

"God, Y/N," he tipped his head back, trying to steady what seemed like shallow breaths, but in reality, he just didn't want to look at the gleaming metal that was now wrapped around your lovely, nimble finger.

"Wonwoo!" You cried out, a crash of thunder resonating just a few miles off. He looked back down. The rain filled in the silence between you two but it proved to be as brief as much as you hadn't wanted it to be.

He smiled through the pain.

"You're such an idiot, God," he muttered and for a second, you thought that things would be back to normal. "I..."

"Yes-yes? What?" Your face ached from worry, the evaporation flitting all around you like something out of anime. "Tell me please, so I can just make things better. I'll let you read to me that sappy book I hate! I-I-I'll do any —"

"I'm in love with you, Y/N," his eyes sparkled in the darkest way possible and whatever you had possibly opened your mouth to say no longer had meaning. You blinked. All you could do was blink dumbly. "I-I don't-I'm just-I...I'm sorry. I know that I should've told you sooner. I just needed you to hear it. It's bad timing, I know. I know."

Your mouth simply went agape as a rush of a thousand emotions infiltrated you.

"What? Why?" You muttered out of instinct because of the confusion. He laughed again, a bitter one this time, and blinked a few tears from his sparkling eyes.

Of course, realizing everything, realizing the grand scheme of all that had occurred since you had even graduated with Wonwoo, ever since you had even first met him, it all hit you with a pang of something.

Sure, you had been engaged to Yeongsu, your sweetheart from undergraduate school, who didn't always treat you sweet, but you and him just had a foundation. He and you had been together for many years, despite his inability to understand you sometimes and so what that he didn't pursue you; you thought love was like that. Wasn't it supposed to be?

Before you knew, your vision grew blurry and warmth streamed down your cheeks in thin ribbons. Wonwoo's face pained at the sight as soon as you blinked through.

"I don't know what to do or say, W-Wonwoo. What do you expect me to say?" You choked. The street had quieted down so now you had no choice but to hear yourself and him, breaking down.

His lips pursed, tightening slowly into a frown.

"I know, I know. It's selfish of me, but I just wanted you to know, okay? Okay?" His voice broke with the final word and as did the gate that had been keeping his own years at bay. You nodded grimly in return because a part of you seemed to crumble with his composure.

"What, is this your goodbye or something?" You coughed between your intakes of breath. He looked up into the ceiling of his umbrella before meeting your eyes once again.

"I'm...going back to Changwon...on the fourteenth of June. I don't know how long I'm staying either." He breathed. Your wedding would be set on the exact same day, only you would be on the opposite side of the country.

The rain came back and as did your misery.

He loved you. He loves you. He loved you. He loves you.

Your one and only confidant, your best friend, your comforter, your protecter, your shoulder to cry on, your reason to laugh and smile, your dork, Wonwoo. He was going to leave. Worse, you were going to leave him just the same. Was this goodbye to your friendship?

"Well, I..." you managed out of a broken cry. "I can't ask you to stay because that's selfish of me but we're-we're past that now," Wonwoo sniffled and leaned closer to you, which he typically did to listen to whatever you had to say, considering his great height. "And I know our friendship is more important than anything."

"Please don't do that. I don't want that. I want to be more than that." He pleaded in that constantly calm voice of his.

"Wonwoo," you mirrored his own desperation, reaching to tug his sleeve tightly into your fists. He used his other hand to rub the loose tears into your cheeks, moving over your nose as his bottom lip trembled. "Wonwoo..."

And he paused his motions, meeting your eyes again. Everything suddenly terrified you because you had no clue what would be the last thing you two would do in this moment. God knew even if you would see each other again. Your futures were locked, weren't they? You felt powerless but you had the key. Nonetheless, the guilt had you beginning to tremble.

Your guesses about what would fill in this now empty gap between the two of you was fulfilled when Wonwoo just dove in. His lips collided with yours and you just buckled into yourself, his arms embracing you in the right moment to catch you. It was like getting a power up from a game. The warmth that you felt was unrelenting. It was everything... you had dreamt of. The kiss continued, shifted, proceeded, evolved, but eventually, it came to a halt as you felt a few stray tear drops hit your skin that weren't yours.

When you pulled away, Wonwoo smiled painfully, hesitantly meeting your eyes. You still were in shock.

He held your hand now loosely. Wonwoo was ready to let go, his fingers inching away by degrees, and you could feel your heart dropping by the second. He was ready to let go of you and of it all, but you weren't...

"I-I love you, too," you cried, wanting to unravel into sobs as his eyes widened in that adorable way that they always did when in shock. He tightened his grasp around you. "Wonwon, I'm the one who's been selfish. I'm the one who's done you wrong. I'm the one who is in the wrong, I'm the one..."

He moved in again, his lips just above yours for another kiss, which scared you, but instead, he took gentle swipes across your face. You had missed out on all this just because of your own stupidity.

"It's okay, it's okay. Don't say that," he muttered, his voice above the pitter patter of the rain shower. "Don't..."

He left his sentence unfinished, now resting his forehead against yours with his hands brushing your stray tears away.

"I love you, Wonwoo," you pleaded. "But, what can I do?"

The answer was obvious to you, but you offered an alternative.

"Can...can we run away together?" You muttered. Wonwoo cupped your cheek, snorting but still mustering a sweet, sad smile.

"I wouldn't want to do that to you, Y/N. I-I should've just kept this to myself. You're supposed to get married and finally have that dream wedding and that level of domestic bliss that you've wanted. I can't take it away."

You lifted yourself on the balls of your feet to rub your forehead against his, pulling him down with you to make it work.

"But, Wonwoo, you can give that all to me," he pulled away gently to look down at you. "I want to be with you forever."

"Forever?" His voice tripped in pitch.

"Forever." With that, you grinned again before he wanted to pull in for another kiss.

If yours and his future only took a few steps, why not take them? Why stay quiet and unhappy? You shouldn't settle. You should've never settled.

"Wait," he pulled back from your reddening lips. "Can I take you out on a date first?"

"Of course," you smiled against his. "Tomorrow." You chuckled, lightly punching him, but nodding nonetheless.

"Tomorrow, for sure."

#wonwoo angst #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo fluff #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #jeon wonwoo

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concealeddarkness13 · 3 years

Text

WHG 15 Imposter Syndrome Part 5

Tagging: @sparkles-and-hens, @knmartinshouldbewriting, @maple-writes (also thanks for Volt!), @pen-of-roses, @thoughts-of-nora, and @ratracechronicler (also thanks for Priscilla Cristal and Atwater!)!

I stared at myself in the mirror as my stylist put the finishing touches on the most ghastly costume I had ever seen. I glanced over at my stylist, who had a permanent sneer on his face. “A cow. Really?”

He waved his hand dismissively. “It’s not like you livestock people give me anything to work with.”

I glared at him. “How am I supposed to get sponsors like this?” I gestured at the full body suit of a cow, complete with a cow headpiece.

“Who cares? I didn’t sign up for District 10 anyway. They had to beg me to do it. You should be grateful.”

I snorted and started walking to the door. “Well, you should be grateful for this then.” I shot him double middle fingers before I slammed the door behind me.

This wouldn’t do at all. I would probably need supplies in the arena, so I would need sponsors. Which meant I couldn’t be seen in this hideous costume. I stalked the hallways, looking for either a stray stylist or some clothes I could steal.

The stray stylist showed up first. She (I think) was a sight with rainbow hair that stood a foot over her head and stiletto heels. Her lips thinned as she looked me up and down. “I see my fellow stylists are incompetent, as usual.”

I put on my best dramatic pleading expression: wide eyes, jutted out lower lip, hands clasped. “Please, you’re the only one who can help me. I bet your costumes are much better!”

She scoffed. “Begging doesn’t look good on you, dear.” Pause as I fix my face. “So, what would you want me to do about it?”

I winked, instead going for a jovial approach. “I bet you are better than my stylist. Would you happen to have something that would catch the crowd’s eye? It doesn’t have to be related to my district.”

“Of course it doesn’t.” She looked me up and down again and sighed. “You’re in luck. My district doesn’t want my idea anyway. How do you feel about pirates?”

I grinned. I was a pirate. “That sounds fabulous.”

She ushered me over to an empty changing room, and she commenced with getting me ready all on her own. It was a whirlwind, and she ran out afterwards, yelling that she had to go save my district mate from the same fate.

I grinned at my reflection. Much better. A black, slightly low cut tank top; skin-tight, black pants; knee-high, black lace up boots; a white coat that fastened around my neck so I didn’t have to put my arms through the sleeves; and a white tricorn hat. She had rushed an explanation that in the lights of the loading area and chariot presentation area, the white hat and coat would shine pastel rainbow colors. Just the right amount of flashy without being gaudy. I was ready now.

I wandered over to the chariot loading area, and just a few minutes after I arrived, Volt Powell and Atwater (I refused to call him by his first name for some reason) walked in dressed in the glorious costumes of a hen and a rooster. Shit. I probably would have looked similar. I shook with silent laughter until I could contain it and walked over to them with a grin. Aunt Reeves had known Volt and told me about her, and that Atwater fellow looked like he’d enjoy some mischief.

“Nice evening, isn’t it? I see some of us were more fortunate than others.”

Volt made a face. “You should be careful. Don’t want to waste your good fortune here, do you?”

I winked at her. “Ah, but I’d trade this costume a thousand times to stay near such a beauty.” I held out my hand. “Triel Reeves. District 10. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“Reeves, huh?” She shook my hand firmly. “Volt Powell, District 11.”

I would have to ask her about her plots with Aunt Reeves. “Hmm. I might have some questions for you soon. But I don’t want to neglect Mr. Atwater over here.” I whipped around to him. “I must say, I was impressed by the string of curses coming out of your mouth before the Capitol cut away. It’s funny. They are fine with sending fucking children to their deaths. But cursing, on the other hand, is the evilest of sins.” I held out my hand to Atwater.

“They cut it?” He raised an eyebrow as his eyes focused on me. “Damn. Another victim of the Capitol’s tyrannous censorship.” He shook my hand. “Guess I don’t gotta introduce myself.”

“You’re that memorable. And your handsome face doesn’t hurt either.” I winked again. “I have a proposal for both of you which involves destroying the Capitol’s tenuous hold on the idea that they control everything. Would you two be willing to hear it?”

Volt crossed her arms and watched me before she shrugged. “Why not? Go for it.”

Atwater looked a little interested. “I’m listening.”

“I have an airship and a genius engineer who can sneak said airship into the arena to get as many tributes as possible out of the arena without the Capitol’s consent.” I eyed Volt. “I’m sure you’re familiar with airships and the not-so-legal side of things, and you know the captain and crew who taught me everything I know. I would be thrilled if you are interested. And even more thrilled if you would assist me in causing some malicious mischief against the Capitol before the plan is executed.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Really? Sounds like a stretch, doesn’t it?”

Shit. I should have known this would happen, but it still hit me like a blow to the stomach. But I forced my smile to not falter, even though my voice was shakier. “I’ve researched the Capitol and the arenas of the past. I even was able to get some information on blueprints for this arena from a reliable source. I-I even have a previous tribute on my side, and she knows all about what the Capitol throws at us in the arena.” Don’t think about how she basically told me to give up the last time I really talked to her. I cleared my throat. “I assure you, I have done everything I could to prepare. There won’t be any problems.”

“And what’s the catch?” Atwater’s voice was as smooth as silk, but there was something under it that didn’t sound so calm.

I shook my head. “Nothing! All I want to do is fuck with the Capitol and save people. Once we’re out of the arena, you can go wherever you want, no strings attached.” He snorted at that.

Volt sighed. “Trust me kid, just because you thought of everything doesn’t mean you really have.”

This was good practice for other dissenters. I just had to keep telling myself that as my hands grew clammy and I had to clasp them to stop them from shaking. “That may be true, but Captain Reeves made me work on improvising. I’ll be able to work with whatever happens.”

Atwater sounded pleasant when he spoke up. “I have only two questions. First: why the hell are you doing this? Second: how the fuck are you doing this? Specifically the escaping bit. They have force fields around the arena, by the way. And it’s guarded by a fleet of hovercrafts. In the middle of nowhere. And I’ve heard a nasty rumor they monitor what happens there on camera.”

Oh. I could answer those questions. “I’m doing this because I don’t particularly like the idea of children dying in the arena, and I’m planning on recruiting as many tributes as possible, and because I hate the Capitol and want to see them fail. Second, my engineer has already invented machines that make the airship invisible to both the eye and radars. And they’re almost finished with a machine that will disable the force field around the arena. The cameras on the inside will be tricky, but maybe there’s a hacker or two within the list of willing tributes. If not, we can always chuck as many cameras as we can so that they break.”

That was the best I could do at the moment, and they didn’t look like they hated the idea. I tipped my hat at them as we got called to board our chariots. “Please at least think about my offer. And possibly meet up with me during training so we can fuck with the Capitol.” I ran off before they could respond.

As the chariots started moving, I forced the brightest grin, and I waved at the crowd and blew kisses. Acting for them, I could do, but I still didn’t know if this plan would work. But what choice did I have? It had to work, or I would have doomed the people with me to death. And I wouldn’t let that happen.

During President Snow’s speech, I sat down and tipped my hat over my eyes as if I was sleeping. Fuck him because of all the lives he had ruined. I clasped my necklace tighter as the chariots rolled away.

#writeblr hunger games #writeblr

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ethereal-not-occult · 3 years

Text

patience and the mulberry

"With time and patience, the mulberry leaf becomes a silk gown."

Fandom: Good Omens Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens) Characters: Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale (Good Omens) Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Fluff and Angst, Character(s) of Color, Sericulture, silkworms, past religious trauma, but nothing bad happens in this fic I promise, mixed bookverse w/ TV elements, references to Chinese culture Notes: Originally written for the @goodomensfashionzine !

“I'll only be a minute, dear.” Aziraphale kissed Crowley's cheek as he opened the door of the Bentley. “You don't have to see me to the door if you don't want to.”

Crowley tightened his grip on the wheel. “Sure, angel. Sounds good to me.” The sibilants slid far too quickly past his clenched jaw, and he bit his tongue to stop the instinctive hiss from escaping.

Aziraphale gave him a sympathetic look, but shut the Bentley's door behind him and soon disappeared through the doors of the church. Once he was out of sight, Crowley slumped forward slightly, sliding his sunglasses up and rubbing at his eyes. A few deep breaths later, and he felt composed enough to exit the Bentley himself in blatant disregard for the “NO PARKING” sign on the curb.¹

[¹ Given his new job position (or lack thereof), lawbreaking was no longer a necessity, but old habits die hard.]

The bright afternoon sun made him wince a bit, and two robins in a nearby bush were getting frisky in a way he would never be able to unhear, but they made it easier to forget the distant wail of air sirens. Even standing out on the road, Crowley's skin prickled faintly with the remembered sting of consecrated ground.

He pushed the feeling aside and walked resolutely forward. Aziraphale was bound to take his sweet time as he mooned over the church's dusty old tomes, but Crowley had his own investigations to conduct while he waited. No rest for the wicked and all that.

The concrete pavement under his snakeskin shoes gave way to grass, and the tingling sensation in his soles faded. Soon he found himself at his intended destination—an Edenic grove of mulberry trees, clustered together in a ring in the church's backyard. He'd spotted them on the drive over and couldn't resist the temptation of a closer look.

Crowley wandered into the garden with a scrutinizing eye. They were young, for trees, but growing well despite their callowness. A particularly stocky sapling hardly flinched when Crowley gave it a token glare, much to his disappointment. Then again, outdoor plants were rarely as well-behaved as properly cowed houseplants. It seemed this attitude persisted even in ecclesiastic gardens such as these.

He cast a surreptitious glance over his shoulder, then reached a hand up into the tree's umbrella-like branches and tugged. The season wasn't quite right for fruits, but he still withdrew clutching a handful of dark ripe mulberries. Hardly apples, but his lips twitched upwards nonetheless. He plucked a berry from the pile and raised it to his lips.

“Zaoshang hao!”

Only a hasty miracle saved Crowley from choking as he jumped and swiveled around. Hovering right outside the churchyard was a middle-aged human, well-dressed and smiling pleasantly at him. Judging by her formal clothing and the Bible she carried, she was a part of the congregation, maybe even the priest herself. Crowley swallowed and stepped backwards.

“Ni shi jiaohui de xinshou ma?” the human called again, picking her way across the dewy grass in his direction. Crowley eyed the Bible she held, willing himself not to break out into hives.

“Um. Wo bu—er, no. I'm not new. Not here for church at all, actually.” He fidgeted and clasped his hands, still full of pilfered mulberries, behind his back. “Just waiting for someone.”

The human raised an eyebrow. “You're welcome to wait inside, if you like,” she said, also switching to English. “I reckon we still have biscuits left from the children's morning service—”

“No!” Crowley said too quickly, and perhaps too sharply. He winced. “I mean. That won't be necessary. I'd much rather stay out here, if it isn't too much trouble.”

The human gave him a Look. Crowley's cheeks heated and he averted his eyes, willing his sunglasses a few shades darker.

“Beautiful, aren't they?”

Crowley's head shot back up. The human had turned her back to him and was running a hand through the glossy green leaves of the nearest mulberry tree. Crowley could practically see the branches stretch out in delight beneath her touch, like a purring cat.

“Volunteers from our congregation take care of them,” the human continued, smiling at the young tree. “The kids here like raising silkworms, you see, and we welcome them to pick leaves from the trees each week to feed them.”

Silkworms. Of course. Despite himself, a hazy memory rose to the forefront of his mind: Sichuan, China, several hundreds of years ago. A family farm, weathered and cozy and oozing enough sheer goodness to make the average demon ill with it. Crowley wouldn't normally be caught dead in such a place, but he had owed a favour to the angel. His fingers twitched at the phantom memory of butter-soft silk fibres against his skin; long, winding threads that stretched out thin and fine, tangling so easily around his uncertain fingers. With this memory came the golden, moon-round face of a child he hadn't thought about in centuries, grinning toothily as they held out a box to him, a box filled with small pale larvae that wriggled among the spade-shaped leaves. “Zhe jiao can.”

Crowley forced himself to return to the present. The human was speaking to him.

“—waiting on Mr. Fell?” she asked.

Crowley blinked. Shook himself a little. “Yeah. He's helping out with the restoration of some old manuscript or other.”

The human smiled again. It was an unnervingly piercing expression. “I'm aware. I was the one who requested his help. Such a lovely man. Are you a friend of his?”

Crowley tensed. “His husband, actually.”

He braced himself, but the human only brightened. “Goodness, then you must be Mr. Crowley! Mr. Fell talks ever so much about you. Finally gone and tied the knot then, have you?”

Before Crowley could stammer out a reply, something dinged loudly, making him jump. The human pulled a phone out from her pocket and squinted at the screen.

“Sorry, I have to run back inside. But it was lovely meeting you, Mr. Crowley.” She stuck out a hand—thankfully not the one that had been holding the Bible—and after a brief hesitation, Crowley shook it. As quickly as she had arrived, the human disappeared from the garden, leaving Crowley alone and off-kilter amid a grove of mulberry trees.

---

Aziraphale emerged from the church around an hour later to find Crowley seated on the curb next to the Bentley, basking in the last rays of the afternoon sun as he scrolled through his phone.

“My dear,” the angel sighed. His joints creaked as he eased himself down to sit next to Crowley on the roadside. “Don't tell me you've been sitting here the entire time.”

“Nope,” Crowley said, popping the ‘p’. “I toured the gardens for a bit. Swiped some fruits, too. The mulberries aren’t half-bad, for a bunch of church plants, but they’ll need a good deal more threatening before they're really up to snuff.”

Crowley stopped when he saw Aziraphale chewing his lip, brow furrowed as he studied Crowley's face. Now it was Crowley's turn to sigh.

“Really, angel. It's fine. I was hardly bored.”

The expression didn't leave Aziraphale's face. A soft brown hand reached out and brushed aside stray wisps of hair from Crowley's forehead. The demon hadn't bothered to cut it since the Apocalypse-that-wasn't, and it was growing longer and more unruly by the day.

“I'm fine.” Crowley caught Aziraphale's hand and held it, carefully. He pressed his lips against the well-manicured fingers. “It was years ago, angel, and we both came out of it all right. You don't need to worry about me.”

Aziraphale still looked vaguely distressed as Crowley drew him close. With the sun setting behind him, framing his face and curly dark hair in a golden halo, he was the most beautiful thing Crowley had ever seen.

He kissed him then, right there on the road, in full sight of the church and probably Someone Else, too, if She happened to be watching at that particular moment. Once, he would've been terrified of such a public display, but he hadn't gone through hellfire and holy water to care anymore about what others thought of them.

As he helped Aziraphale into the Bentley, he noticed abruptly that the angel was carrying what appeared to be a shoebox, of all things, along with his usual camelhair coat.

“What on Earth is that?”

“Oh!” Aziraphale carefully pushed the box over to Crowley. “Mrs. Lao gave it to me once I'd finished with those manuscripts. She said it was a gift for you, actually. Have the two of you met before?”

Crowley stared down at the box, baffled. “We talked for a bit in the gardens just now, but I can’t imagine why…”

He trailed off, and his mouth dropped open as Aziraphale eased open the lid and beheld the contents with a raised eyebrow.

“Good heavens. Are those caterpillars?”

“Silkworms,” Crowley corrected automatically, leaning in for a closer look. There were so many of them, somehow both smaller and larger than he remembered, all white and wiggly and chomping away busily at the layers of mulberry leaves filling their box. None of them paid any attention whatsoever to their occult observers hovering above them.

“Why would she give you such a thing? Not that they aren't dear little creatures,” Aziraphale added hastily, glancing into the box, “but I doubt I have the means to keep them in the bookshop.”

“No need,” Crowley said before he could stop himself. “I can raise 'em in my flat.”

Aziraphale gave him a curious look. “You know how to care for these… insects?”

“Yeah.” Crowley gently shut the lid of the inhabited shoebox and curled a hand around the Bentley's stick-shift. “I've done something like this, before. I know what I'm doing.”

“If you say so.” Suddenly Aziraphale chuckled. At Crowley's affronted look, he demurred, “I'm not making fun, my dear. It's only that you still manage to surprise me, even after all these years.”

Aziraphale leaned in and pecked Crowley's cheek, making him blush red and sputter. Much to his disgruntlement, the Bentley chirped a light-hearted rendition of Haydn's Crazy Little Thing Called Love all the way home.

---

Crowley had spent the past eleven years co-parenting the Antichrist with Aziraphale.² They had faced this challenge head-on, and in his opinion, it hadn’t gone too shabbily. Now, without the threat of the Apocalypse hanging over his head, becoming a surrogate parent was far less daunting the second time around.

[² Even if young Warlock hadn't really been the son of Satan, it was the principle of the thing.]

Still, Crowley worried. He had always been something of a worrier, and that hadn't changed even after the First Day of the Rest of Their Lives.

After dropping off Aziraphale at the bookshop, Crowley returned to his flat, where he commenced the preparations for introducing his unexpected twenty-odd guests to their new home. This was accomplished by miracling up a small glass aquarium onto his desk, lining the bottom with paper towels, and carefully (read: nervously) placing the silkworms one by one into the tank. Once this was done, Crowley scattered the half-eaten mulberry leaves from the box around the aquarium. The silkworms set upon their interrupted lunch with all the enthusiasm of Aziraphale devouring a meringue pie at the Ritz.

Crowley slumped into his chair, took off his sunglasses with a wince, and rested his chin on his desk, staring into the glass tank.

“I raised your ancestors once, you know,” Crowley informed the wriggling creatures. “Tiny farm in China several centuries back. We'd weave branches together into a tray and let you loose inside. Bit like how manmade beehives work, or something.”

Crowley paused. Watched one silkworm slowly inch its way across a stem to tackle a new section of leaf. “‘Course, humans use wire mesh nowadays, but the general premise is the same. Always thought it was bloody clever, what humans could come up with. If you gave me a bunch of moth larvae and told me to make a living out of them, I definitely wouldn't think to make clothes.” He snorted. “Whoever came up with that, I'd like a glass of whatever they were drinking.”

The silkworms munched on. They ate much faster than they crawled, that was certain. In the quiet walls of his flat, away from prying human eyes, Crowley loosened the knot of his silk tie and tugged it off, easing the tightness around his neck.

“You're the ones who made this, in a sense,” he said, waving the tie at them. He laid the tie beside one glass wall of the tank at just the right angle for the inhabitants within to see. Several silkworms looked up curiously.

Crowley tossed his suit jacket aside, then unbuttoned his shirt collar. He had always prided himself on his sharp, modern attire over the years, the better to tempt humans with—or so he claimed. Despite repeated scoldings from his superiors, his Lust quotas had never been quite up to par.

Sufficiently dishevelled, and feeling all the freer for it, Crowley sank back into his chair to watch the silkworms.

“The only thing I didn't like about the process was the boiling,” he murmured. “Logically, I can see why it was done. And you would all be in cocoons, so it's not like you'd be in any pain. Not like I was.” He exhaled, the sound becoming a low hiss. “But still. Never liked it. Always felt like an awful lot of trouble just for the sake of some silk threads.”

One particularly adventurous silkworm had nosed its way upwards and was now creeping over the edge of the tank opening. Crowley made a mental note to devise a lid of some kind and stuck his finger against the lip of the tank. The silkworm crawled onto his hand without any hesitation. Tentatively, he drew it closer. Its many feet stuck stubbornly to his skin, and it reared up as he approached, swaying slightly, its mandibles twitching.

Crowley stared at the silkworm. The silkworm stared back, and seemed disappointed when Crowley had nothing else to offer. Just to prove it wrong, Crowley materialized a single large mulberry leaf in his other hand and presented it to the insect, who fell upon it with gluttonous enthusiasm.

Staring at the miracled leaf, an idea formed in Crowley's mind. He smiled, slowly.

“I need a hobby, now that I'm jobless,” he said aloud to the silkworm, letting it creep onto his palm. He ran a careful finger over its smooth back. “I think I'll take up sericulture again, for old time's sake.” He reached back into the tank and gently encouraged the silkworm to crawl back inside.

“Humans have to boil you alive to get those nice unbroken threads off your cocoons,” Crowley mused, withdrawing his hand. “Fortunately, I don't have to do things the human way.” He lowered himself until he was eye-level with the inhabitants of the tank. The silkworm he had carried paused in its perpetual eating and turned its head, almost like it was looking at him.

“How's this?” Crowley asked. “You'll be able to grow into a fuzzy, fully grown silk-moth, and I can take your cocoon after you've finished with it and miracle the threads whole again.” He paused and mulled it over. “I guess I could take it a step further and just miracle the finished silk together, but there's still something to be said about the human way of doing things.”

The silkworm bobbed the front half of its body as though in agreement. Crowley smiled again.

“We can make silk, and no one gets hurt. I'm a few hundred years out of practice, but I'm sure I could make it work, somehow.”

The silkworm turned its attention back to its meal. Crowley didn't notice. He was too busy wondering if Aziraphale had any old texts on silk-weaving that he could borrow, just so he could refresh his memory.

The angel would appreciate having a new silk bowtie to add to his collection.

---

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