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snackhobi · 4 years ago

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pairing: taehyung x reader / word count: 13.3k / genre: fluff, friends to lovers, smut (NSFW, 18+)

summary: you’re used to being in love with taehyung. you’ve had a lot of time to get good at it, after all—by this point you’re the world’s expert at keeping your less-than-platonic feelings hidden from him, what with the amount of practice you’ve had.

but then he signs up for a massage therapy course, because apparently you can never catch a break.

or: the one where taehyung gives you a full body massage and then some.

warnings: sexually explicit content, massage with a happy ending (literally 🤧), cursing, edible massage oil/lube, fingering (f), unprotected sex (be safe when you have sex please), multiple orgasms (f), oral sex (m), cum swallowing, pet names, body worship?, brief mention of shower sex

a/n: I swear this was meant to be pwp. this was literally meant to just be pwp with some massage shenanigans. and then I blinked and it had become a soft 13k fic which honestly… kicked my ass quite a bit. but I hope you enjoy it!! thank you as always to @hobi-gif for beta reading this and encouraging me and putting up with me changing this multiple times, what would I do without your support miss hope?

Taehyung goes through a lot of different phases.

He just finds so many things interesting. Photography, art, art history, music, fashion, thrift shopping; heck, there was even the time he got weirdly into making tea and became some sort of connoisseur, going through the whole rigmarole of buying the loose leaves and weighing them out, checking the temperature of the water, brewing for a precisely measured amount of time.

You still remember the look on his face when you said it all tasted like hot leaf water to you.

Because, of course, as one of Taehyung’s best friends and his roommate, you’re inevitably swept up in everything he does. You’re used to the weirdly acrid smell of photo development fluid and how cold dark rooms can get. You use phrases like chiaroscuro and sfumato to describe the simplest things after listening to Taehyung do the same for so long. You’ve lost count of the amount of times you’ve tripped over his saxophone case when he leaves it lying around the apartment. You regularly wear the baggy t-shirt with the face that Taehyung had painted on it—even if you still refer to it as the Squidward-House-Shirt despite the fact you know he was inspired by Basquiet and Schiele and not the Easter Island themed stone head that Squidward lives in.

You don’t mind getting dragged along with whatever he does, honestly; you don’t have time to attend every class, but go with him when you can. It’s always good to expand your horizons. You also love watching Tae’s face whenever he learns something new, the various expressions that flit across his features—from wide eyed excitement and eyebrow raising astonishment to the more solemn side that appears whenever he’s taking something in and thinking deeply about it, turning it over in his mind, mulling on it.

(You love watching Tae’s face all the time, actually, but that’s a whole other can of worms you’d rather keep shut.)

However, the latest course he’s signed up for is not one you’d been expecting.

“Massage therapy?” Your face twists in equal parts confusion and surprise.

Taehyung’s dropped this latest nugget of information while you’re cooking, trying to fry some rice while also peering at the phone screen that’s been thrust into your face. You’re not bad at multitasking, per se, but Taehyung’s iPhone is drifting so close that you’re almost cross-eyed and it’s blocking you from seeing what’s going on in the pan.

“I had a coupon,” he says, as if that explains everything. (It doesn’t.)

“Scooch,” you say, and he immediately moves so you can turn the gas off.

“Jiminie and Jungkookie say that my massages help with dance, and that's just from Youtube tutorials.” Taehyung continues to talk as you bustle around the tiny kitchen. He’s already set the table so now he’s free to watch you finish doing the rest of the work. “And Joon-hyung says I have the perfect hands for it.”

You fumble with the pan as you’re scooping the steaming rice into a large bowl, only just managing to save food from scattering everywhere. You’ve thought about Taehyung’s hands a lot, about how large and long fingered and beautiful they are, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Really? Huh. That’s nice.” You stare at the pan, fixated on getting every grain of rice so you can avoid looking at Taehyung’s face. And hands. Which are still cupped around his phone. Which looks so small in his big, pretty grip.

Jesus Christ.

“It means I can give you massages if you ever start to get tense.” Taehyung sounds pleased, lovely grin on his face at the prospect of being able to rub his hands over you. As if that isn’t going to make every single one of your muscles lock up and turn you into some sort of coiled rope of a human being, which is the complete opposite of what a massage is supposed to achieve.

“Great.” Despite your inner turmoil, your voice is level and steady as you meticulously scrape the last grain of rice into the bowl, chasing the tiny fleck of white around the huge pan. Scrape, scrape, scrape. “Sounds fabulous. Can’t wait.”

Of course Taehyung would sign up to learn something that he could use to help his friends. He’s so big-hearted and loving. Big-hearted and loving and kind and funny and affectionate and beautiful and deep-voiced and so entirely overwhelming in every single way imaginable.

You do what you always do when confronted yet again with your all-consuming crush—you bottle that shit the fuck up until he’s not in the room.

And then you have a miniature breakdown at Pickles.

“I am going to die,” you whisper-scream. “He’s going to offer to massage me and he’s going to get a bottle of massage oil out and he’s going drizzle it onto his massive hands and I am going to fucking die.”

The bearded dragon cocks his head as he stares at you. Taehyung had come home with the reptile one day, tank and all, saying that someone on Facebook had been giving him away because they were moving house and could they just look after him for a little while, please, pretty please? Until they found a good home for him? Please?

That was over a year ago. (You’ve always been bad at saying no to Taehyung.)

“I hate my life,” you lament to the lizard, but then you hear the noisy flush of the toilet and know that Taehyung is going to emerge from the bathroom soon, so you have to wrap this miniature meltdown up pronto. “I wish I was a bearded dragon too, you know. All you do is get fed and sit under the heat bulb. Your life is so easy. You don’t even know what capitalism is.”

The silence you get from Pickles is far more support than you get from your human friends once you tell them. Yoongi just raises his eyebrows while Seokjin and Hoseok laugh outright in your face, just like they always do when you cry to them about Taehyung.

You need new friends. These ones are defective. (If only you’d kept the receipt so you could return them.)

“We learned how to do neck and shoulder massages today!” Taehyung says brightly after the first session.

You hum in response. You’re rewatching Pacific Rim together, cuddled up against Taehyung’s side, and you don’t have to turn your head to know what expression is on his face. There’ll be that little upturn to his lips, happiness at learning something new. That warmth in his eyes at being able to share it with you, even if you couldn't be there with him. Those little freckles on his face, under his eye, his nose, his lip; the one you’ve imagined kissing more times than you can count.

“My teacher says I have a natural talent with my hands,” he adds, and you’re so grateful that you can blame your sudden intake of breath on the scene that’s playing on the screen, as high stakes as it is.

“That’s nice,” you say, and mentally pat yourself on the back at keeping the strain out of your voice. You've had a lot of practice at this. “I’m not surprised, though. You’ve always been good at doing things with them.”

That’s not a euphemism. Taehyung’s always so careful when he makes things; you’d learned how to fold different origami patterns together, matching crane for crane, lotus for lotus, and he’d always been so delicate with his fingers. He’s always so careful and considerate with you, too, fingers splayed wide across your shoulder as he squeezes you closer to his side, leaving you breathless.

“I wish you could come too.” Taehyung sounds disappointed. “We always have so much fun together.”

For the first time in your life you’re grateful that your manager at Olive Chicken is such a hardass and won’t let you swap shifts, so you’d had to miss signing up for the massage course with Taehyung—because you know there’s no way you’d be able to keep it together if there was some sort of tandem practice in class or whatever. Your crush on him is filled with equal parts of tenderness and lust and you’re well aware of that. You’d rest your hands on the soft skin of Taehyung’s shoulders and back, the lust would overwhelm you, and you’d immediately burst into flames like some sort of demon stepping over the threshold of a church.

Why oh why did God have to make Kim Taehyung so hot?

Why oh why did God have to make you so… not?

You know Taehyung doesn’t see you in a romantic light at all. You’re grateful for this deep, platonic relationship you have, and you love him to pieces, but holy hell is it hard to walk around with Kim Taehyung looking the way he does and wanting to jump his bones while simultaneously being aware that it’s never going to happen. Whenever he smiles at you, or touches you, or holds you, it’s in exactly the same way as he treats any of his friends—and as happy as you are to be one of those friends, it also kind of kills you inside.

(Because you know you don’t have a chance, have never had a chance, and will never have a chance.)

The idea of offering to massage Taehyung is one that makes you want to melt into a puddle of horny goo. But when he offers to massage you, it’s because you’re a convenient practice partner who he’s comfortable with. It’s no big deal. You could strip naked and slather yourself up in oil and stand in front of him with your bosoms heaving and say ‘Have at me, big boy’ and Taehyung would say: ‘Sweet! A chance to practice deep tissue massage! Gee, thanks for being such a great pal!’

The kind of deep tissue you want Taehyung to massage is very different to whatever he’s talking about.

… Anyway.

You manage to avoid Taehyung using his apparently magic fingers on you for a surprising amount of time, though you’re kept up to date with his progress, because he shares everything with you and tells you about everything and you always, always listen. Because, more than being your crush, he’s one of your best friends and you love him.

Which is why you try your best to be gentle, graciously refusing his offer of a shoulder massage after he sees you wincing, even if with anyone else you’d just tell them to back off with zero hesitation.

“It’s fine,” you say, flapping a hand at him. “I just slept on it funny.”

“A massage would help! It won’t take long, I promise. Five minutes? Please?”

Taehyung’s looking at you with those big puppy eyes of his, pleading. You waver. You’re torn between being steadfast and avoiding a situation you’ve literally had nightmares about (Taehyung had offered to massage you, and you’d said yes, but then you’d fallen over as you were walking to him and suddenly a lasagne had appeared in your hands and you’d spilled it all down your shirt and he’d pointed and laughed and laughed and you’d felt so embarrassed that you’d woken up, cheeks burning), but then he pouts and you give in like the spineless and lovesick fool that you are.

“Five minutes,” you say, and Taehyung nods emphatically, looking pleased.

(You have the backbone of a chocolate éclair.)

You send quiet thanks to whatever God is listening when he doesn’t ask you to take your top off and doesn’t break out a bottle of scented oil. Instead he just asks for you to straddle a chair, clutching a plushie against your chest to cushion where it leans against the backrest, and tells you to get comfy.

“Just relax,” he says, as you desperately try to remember how your body works and coax it to relax like Taehyung wants you to. You fail miserably. You feel like a ball of rubber bands, each muscle a layer of tighter and tighter elastic that’s circled around you. “Lean forwards a little?”

At least Taehyung can’t see your face from this angle. You have no idea what sort of expression is twisting your features; consternation and horrified anticipation, probably. You're basically throttling your plushie, taking out your tension and frustration on the poor thing, Rilakkuma's placid face morphing into a twisted expression of sympathy under your grasping fingers.

“Perfect,” Taehyung says. The sound of praise in his deep voice has your insides turning into overheated syrup, hot and thick, dripping down and pooling between your legs. You hate yourself. Getting turned on by the most innocuous words from your best friend, really? Get it together.

The second you feel Taehyung's warm hands touch the back of your neck, your shoulders hunch up faster than a whiplash, a turtle sucking its head into its shell. Your friend laughs.

“This is the opposite of relaxing,” he says, voice warm with amusement.

“You surprised me.” You dig your nails into Rilakkuma's soft brown fur. Taehyung just thinks you're not used to being massaged, not that you're being weird because it's him that's touching you. Because he touches you a lot. He’s just never done it like this. “Sorry.”

“It's fine,” he replies, unruffled and oblivious. “Let me try again?”

You bite your lip, desperately trying to quell the mix of arousal and tension that’s churning in your stomach, begging your muscles to unwind. You’ve kept your crush a secret from him for this long, you can keep that energy up. (You have to keep that energy up.) “Um. Okay.”

You’re still tense when Taehyung puts his hands on you again. The touch is warm through your clothes, firm but careful, digging into the sharp line of tension laid across your shoulders; despite the way your heart is threatening to launch itself out of your chest, you start to loosen up, because holy shit that feels nice, actually.

You melt against Rilakkuma and smother the bear's face in your chest. “Your teacher wasn’t kidding when they said that you’re good with your hands,” you mumble.

You’ve never gotten a proper massage before but it feels so damn good that you can’t help but unwind, turning to jelly at the confident presses of Taehyung’s fingers and palms into the soft skin between your neck and shoulder. A little sigh spills past your lips when Taehyung starts to work at the part that’s been twinging after you lay crookedly on it, limbs akimbo in your sleep after a long night at work. “Oh, right there, Tae.”

Taehyung goes still for just a second before continuing, trailing his fingers over your shirt. “Here?”

Your eyes have drifted shut so you can focus on the sensation of that tension being pulled out of your body. “Yeah, right there,” you repeat, massaged into a state of lazy euphoria. The breath you let out is long and deep, catching in the back of your throat at a particularly firm rub of Taehyung’s hands; if you weren’t so blissed out you might be embarrassed at how much the noise you make is like a moan, but as it is, you don’t even notice. You just let out a little sound of discontent when Taehyung’s fingers stutter in their motions, displeased that he’s stopped even for a second.

By the time the massage is over, you’re so relaxed that you feel like you could melt into the floor, a wobbly puddle of unwound muscles and loose limbs. It’s official. You’re a massage convert.

“Holy shit.” Your eyes flutter open as you lean away from Rilakkuma so you can turn around. They’re the first coherent words you’ve spoken for a while; small sighs and sounds have been dripping from your lips and it’s only now that you’re able to regain your breath. “Tae, that was amazin—”

You’re met with the sight of Taehyung’s back as he power walks away, steps rapid, a little shaky, awkward. Before you can ask what’s wrong, he’s stepping into the bathroom.

“I need to wash my hands,” he says without looking at you, before the door slams shut.

You don’t remember Tae telling you about how quickly you have to wash your hands after finishing a massage. But, thinking about it, you suppose it makes sense—you know, with massaging multiple clients or whatever—even if it’s surprising exactly how fast he’d hoofed it away from you. It sounds like he’s switched both taps on full blast as well, noisy even through the wooden door, and judging from how long he’s in there, he’s being very thorough. Hand washing must be a lot more important than you’d realised.

Once Taehyung emerges, his face is a little flushed, cheeks a soft red. You wonder if the hot water tap is playing up again and filling your dinky bathroom with hot steam, and make a mental note to look into it. You smile at Taehyung from your perch on the sofa, Rilakkuma plopped on your lap, smile spread across your features; one that Taehyung returns, as pink-faced as he is.

“How’s your shoulder feeling?”

“So much better, honestly,” you admit. It’s incredible. He hasn’t even finished the course yet and he's already this good. He really does have magic hands.

“I’ll have to give you massages more often,” Taehyung says, though the end of the sentence trembles a little. He must be light-headed after all the steam in the bathroom.

The thought of more massages doesn’t fill you with as much mind-numbing trepidation as it might have earlier, utterly languid as you flop across the sofa, muscles uncoiled after the lovely touch of Taehyung’s even lovelier hands. No wonder people rave about spa days if they leave you feeling like this. Maybe if you’d been staring at Taehyung in the eye when he’d been touching you, then you’d feel a lot more awkward—as it is, it’s no worse than usual. Your crush is still all-encompassing but you also got a massage out of it, so.

“Sounds great.” This time you don’t even have to fake your excitement. “Now come sit your butt down so we can order some takeout and decide what to watch.”

When you bend down to speak to Pickles later, the bearded dragon is lolling on his favourite branch. “There’s still a high chance that I’m going to die,” you say in a low voice, before you flick the lights off so the lizard can sleep. “But he hasn’t broken out the oils yet, so I think I’ll be okay for now.”

Your luck doesn’t last.

“Strawberry and champagne, lychee martini, mint mojito, white chocolate, or tropical coconut?”

You look up from where you’re painting your toenails. “Huh?”

Taehyung bundles into the room and throws himself onto your bed, flopping on his belly and ignoring the way the mattress is jostled. You, of course, are used to his antics, which is why you’d swept your open bottle of nail polish up before he could spill it everywhere.

“What do you think sounds best?”

“Well, that depends,” you say, squinting at your toes and carefully sweeping the polish over the freshly buffed nails. “For candles, I think they sound pretty nice. For sauces to pour over a steak, I’d say I’d give them all a hard pass. What’s it for?”

“Massage oils,” Taehyung says blithely, too busy staring at his phone to see you muffle a curse when your hand slips and you paint your entire little toe blue. “I was wondering which you think sounds best.”

“Oh. Uh.” You fumble to clean your toe and salvage the now-terrible pedicure you’re trying to give yourself. It was only a matter of time before massage oils were going to become part of your life. Taehyung never goes into things half-hearted, so of course he’s going to invest in oils, too. God’s sake. You can never catch a break, can you? “Why these ones in particular?”

Taehyung pauses for a suspiciously long time, but it gives you the chance to furiously rub at your toe while he’s distracted. “We get a free bottle from the course,” he says eventually.

Huh. Okay. “That’s pretty neat. What was the last one? Coconut? Stick with the basics, can’t go wrong with that, right?”

“Coconut is always tasty,” Taehyung comments absently, and you glance up from your Smurf toe.

“Agreed, but it’s not like you’re about to eat massage oil, are you?”

Taehyung pauses, and then buries his face into his phone screen—suddenly very intent on rereading the list of ingredients in each bottle, it seems. “No, of course not, you’re right,” he mumbles.

He’s almost finished the course. He’s not going to be an accredited masseuse or anything, but you definitely think he could be, if he wanted to—you’ve never had less tension in your shoulders and neck in your life. Taehyung always eases his way into your personal space anyway, casual and effortless after years of friendship, but now you’re used to his fingers sliding over the back of your neck, a gliding touch, sending tense little goosebumps over your skin while simultaneously making you melt.

“It’s pretty cool that you get free stuff, though.” Your toe is clean, thankfully, no longer blue. “And not just, like, a generic bottle of oil or something. They all sound really fancy. I didn’t realise that you could get massage oils that were scented like that?”

Taehyung makes a non-committal noise, which is uncharacteristic of him, but you’re too focused on repainting your final nail to pay it too much mind, letting out a loud huff of triumph when you’re done.

“Get me a bag of shrimp crackers, please?” You have a sudden craving but you don’t want to penguin waddle to the kitchen and risk getting anything on your wet nails. “Ya girl is hungry.”

“Got it.” Taehyung rolls off the bed without protest. You’re used to his antics, and he’s used to yours, indulging you whenever you feel lazy or want him to do something for you. “You need me to feed you?”

“I wasn’t going to use my toes to feed myself,” you laugh, but Taehyung ends up feeding them to you anyway.

When you recount the list to Seokjin later, his face crumples in a way that’s equal parts offended and disgusted. “They all sound terrible,” he says. “White chocolate should stay in chocolate form and not be turned into an oil. Why does massage oil even have to smell like anything?”

You’re both holed up in the tiny smoking nook behind Olive Chicken; neither of you smoke, but it’s a good excuse to go outside and get fresh air during longer shifts.

“Hey, don’t ask me, I’m not the one who’s taking the course. I think lychee martini sounds interesting, though.”

“Agree to disagree.” Seokjin unwraps one of the complimentary chocolates the restaurant gives to diners with their bill, swallowing it whole. “Besides, we all know Taehyung could approach you with dirty, used fryer oil and you’d let him dip you in it.”

You slap the next chocolate out of his hand before it reaches his mouth. He’s unmoved and simply plucks another from his pocket, which is apparently bulging with them.

“Yoongichi,” Jin says, calling to the delivery boy, who’s just appeared from the dark like some tired-eyed spectre of fried chicken. “Tell me this. If I were to ask you what smell of massage oil you’d prefer, what—”

“I would say that I really could not care less.” Yoongi flops down on one of the rickety fold-out chairs before silently accepting a chocolate from Seokjin’s stash. “And then I’d ask why you’re asking me in the first place, seeing as you’re the one using it, not me. If Taehyung’s asking what massage oil you’d prefer, Y/n, it’s because he wants to rub it all over you specifically.” Yoongi munches on the chocolate, already filling in the blanks without needing to be told the context. You really are that transparent, huh. “Please, we’ve been over this.”

Jin pouts. “You ruined my set up. I had a whole speech prepared.”

“Oh no.” Yoongi remains blank-faced. “How terrible.”

“I hate both of you,” you say. “I’m going to tell Pickles how mean you are.”

“I bet if that lizard could talk, he’d tell you how tired he was of you two dancing around each other, just like the rest of us,” Yoongi says.

There’s no dancing around, though, no matter what your friends say. Well. Not on Taehyung’s end anyway. You’re out here doing the fandango, castanets and all, while Taehyung just stands stock still, oblivious.

You let out an incredibly long sigh. Seokjin hands you a sympathetic chocolate.

The massage oil doesn’t make an appearance in your life for a little while, though. The end of the course comes and goes, Taehyung proudly flapping the laminated certificate at you, wobble-wobble-wobble, filling the apartment with the sound of rippling plastic. But no coconut oil.

The scent of ‘tropical coconut’ has started to haunt your dreams, in a way that’s both good and bad; when you wake up in a sweat, heart pounding, it’s not because you’re having nightmares, let’s just put it like that. It’s like there’s an invisible countdown that you can’t trace and it’s only a matter of time before it ticks over and the shoulder massages (that you’ve gotten very comfortable with) edge into something different. Taehyung’s going to innocently offer to give you a backrub and uncap that bottle of scented oil and you’re going to explode into a mess of putty under his hands.

Well… then again… you had been worried about that with all the shoulder rubs. Now look at you. You weather those like a champ. Sure, your skin tingles and you run hot and you think about the sensation of Taehyung’s hands gliding over you whenever you’re alone, but you’re basically fine. Your friend who just so happens to also be the great love of your life remains none the wiser.

You bet a full back rub would feel great after a long week.

Which is why when Taehyung steps into the apartment with a look on his face that you immediately recognise as tiredness, you sort of wish you knew how to massage people, too.

He falls into your arms with little fanfare. It’s been one of those days, one of those ones that everyone gets, even Taehyung—he’s usually so Switched On and Exuberant and Alive, and people don’t seem to realise that even he feels exhausted, sometimes.

“You alright, bubs?” You can’t massage him but you can rub his back soothingly, let him snuffle against your neck. Sometimes you think about that little space between your chin and collarbones as Taehyung’s, a hollow that’s perfect for him to press his face into, hair tickling your chin as he curls up into you. His and his alone. “Did something happen?”

He just shakes his head.

“Okay,” you say.

(Close proximity and skin on skin with Taehyung doesn’t always have your pulse rising and your heart racing. Sometimes it’s just this: quiet and soft, your heart bright with fierce affection for this boy, the only thought in your mind that you want him to be happy, forever.)

The long silence is broken by the sound of Taehyung heaving in a breath before letting out a long, exhausted sigh.

“Thank you.” His voice is quiet and low, far less energetic than his usual self.

“Nothing to thank me for, Tae,” you reply. “Always here for you. You know that, right?”

He doesn’t respond straight away. He just burrows closer, draped over you, until he murmurs, barely audible. “Why?”

Your face twists. “Why, what? Why am I always here for you?”

“Yeah.” Taehyung squeezes himself impossibly closer, skin warm against yours, forehead pressed to the skin of your neck. You can’t see his expression from this angle.

“Because you’re one of my best friends and I love you,” you answer, immediately. You don’t even have to think about it. “Because you’re important to me and if there’s anything I can do for you, I will. I’ll celebrate the good things in your life with you, and I’ll be at your side during the bad times, just like you are with me. Please don’t ever forget how much I love you, okay?”

There’s a pause, and then it feels like all the tension leaves Taehyung’s body, slumping his whole body weight against you. “Okay,” he murmurs. “I love you too. Thank you,” he says again. You just reply by squeezing his shoulders.

He’s a little quieter for a few days after that. You’re not sure why, because he’d perked up after a lazy evening of lying around and eating too many snacks, flopped against you like an oversized, clinging starfish—but you’re gentle with him nonetheless.

(Well. You’re always gentle with him. It just takes you half a second to fold in the face of his whims, rather than a whole, full second.)

So when the dreaded bottle of oil finally appears, you’re far less ready to fight off Taehyung’s insistence on a full body massage, caught off guard after days of indulging him. Fuck.

“You’ve had a long week!” Taehyung insists as you scrabble your way over the sofa’s backrest so you can hide behind it, clutching a cushion to your chest. “You need to relax!”

Without looking you fling the cushion over the sofa. Judging from the fact that Taehyung doesn’t make a sound, you’ve missed. “I was feeling perfectly relaxed until you started yelling at me about it! Why are you so obsessed with the idea of me being relaxed?”

Taehyung doesn’t respond. Oh, crap. Maybe you did hit him with the cushion?

You pop up from behind the sofa. Nope. It's an embarrassing distance away from Taehyung, who’s got that surprisingly large bottle of oil held loosely in his hands. There’s an expression on his face that you can’t decipher; a little crestfallen, a little unsure, but there’s something else there, too, something you can’t put a name to.

“Taehyung?”

“I just… wanted to help,” he says. “You’re always there for me when I’m not feeling great, and you calm me down, and I wanted to do the same for you.”

You immediately feel like the worst human being alive. Take the feeling you get whenever you accidentally step on an animal’s tail, multiply it by infinity, and that’s only just a drop in the ocean of awful, awful guilt that you’re drowning in.

“Oh, Tae,” you say. Your voice comes out so much softer and sweeter than you mean it to, but you can't help it. “I’m sorry. I was just joking. It’s really nice of you to be so concerned. You just surprised me. You do help me relax and your massages are great.” (You tell him that often enough that he should know it, but it never hurts to repeat a compliment.)

His face lifts. It’s like the sun bursting forth from the clouds after heavy rain, and you have to resist the urge to shield your eyes, blinded by the brightness and beauty. Kim Taehyung is so unfairly gorgeous (but what else is new?). “So I can give you a massage?”

Despite the fact the prospect makes you want to fling yourself into space, when you’re faced with Taehyung’s dark eyes and wide smile and large, warm hands, you cave, because of course you do. If, way back when you’d first been frying up that kimchi rice and letting Taehyung thrust his phone into your face, you’d been told you’d end up in this position, you would have laughed outright. Haha, yeah, sure, like you’d be stupid enough to let yourself be wrangled into such a vulnerable state in front of Taehyung, nowhere to run, helpless under his fingers. Not.

But here you are. Whipped for Kim Taehyung, forever and always.

The pastel blue towels under your stomach and chest are soft as they shield you from the cold, hard floor. You’re incredibly aware of how chilly the apartment feels, air prickling against your bare skin; you shift to try and get comfortable, glancing over your shoulder to fiddle with the towel that’s draped over your hips and ass, making sure it’s covering everything. Taehyung insists on authenticity (as if you’re not lying on the floor of your apartment rather than on a massage table) and he says that it’s normal to be completely naked for a full-body massage, even underneath any towels that are covering you up.

Authenticity is also why he’s in the other room, warming up the massage oil, because that’s apparently a thing?

(You’re going to die.)

It doesn’t matter that Taehyung will only be able to see the back of your head, your shoulder blades, the small of your back, a slip of your thighs, your calves. None of these things are especially scandalous; all the parts of your body that someone might find more interesting are out of sight, pressed against the floor or hidden under a layer of Egyptian cotton microfibres.

And yet you can’t help but be hyperaware of how you’re entirely unclothed. Even if it doesn’t bother Taehyung—what with, you know, the fact he’s not interested in you like that and doesn’t find you attractive at all (sigh)—embarrassment creeps hot and uncomfortable under your skin.

It just feels so crazy intimate to be laid out like this, even if people do this all the time, happily strip down to let professionals rub the tension out of their body.

(Then again, most people aren’t best friends with their masseuses and haven’t harboured long, one-sided crushes on them, either.)

Just breathe. You can do this. You love the shoulder massages that Taehyung’s been giving you; just think of this as a shoulder massage.

… A shoulder massage that involves warm oil, near-nakedness, and Taehyung’s hands sliding all over you.

… You are going to have a very long venting session with Pickles after all this.

You’re so distracted by your own self pity and distress that you don’t register the sound of Taehyung entering the room; the little pause when he steps over the threshold, feet stuttering, just for a moment. It’s only when he’s kneeling down that you notice his presence, body jolting from surprise before you let out a slip of high laughter.

“Jesus, Tae,” you say. In any other circumstance, you’d be clutching your chest. “You scared me.”

“Sorry.” He sounds genuinely apologetic.

Your cheek is pillowed on your arms. When you turn to look at your best friend you immediately regret it; he’s settled back on his ankles, knees spread wide, and you come eye-to-eye with his crotch.

In an effort to look away from his clothed dick, your gaze flies up to his face, which might be even worse. He has this intense look in his eyes, and wow, alright, you’ve never been able to see Taehyung’s face as he’s been massaging you, but you never realised exactly how seriously he seems to take it, judging from his expression.

(Do all massage therapists look like that when they work?)

“That’s alright.” You’re a little breathless, but you’re going to blame that on how your boobs are smooshed into the floor, and not on anything else, nuh uh. Shoulder massage. It’s a shoulder massage. It’s just like a full bodied shoulder massage. (Maybe if you repeat it to yourself often enough then you’ll actually start to believe it.) “Uh. Do you need me to… do anything? Or do I just lie here?”

Taehyung’s expression lightens a little at the uncertainty in your tone, smile curling up the corners of his mouth. “You’re perfect right where you are,” he says, and then he reaches for the bottle of oil.

You turn your head away again, cheeks burning. There’s no way you’ll be able to handle the visual of him slicking his fingers and palms up. “Cool,” you say, voice only a little strained. “Coolcoolcoolcool.”

(It’s not cool.)

You don’t have a visual, but you do get the auditory experience thanks to the relative silence in the apartment. Goosebumps ripple down the back of your neck and trail down your spine at the sound of Tae’s hands sliding against each other, thoroughly coated in the warmed oil, and you’re so glad that you can blame it on the chill in the air.

At first, it’s okay. Taehyung starts at the parts of your body that are used to receiving his attention, though it’s different without the barrier of clothing in the way, not to mention how easily his palms glide over you, the air full of the light scent of coconut. It’s different, but manageable, and you think you just might be okay; as always, his touches are firm but careful, and your body is used to this by now, relaxing.

But. The second you feel Taehyung’s touch between your shoulder blades, you stiffen with a shiver. The oil is the perfect temperature against your skin, but you’ve always had a sensitive back; you can’t help but clench your fists, digging your fingers into your palms. Relax. Just breathe.

“You’ve got a lot of tension here.” Taehyung’s voice is low as he digs the heel of his palm into the dip of your spine.

It’s because you’re touching me there, you think to yourself, but just let out a non-committal hum of agreement instead.

You feel Taehyung's hands, a repeated sliding motion between your shoulder blades; the tension starts to leak out of you again, but your breath hitches in your throat at how you're pressed downwards and into the cotton towels beneath you, nipples hardening against them.

Thank God you're on your front so Tae can't see what effect he's having on you.

“Better?”

Taehyung's voice is always deep, but you'd swear it was even deeper in this moment, pitched low. Maybe that’s because the sound of blood pumping is filling your ears so it’s hard to discern. At this point, who even knows? Not you, that’s for sure.

“Yep.” Why are you so breathless? You haven’t moved at all, but you sound like you’ve just run the 100m sprint, winded and weak. “So much better.”

You regret agreeing to this. You are so out of your depth and there’s no way you’re going to be able to hide exactly how much this is affecting you and you want to collapse in on yourself and shrivel up like a sundried tomato, tiny and wrinkly and underwhelming.

Taehyung shifts to reach more of you and you squeeze your eyes shut so you don’t come face first with his crotch again, shielding yourself from the view of his loose linen trousers stretched almost taut with how wide his knees are. It’s both a blessing and a curse—a blessing because you’re saved from aforementioned view, but a curse because your sensation of touch is heightened, and all you’re aware of is his hands sliding down your sides. You’d swear those fingers were so long he could circle your waist with ease.

(Massages are meant to relax you and yet you’ve never felt so tense in your life.)

Taehyung clicks his tongue against the back of his teeth. “I can’t get a good angle like this,” he mutters.

Before you can think anything or say anything, you become aware of the sound of moving and shifting and—

Your eyes fly open. Taehyung’s straddling your thighs, heavy and warm, and you suck in a breath so sharp and fast you can feel your chest expand, brain full of the screaming clang of warning bells. There’s no way this is a normal masseuse thing. There’s no way. It’s intimate and entirely too physical and there’s absolutely no way that this is something Taehyung learned in class.

(What is he doing?)

But then any coherent thought in your brain slips when his hands settle on you again.

They so, so lightly brush the hem of the towel that preserves your modesty, and you can’t help the full-body shiver that wracks through you. You suck your lips into your mouth, swallowing down the noise that threatens to bubble up in your throat. There’s the sensation of fingers trailing up the line of your spine, feather light, smoothed by the slide of oil, and you feel like molten lava, burning hot and bright.

“Taehyung.” Your voice is high and faint.

His fingers splay down your ribcage and run down your sides, confident and smooth, warm with that coconut-scented oil, and you’re dying, you’re living; you want to disappear, you never want this to end.

“Taehyung,” you repeat. Your voice shakes.

He hums, low and indulgent. “Yes?”

“M-my thighs,” you stammer, unable to articulate yourself. Why are you on my thighs, oh God, you’re so warm and heavy on top of me, oh God oh God oh God.

Taehyung completely misunderstands you. “Oh? Of course.” He sounds nonchalant. “I’ll massage those next.”

You can feel the drag of his linen trousers against your skin as he moves down to rest on your calves, and hear the bottle open as Taehyung drizzles more oil over his hands, far more than he could possibly need. His palms feel so broad and warm against the smoothness of your thighs, touches firm and confident as he digs his fingers into the muscle, and, oh, fuck, this is, this is too much—

Your legs jump when Taehyung hitches the towel up, just a little, baring more of your body.

“Fuck.” You can't keep quiet any longer. “Tae, I’m fine, I’m feeling way less tense now.”

He’s still, for a moment, before his hands slide up the back of your thighs. “Are you sure? You want me to stop?”

It’s only then that you realise how deeply Taehyung is breathing, fast and low, voice rough and gravelled. His fingers rest in wait, warm and slick with oil; you’re so close to losing any modicum of modesty, only one motion away from that towel being rucked high enough that there’s nothing protecting you from Taehyung’s touch and eyes.

“I haven’t finished yet, though,” he continues, digging his thumbs into your skin as he pulls his hands down your thighs, mindlessly following the motions he’s been taught. “There’s still more to go.”

You could twist around to look at him but you’re almost afraid to look at his face, afraid of what you’d find there. He sounds as affected as you are, but there’s absolutely no way. There’s no way.

“You don’t need to do the whole massage if I’m feeling relaxed, right?”

(Because you’re feeling so relaxed right now, of course, and not like you’re about to go supernova and burst into heat and light. Absolutely.)

(But.)

(But. Taehyung’s hands settle at the back of your knees, swiping the sensitive skin with his thumbs. You can’t see his face, but you can feel something in that touch, something more than skin deep, like it’s sinking into you, through skin and muscle and bone, in in in, settling inside you, a flicker of—of—)

“Want to do this perfectly for you,” he murmurs. You clench your hands at the husky note in his voice, nails digging so hard into your palms it hurts. “You deserve the best. I want you to feel good.”

He must be able to see your back rise and fall as you breathe in sharply.

“Taehyung.” Almost pleading.

“Yes, love?”

You suck in another sharp breath. The pet name sounds so soft and sweet in his mouth, somehow, even with the heated edge to his voice. One that’s definitely there. You’re not imagining it.

(You’re not.)

“Do you want me to make you feel good?” he continues.

Before you can think, you nod.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Please.”

You’re trembling. Taehyung’s still heavy and warm across the back of your calves, sliding one hand to the inside of a knee and up the soft skin of your inner thighs. You instinctively shift them apart, as far as you can with Taehyung trapping your legs, and, oh, his hand is going higher, oh—

His hand is so big, cupping your overheated sex. It’s hard to tell where the oil ends and your own arousal begins, flushed wet and hot; when he dips his middle finger between your lower lips, long and gentle and firm, you let out a noise you didn’t realise you were capable of. The angle is off, a little awkward, the motions of Taehyung’s fingers stifled by how you’re lying flush to the ground, but God, you’re so turned on it barely matters.

You’re hyperaware of everything. The soft touch of air on the cooling oil across your skin. The fall of the towel, bunched around your waist, slowly slipping to one side. Taehyung’s hand, his fingertips easing through the heat of you, sliding over your clit, over your entrance, slow and soft and amazing.

“Again,” you plead. “Again, Tae, please.”

“Feels good?” He asks, and you squeeze your eyes shut as you nod, cheek still pillowed against your arm.

“So good,” you say. “But I want more, please, Tae.”

“Anything you want,” he murmurs.

Taehyung’s hand shifts between your legs again, so hot, so big, so reverent. The slide is smooth as his fingers press into your folds, practically gliding. You twist beneath him, letting out a noise of displeasure when he draws his hand away, but then he lifts off your calves. You let him thrust your legs apart before he resettles between them.

Just as you’re distracted with the towel being tugged away from your hips, baring you entirely, Taehyung slides a finger into your weeping cunt.

You whine. It's so long. Now that your calves aren’t trapped, there’s nothing to stop you from rutting back against his fingers. He splays his other hand over the soft flesh of your ass, encouraging the rolling motion of your hips, and you’re gasping, wanton in your noises of desire and pleasure. One finger becomes two, and then three, Taehyung’s voice a low undercurrent to your stuttered moans as he presses them as deep as he can.

“Just like that, angel,” he breathes. “Want you to feel good, keep making those pretty noises, let me know how good it is—”

“Taehyung,” you whine, dragging the syllables of his name out when he curls his fingers inside you, so amazing, hitting you in all the right places.

“Baby.” He sounds wrecked, words sliding together, and you haven’t even touched him yet. “You’re so hot n’ wet, fuck. So perfect. Just like that, keep moving like that.”

You can hear the slick sounds of his thrusts into you. He’s already learned what you like, twisting his fingers in a way that leaves you breathless; they’re so fucking long, sliding into your greedy cunt with ease, reaching so much deeper than your own can. His pretty lovely hands are on you, inside you, and you’re heady at the thought.

“There, Tae, don’t stop, please, p-please.” The coil twists tighter in between your legs, a taut thread that’s ready to snap. He listens, repeating the motion that’s pulling you closer to the edge, eyes wide, staring at the way you’re writhing underneath him; the way the oil on your back and legs shimmers in the light, the evidence of his touch all over you, shining. “Tae, oh, God, right there, yes, yes, yes—”

Your entire body goes tense and then you’re cumming around Taehyung’s fingers, clenching your thighs together, trapping him inside as you buck your hips. You grind back against his hand, a loud moan falling from your lips, drowning out the noise of awe that Taehyung makes when he feels your walls pulsate around him. You're warm and tight and wet, arousal flooding thick against his skin, and he lets out a stuttered groan, fingers buried knuckle deep inside you, feeling every wave of pleasure that rocks through your core.

You’re panting by the time you settle back down and barely make a sound when Taehyung drags his fingers out of you. When he leans down the oil on your skin feels tacky against his clothes, material sticking to you, chest to back, hips to ass. You can feel the hot curve of him through his trousers, his cock heavy, getting harder—and it feels sososo good.

Taehyung’s face is so close, now, chin hooked over your shoulder. Even though you can feel the hardness of his cock pressed against you, the smile on his face is so gentle. Your heart thrums in your chest.

“So cute n' pretty,” he says, and presses his nose to the soft curve of your cheek. Rather than coconut, all you can smell is his shampoo, familiar and homely and heady. “All over. God, I can’t believe you’d let me touch you like this. I’m so lucky. Was that good, baby?”

“Yes,” you say, and then, because you’re still floating in a light haze of disbelief: “I’m the lucky one.”

Taehyung laughs, low and quiet. It’s a honeyed moment, dripping slow and sweet, even sweeter when he tilts his head forward. His lips are soft against your cheekbone, your jaw, and when you turn towards him, they’re even softer against your mouth. You can feel the shape of his smile, and it tastes so bright, small kisses that turn open mouthed, so perfect. Because you’re kissing Kim Taehyung, your Taehyung, something you’ve been dreaming about for so long, now—even if this entire situation is pretty unbelievable, honestly.

When you pull back, his eyes spark with unadulterated joy. He’s warm and heavy, pinning you down against the towels that are soft against your front; arching your spine, you lean back against the weight of Taehyung’s body, his cock fattening up through the layers of clothes that separate you. He lets out a breath of surprise before he grinds down, pressing that hard heat against you, and your cunt clenches.

“Can I finish the massage?” He asks, sounding almost eager, even with the rasp of lust in his voice. You can’t help but laugh, an affectionate giggle that has you knocking your foreheads together.

“Of course,” you say, and he catches your lips again, swallowing the last of your laughter, sweeping his tongue over your lips, inside your mouth, wet and hot and a little messy, but good.

“You need to be on your back,” Taehyung continues, slow after the kiss is broken, and, oh, okay, that has you shivering. “If you want to?”

Of course you want to.

“Okay,” you whisper. “Let me move.”

He shifts to give you room, but not before pressing a kiss to the back of your neck, the bump of the top of your spine, lips sliding against the oil that he’d rubbed there earlier, goosebumps erupting over your skin.

“So good to me,” he whispers. You don’t think he even means for you to hear it.

(It’s said without thought; not thoughtless, no, but a soft little thing that says so much. A thought that’s slipped across his mind and fallen from his lips, warm and tender. Like you’re always good to him, and he sees it, he knows it, he feels it, he thinks it, and he’s almost in disbelief about it, because you’re so good to him.)

You feel warm and languid after cumming, loose-limbed as you flop onto your back. There’s no going back now. There’s no going back from this moment, naked and vulnerable under Taehyung, nothing hidden away any more—the soft fall of your breasts, your stomach, the lines of your hips, your fingers tightening in the towels spread beneath you as Taehyung’s eyes drink you in, wide and overawed at the sight of your flushed cunt, ripe and slick and ready for him.

(There's no more hiding how much you want Taehyung to have you, body and heart alike.)

You can see the shape of your body silhouetted on his clothes, where the oil has seeped into the material from how close he’d been pressed against you. You can see just how affected he is, cock straining against the loose linen of his white trousers, and you bite your lip to try and stifle the sound you make.

“Look at you,” Taehyung breathes, kneeling between your legs. “You’re so perfect.”

Your cheeks burn. “Taehyung, please,” you say, embarrassed. You really aren’t, especially in comparison to model-gorgeous Kim Taehyung, eyes dark and full of heated lust, hair falling in his eyes, effortlessly beautiful, always.

“You are,” he insists. “You have no idea how perfect you are.”

Before he reaches for the massage oil, he sucks the taste of you off his fingers, sloppy and messy. Your pussy throbs at the sight. And—you were also right about the visual being too much to handle, breath catching in your throat as you watch it drip into his broad hands. His palms shine as he rubs them together, interlacing his fingers, so graceful in their motions. You’re so wet from your orgasm, only getting wetter as you stare back at Taehyung, whose gaze has been heavy on you the whole time.

He starts at your collarbones. It’s even slower than before, and you ease underneath him, revelling in the softness of his touch. He sweeps his hands over your shoulders, down your arms, circling his long fingers around your wrists before lifting one of your hands. Your eyelashes flutter as he presses a kiss to your palm, a motion so full of adoration and tenderness it steals your breath away, and you squirm, shy.

“Tae,” you whine. “You can’t just do that.”

Of course he doubles down, lifting your other hand and repeating the motion, letting his lips linger between your head line and your heart line. “I can,” he says, words warm in your cupped palm.

“I hope you didn’t do this in class.” Your voice is too weak for it to come out as the joke you mean it to be.

Taehyung just shakes his head, mouth brushing over the tips of your fingers. “Only for you,” he says. “Did the whole class for you. I wanted—wanted an excuse to touch you more,” he admits, and your heart feels like it’s going to launch itself out of your throat.

“Then touch me,” you say, trying to sound confident even if your cheeks burn.

And he does. He lets your hands drop, gliding his touch back up your arms, down your body, over your legs; he massages your thighs and calves, digs his thumbs into the arches of your feet, circling his fingers around your ankles, shackles you don’t want to escape from. You feel so relaxed and lax, somehow, even if every touch has you biting your lip, anticipation roiling in your stomach for what’s to come, Taehyung laying your legs down softly before he shifts back up, hands held out towards you—

—then he cups your breasts in his big, big hands and your back arches, fingers sliding over your nipples, glistening with coconut oil, circling them with the pads of his thumbs. You let out an embarrassing whine.

“Oh, Tae,” you beg. “More, please.”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

You smile at another soft, unexpected pet name, flustered, but then your eyes slide shut when Taehyung bends down to kiss your neck as he continues to run his hands over the swell of your breasts. He trails his lips over your oiled skin, shifts down, drawing a line from your neck to the valley of your chest, the hard line at the center of your ribcage.

“Tae,” you murmur, and then, feeling bold under the heat of Taehyung’s dark eyes— “Baby.”

He hums before laying another sloppy kiss against your sensitive skin. You can feel the curve of his smile in the kiss. “Yes, love?”

“Is it really okay for you to… you know… get that oil in your mouth? I don’t want you to get sick,” you say, concerned, even through the haze of your arousal. His lips shine with it, at how he’s been trailing his mouth over all the parts of your body that he’s touched.

There’s a short beat, and then Taehyung buries his head against your neck—in that little hollow that’s his, in a motion he’s done dozens of times. Except this time you’re naked and he still has fingers splayed across the soft skin of your chest, nipples dragging underneath his palms.

“You’re always so considerate.” His words are muffled against your skin. “It’s fine. It’s edible.”

“You got edible massage oil from your course?”

Taehyung hesitates. “No,” he admits. “I bought it. It’s edible and, uh. Safe for intimate use.”

You’re silent, just for a moment, and then you can’t help it. You start to laugh.

“Kim Taehyung,” you say, body shaking with amusement. “Did you buy edible massage oil that you can also use as lube?”

Taehyung pulls his face away from your neck and glances up. You’re giggling at him, and he feels so full of love and affection; he can’t help but join in, both laughing at him, loud and carefree.

“It’s why I asked which one you liked,” he confesses, once he can catch his breath.

“I can’t believe you lied to me,” you say, but you don’t mind, really, and he knows it. You lift a hand to push hair out of his face, running your fingers down his scalp. He leans into your touch with a smile, bright and lovely, before he abruptly shifts one of his hands down so he can lick a hot, wet stripe across the skin of your breast.

That stops your laughter pretty fast, surprised hiccup shifting into a broken moan when he engulfs your nipple in the heat of his mouth. “O-oh,” you gasp. “Oh, Taehyung—”

“Been thinking about this for so long.” Taehyung’s eyes are lidded and dark as he leans back, watching the way you react to his touch, arching up towards him. “Wanted to touch you like this so much.”

“Wanted it too,” you breathe. “Wanted—oh, God, Tae, fuck—”

It’s overwhelming. Not just the way Taehyung is flicking his tongue over each of your nipples, pressing his lips against your skin, no—but the idea that he’s been hoping for this, too. Each wet motion of his tongue over your pebbled skin drags pulls out of you; Taehyung’s cock twitches at a loud keen that’s drawn from your lips, a wet patch of precum seeping through his boxers and trousers, darkening the fabric, even though you haven’t touched him yet.

When you reach out to grasp him through his clothes, his hips jolt forward and he bites off a surprised gasp, cutting through the sound with his teeth. He feels long and heavy as you stroke him, thumbing over the wet patch at his tip, hot, even through all those layers between your skin and his.

“I want to feel you, Tae,” you say, staring at him. “Inside me. Please.”

His breath hitches when you tighten your fingers around his shaft and drag your hand upwards, slow and intent.

“The oil isn’t condom friendly,” he admits, abashed.

“Then you can cum in my mouth,” you reply. No hesitation.

Taehyung’s eyes are so wide, but then he smiles, eyes squeezing into crescents, mouth turning up into that lovely, broad grin of his. He looks so sweet and sincere, and you feel like you could explode, stuffed overfull with love for him.

“You really are perfect,” he says.

“Only for you,” you reply, your smile just as bright.

He lays one final kiss to your chest, above your beating heart, before he starts to strip. The oil has obviously soaked through his shirt and onto his skin because it sticks when he peels it off and carelessly throws it aside.

Just like his heart, Taehyung’s body is soft and lovely. You sit up so you can touch him properly, catching him off guard when you pull him in for a kiss—one he eagerly leans into, and without the shirt in the way you can feel the way your skin slides against his, softened with oil.

There really is no one as beautiful as Kim Taehyung. You drag your hands over him, so warm and wonderful under your palms; his chest, his cute tummy, his waist, his hips, the soft skin above his red, neglected cock. He’s radiant in his nakedness, every easing line of his body so perfect as he kneels in front of you, the flush of his skin, the heavy weight of his arousal, head shining with precum, so wet it’s practically dripping.

You lean in to kiss his neck and nip at his Adam's apple as his hands slide over your shoulder blades and down your back, the parts that make you shudder.

“Want you, Tae.” You whisper into his mouth, a soft secret that isn’t really a secret at all, not any more. “All of you.”

“Going to give you everything you want.” The words flow out of him with ease. “Everything you want.”

His chest and stomach shine with the massage oil that’s rubbed off from your own skin. You run your hands across him, and when you finally grasp his cock without the barrier of cloth in the way, he’s almost burning under your grasp, thick, his entire body shuddering when you pump his length. So sensitive to your touch.

“I’m goin’ to make you cum again,” he promises, and you love it, the way he talks when he’s losing himself. “Bet you’ll feel so good around my cock, so perfect.”

A shiver skates through your body. Taehyung’s fingers dig into your skin when he feels you trembling under his hands, and all you can think about is how you want him in you.

“Please,” you say. “Please, wanna make you feel good too—”

“Hands and knees, angel,” he rasps, and, God, yes, those words cut straight through you, sharp and electric.

Maybe you should feel embarrassed at how quickly you obey. The towels underneath you, so carefully placed at the start, perfectly flat, become rumpled as you shift into position; you arch your back, wanting to look as good as possible, and glance over your shoulder to see if it works.

Judging from the look on Taehyung’s face, it does. He looks like he’s never seen anything more awe-inspiring, eyes wide and mouth a little slack, dumbstruck. But then his jaw snaps shut and he splays his hands over the soft skin of your hips, your waist, your ass, shuffling closer to you; you feel the curve of his cock slide against your skin and you bite back a noise of need.

“Fuck, so beautiful.” He ruts forward, and you can feel the wetness of his precum slicking against you, a beaded line drawn across the sheen of massage oil. “My beautiful, perfect girl.”

“Tae,” you plead, already overwhelmed with need, heart squeezing at his words.

“Just one more thing, angel, I promise.”

It’s a good thing that the bottle of massage oil is so big, considering how liberal Taehyung is with it. You gasp when he uses one hand to spread your ass and before you can react there’s a drizzle of oil falling onto your skin, down-down-down, over your cunt, dripping over your inner thighs; Taehyung catches the excess with his palms before he slicks himself up, spreading that sweet coconut over his throbbing cock.

(You wonder what it’ll taste like when you lick it off him.)

When you feel the blunt head of his cock nudging at your pussy, your entire body lights up in anticipation, nerve endings on fire, every inch of your body singing under Taehyung’s touch—and when he finally sinks in, it’s almost effortless. He’s thick and long but everything slides so easy; you gasp and he moans, both lost in how your body opens up for him, hot and wet. By the time he’s bottomed out you're a quivering mess, collapsed onto your elbows. You’re so full. You feel split open in all the best ways, wanting to draw him in impossibly deeper even so.

Taehyung is gripping your sides, hands unmoving even with the slick oil underneath them, fingers digging into your skin. He’s breathing so loud, and when you experimentally shift your hips, he bites back a noise that cuts through that breath.

“How’s it feel, love?” His words slur together in arousal, but the hand that strokes your back is slow, thoughtful. “Feel good?”

“Fuck me, Tae, baby, please,” you beg. It’s so, so so much, so good, amazing, hotter and bigger and harder than anything you’d let yourself imagine, your entire body taking Taehyung and holding him in, in, in. “Please, I need it, it feels good but I want more, please.”

When he pulls away it’s slow and torturous and he goes so far he almost slips out, cock nearly sliding out of your folds. You whine, a little shameless, mostly needy, but then—

The snap of his hips drives you forwards, towels shifting underneath as you scrabble for a hold on something. Each sharp motion of Taehyung’s body has you choking for air and letting out whimpers and gasps, drowned out by the slap of skin on skin; his hipbones meet the soft flesh of your ass, again and again, but all you can focus on is the thick heat of his cock inside you, in-out-in-out, the press of his balls against your clit, everything so wet and smooth and slick.

You can feel how you’re losing yourself to that heady place that’s golden bright with feeling, lust and sex, the rest of the world gone, unimportant. There’s nothing but this—Taehyung touching you, filling your body so well, so perfect, helping you chase that high that’s growing faster and faster, that precipice of pleasure that he’s going to throw you over again, intent on it.

One of his hands trails up your back, between that sensitive dip of your shoulder blades and into your hair, locks tangling with coconut oil before he urges you up. He doesn’t yank or pull but his hold is firm and you end up back on your hands, arms trembling as you try to keep your balance, back bowed, overwhelmed.

“Baby,” he rasps. “Oh, you’re so tight n’ hot, so pretty, fuck. You feel so good, do you feel good?”

Your answer is almost a wail, so overcome with pleasure, sensation, the glide of his hands over your shining skin, the mix of oil and arousal that drips out of you, only getting wetter with each thrust of his hips into you. “So good, o-oh God, Tae, baby, fuck, oh, theretherethere—”

“Here?”

He punctuates this with a roll of his hips, using the hand still on your hip to pull you back onto his cock as he fills you up once more, throbbing heat. He bends over you, and this time, there’s nothing stopping the skin on skin contact, the slide of his chest against your back as he kisses the soft skin behind your ear, nipping at your lobe, and that’s it, you’re gone. Your eyes slide shut and your mouth falls open as another orgasm crashes through you, legs shaking as you cum around Taehyung’s cock, grinding back against him to drag out that pleasure; the only thing holding you up is the hand still in your hair, the lips trailing up the side of your bared neck, the hard cock inside you, keeping you against him, so many points of connection with Taehyung.

(His chest pressed against your back, heart beating so hard you can feel it, your own heart moving in tandem, matching him.)

He’s been whispering filth to you, heated praise and love, how good you feel, how beautiful you are, what it’s like to see you like this, touch you like this, have you like this. Lovely, pretty, perfect, gorgeous, hot n’ wet n’ tight, fuck, love, oh.

You’re still shivering, the final pulses of your orgasm curling through you with each unintentional shift of Taehyung’s hips, the drag of his length inside your inner walls. You can feel something dripping out of you; oil, cum, you don't know, but fuck, it feels so so good.

“Oh, God,” you say. Breathless. “Oh, Taehyung, oh.”

“Pretty darling,” he murmurs. He swivels his hips, grinding against you, and your entire body jolts with oversensitivity, clit swollen where his balls press against it. You tighten around him and groan at how hot and big he still feels inside, even as you still shiver from the come down of your second orgasm. “Gonna roll you over so I can see that perfect face.”

And when you’re on your back again, fucked out and mussed and wrecked, he just stares at you. You’ve watched his face for so long, seen so many expressions flit across his features, but never something like this—it’s a mix of amazement and awe and tenderness and lust and love, a lift to his brows and a spark in his eyes and a set to his lips.

And when he leans down to kiss you, that look doesn’t leave. It melts and softens around the edges as you catch each other's mouths, as you kiss and kiss, small tender things interspersed with longer, deeper touches, lips and teeth and tongue—his eyes darken and his mouth flushes darker pink, kiss swollen and so beautiful, but that expression stays. It stays for you.

Kim Taehyung is beautiful and lovely and unique. Kim Taehyung is so far out of your reach it’s kind of stunning, actually. And yet, here you are, existence of his touch over every part of you, in every part of you, lust driven, love full; the carefully balanced weight of his body splayed over you, pinning you down, keeping you close.

“I wanna see you cum, Tae,” you say. “Please?”

And just like he always does, Taehyung indulges you, just like you indulge him. He presses back inside you, cunt opening up for him so easy, so smooth, like his touch has already been etched into the memory of your body, perfect for him. He stays pressed close, face so near as he rolls into each thrust, sweat and coconut oil painted across your skin as your bodies shift together.

He’s been covering you in his words, both heated and sweet, and now you return the favour. You tell him how good he feels, how beautiful he is, so good, so perfect, so considerate, how much you’ve wanted this. So good, so long and thick, oh, Tae, feels so good, ah-ah-ah, baby, you’re unreal, fuck.

You can see the exact moment he starts to reach his high, the way he sucks in air, the way he lifts his chin, starts to thrust a little harder, a little faster, chasing that thread of pleasure that’s spiralling through him, and you urge him on. You lift your hips and clench so tight it has him gasping, hips stuttering, and you press your nose against his jaw, saying give it to me give it to me give it to me, wanting him to feel the same pleasure he’s given you.

When he pulls out, you’re too busy moving to pay attention to how empty you feel, settling between his legs and swallowing down his shining cock almost desperately. There’s no coconut. You can only taste yourself and when you lave your tongue across his slit it’s all Taehyung-Taehyung-Taehyung, hot and salt and bitter; he gasps and his hips jump and you take it all, lowering your head as far as you can, the head of his cock at the back of your throat before you pull up, dragging your tongue over the pulsing vein at the underside, messy and wet. You drink down the wetness of his cock, your own arousal, mixed with his, the precum that beads at his head, staring up at him, your hands sliding over the sheen of his stomach, his thighs, cupping his balls, everything slick with oil and sweat.

“Oh, God.” Taehyung’s eyes are blown and his hair is a mess and his mouth is wide open as he pants for air, watching. “Baby, baby, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum.”

You suck hard, dragging your lips up from the base of the cock to the rounded tip, swirling your tongue, bobbing your head faster—

“Oh, fuck—”

—and you swallow down each wave of cum, swallow down the way his cock twitches as he spills the evidence of pleasure into your mouth, swallow down the lovely noises that shudder out of him, watching him the whole time, never wanting to look away.

When you take your mouth off his softening cock, you draw a line of kisses with your mouth, up the soft skin of his body, stomach to chest to neck to mouth. He licks the taste of coconut oil off your lips, the taste of himself off your tongue; you curl up in his lap, settled against him, the apartment’s cool air even sharper against your skin, magnified by the oil that still lingers.

(Even without the oil painted across him, Taehyung would still shine, even under the weak light from the cheap lightbulb that hangs above you.)

You feel soft and warm and small in the circle of Taehyung’s arms, pulled close, and you can hear the words in his chest as he speaks, a resonance that touches against your skin.

“‘M sorry,” he murmurs.

You pause.

“Baby, love, darling.” The endearments are sugar sweet in your mouth, soft against his skin before you pull back to look at him, confused, concerned. “Sorry for what?”

“I really—I really was just planning to do a massage, but you’re so…”

You let out a slip of laughter. The room smells of coconut and sex, but when you lay your head against Taehyung’s collarbone all you can smell is the light tinge of his sweat. You breathe in, deep, like you can hold onto that ephemeral part of him. “Oh, Tae. I’m so what?”

“You’re so good,” he says. “So good and kind and lovely and—and so beautiful. I was going to do the massage to make you happy and then… tell you. About how happy you make me.”

You burrow your head into the hollow of his neck, the way he does to you, shy. “I’m not as beautiful as you,” you reply. “Tae, you are literally the most beautiful person alive, and—God, I’ve. I’ve been. So head over heels for you.”

There’s a pause. “Really?”

When you pull back to fix Taehyung with all the surprise in your gaze, you can see that he’s surprised, too. His hair hangs into his eyes, and he looks a little unsure, like he believes you, but finds it impossible to fathom.

You leave massage oil on his cheeks when you cup his face in your hands, staring at him with wide eyes. “Kim Taehyung, I have had daily breakdowns about the intensity of my love for you to Pickles ever since we got him. You’re the first person I think about each morning—usually because we wake each other up—and the last thing I think about at night—well, usually because you end up climbing into my bed more often than not, but, it still counts,” you say. You’re both tangled together in so many ways already. “You’ve had my heart for a long time, you know. I just never thought I had a chance?”

When Taehyung kisses you, it’s brief, a hard press of his lips before he rests his forehead against yours. “You really, really have no idea how perfect you are,” he murmurs. “I’ve wanted—I want to do everything for you to show you how grateful I am for everything you do for me.”

“You don’t have to,” you protest, but he just smiles.

“I don’t have to, but I want to,” he says. “Like you don’t have to look after me, but you do.”

“That’s because I love you,” you say. “Like, capital L love you.”

You’ve been so afraid of confessing, so convinced that it was an unattainable dream; that Kim Taehyung would never, could never, has never seen you as more than a friend. But the way he’s looking at you now, the way he’s touched you, the way your body still echoes with the feeling of him inside you: you’re not scared, any more. You don’t need to be.

Taehyung’s eyes are so dark and warm when he replies, easy and effortless. “I love you, too.”

Your relationship has always been a give and take, is the thing. When you climb in the shower together, he washes the oil from your back while you massage shampoo into his scalp, laughing when he makes devil horns in his hair. He catches you by surprise when he presses you against the tiles, swallowing your moans when he coaxes one final orgasm from your tired body, rubbing tight circles over your clit as you buck against his hand and water cascades over you both. His cock hardens in your hands, sliding between your legs when you press them together, tight-tight-tight, his length rubbing against your cunt as he fucks your thighs until he’s moaning and shaking and cumming again.

(The water’s cold by the time you finally climb out, but that’s okay. You giggle and kiss as you dry yourselves, each other, excuses to keep touching and feeling, driven by affection, not lust.)

When you’re both clean, and dry, Taehyung’s leg thrown over your hip as he tugs you in, flush with his body under the covers, you press your lips against the line of his jaw.

“Taehyung?”

“Yes, angel?”

You smile and hunch up even closer to him, scrunching yourself up as small as you can to plaster yourself against his side. “Thank you for the wonderful massage. Definitely the best massage I’ve ever been given, ten out of ten, would do again.”

Taehyung laughs, pressing his rectangular smile into the kiss he lays against your lips, and you think that nothing tastes better than the happiness curling his mouth.

“Love you,” he murmurs. Always romantic. “I love you love you love you.”

“Tae-honey-hyung.” And it feels so nice to not have to filter your words, to bite back that second layer of meaning, to try and keep things platonic and chaste when you speak. “I love you.”

And it feels so nice to have your Taehyung beside you, your body still aching with the press of him inside you, a good ache, a nice ache. A physical ache from good love, rather than a heartache from a love you didn’t think was reciprocated. But it is, somehow, each of you so bowled over by each other.

(“Hey, Pickles.”

The bearded dragon looks up at you, placid as he lounges in his tank.

“Well, you’ll be happy to hear that you won’t have to put up with me ranting at you any more,” you say. “Taehyung did break out the massage oil but it’s all good. I didn’t spontaneously combust or anything, like I thought I would.”

Pickles’ tongue flicks out as he shifts, and you smile.

“Okay, that’s it, I’m done,” you finish. “Thanks, Pickles. You’re a real pal.”

Taehyung nuzzles into your neck. His arms are a tight circle around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder as he looks down at the reptile, too. He’s warm and solid against your back, and you lean into him, happiness tingling through you.

“I wonder how much longer we would have taken if you didn’t get that coupon for a massage therapy course,” you muse, and Taehyung chuckles, warm and lovely.

“We would have gotten there eventually. And we would have had each other until we did, anyway. Right, angel?”

Pickles stays quiet as you both kiss, but you can tell he approves.)

taglist: @beyoncesdragon

#magicshopnet #btswritingcafe #taehyung smut #taehyung oneshot #taehyung x reader #bts #bts smut #v smut #v oneshot #v x reader #taehyung #taehyung fluff #bts oneshot #kim taehyung #taehyung imagine #taehyung scenario #bts fic #bts fanfic #joy.masterlist

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amor-immortalem · 3 years ago

Text

Replaced

Genre: Heavy Angst, Angst with a somewhat happy ending.

Warning: The following piece is my take on the replaced! au with Arella. Dark themes lie ahead. If you are triggered by feelings of abandonment, suicidal ideation, or outright suicide, this mini fic is not safe for you to read. Please continue at your own discretion.

A/N: I did it guys! I actually managed to break myself with this mini fic by digging into my own abandonment issues. It was fun- cathartic almost. Please enjoy! Also, spoilers for the lesson 16 incident.

What does it feel like to be replaced? If you were to ask Arella, she’d say it felt bitter and painful. Like someone was holding a white-hot branding iron to her stomach and pushing it in to the point it ate through all the layers of her skin and was now searing through her stomach or like someone was rubbing salt into a open, festering wound.

When Diavolo had announced to the other student council officers that a new exchange student would be joining their ranks, Arella was excited- especially when she found out the new student was a female- there was only so much Arella could talk about in a house full of men and one genderless individual that they would understand, all of them having been assigned male at birth and whatnot. So, another woman among their ranks would be a breath of fresh air for her. And it was for a time being- until the brothers had taken favor to this new human.

It started within months of this new exchange student arriving. One by one, her favorite demons started hanging around her more often. It wasn't like Arella could be mad at them. This human was novel and oh so different from Arella. She was everything Arella was not, from her blonde hair to her well-developed body- even her height, which matched closer to the brothers. She was everything human world media told a girl she should be. She even looked like she fit in with them- having taken to the Devildom like a duck to water even without being able to use magic.

Arella wants to be angry with this girl, but she can’t. This girl, named Melissa, was so sweet it was almost enough to make Arella sick. She was smart, innocent, and -above all else- selfless. It was apparent the boys adored her immediately. One by one, Arella was losing them to the charms of this new girl. The first to go was Satan, clearly smitten by her love of books and knowledge of obscure but very talented authors. The second to go was Asmo, often taking her out to clubs or on long shopping trips that often lasted well past curfew. And just like that the other brothers started to follow suit. Game nights between her and Levi? Gone. Drawing up budgets with Lucifer? Not anymore. Going out with Beel to cafes? Not in her wildest dreams. Naptimes up in the attic with Belphie? Hah! Fat chance. The last and most painful to pull away was Mammon- her first man. The one who swore he would always be there for her when she needed him. And oh how she needed him.

Just like when Arella had first come to the Devildom, Mammon was given the task of watching over Melissa by Lucifer. At first Arella tried to justify it as Lucifer worrying about the girl’s safety as even though his brothers had gotten better at controlling themselves, they still had their moments.

As time went on however, she started to notice the little things. Missed movie nights between them, date nights often forgotten about in favor of showing Melissa his favorite spots around the city, the loss of any physical intimacy. Soon, he stopped seeing her all together. Things that she and Mammon did together were now reserved for Melissa: casino trips, movie nights, pranks on Lucifer that would have the eldest chasing after them, running around the city until it was nearly what could considered to be the Devildom’s equivalent of dawn. She knew he was completely gone when she walked down to the dining room for supper one evening and overheard them just casually flirting. Mammon didn’t even make any attempts to dissuade Melissa’s advances. He remembered he actually had a girlfriend, right? Right?!

Or were they even a thing anymore? It had been months since they’d spent any substantial time together outside of classes and even then, he’d moved seats to sit closer to the new human. He’d either ignore her texts or straight up just ghost her altogether. As she listened to them, she had to push down the possessive tendencies that tried to force their way out of her. She pushed them back down into the flimsily locked box they had always been contained in and burying them down in the deepest parts of her mind, forcing herself to accept that she was no longer wanted- no longer loved by the family she thought she’d found. She returned to her room for the rest of the night and for the first time since the initial weeks after arriving here on her first visit, cried herself to sleep.

The next time she interacted with any of the Avatars, it was Lucifer ordering her off to school telling her that she had better not be late and tarnish the good name Lord Diavolo and the exchange programme. Arella only nodded and promptly left the house, not even bothering to finish her morning cup of tea. The walk to school was lonely, Mammon had left earlier with Melissa and it was then, with a broken heart, Arella decided she would leave them all to their new toy. They wouldn’t bother her. They didn’t need her. At least she had Solomon and the angels, didn’t she? No, it didn’t seem to be the case either judging by the mass of unanswered texts.

As she entered class, Arella took her usual seat only hoping Mammon would choose to sit with her for once, would just choose her for once in general. But it wasn’t meant to be. Of course, it wouldn’t. Why would he bother to choose her when there was someone who was much better for him than her? Someone who wasn’t selfish or possessive or... or... worthless... She subtilty looked over her shoulder to watch as they cracked jokes and laughed together and she felt tears pool in her eyes- heart aching at the thought that she would never have that again and the sweet memories she’d made with the demon. The spot she once saved for him was now taken by another demon.

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

Two months more of this- it had been eleven since Melissa joined them. None of the brothers even looked Arella’s way anymore- often forgetting she lived in the house with them in the first place. When she tried to reach out to any of them it was Melissa needs this or Melissa and I are doing this, so she just stopped. She stopped eating, stopped taking care of herself save for basic hygiene needs. No one came to check on her. There were no texts, no calls, nothing. They’d gotten all they wanted out of her and now she was like a cast aside doll. She thought about reaching out to any of them but decided against it. They were demons and she was just an insignificant human. It's not like they actually cared and Arella was a fool for allowing herself to entertain the thought.

She should just go home. But where was home? The human world held nothing for her to return to. Sure, she had that degree in biochemical engineering to fall back on but after having a taste of true happiness, would she even enjoy a life doing that? Maybe she could just go back to her original plan. The plan she had made when she first signed on to the exchange programme. 23 years was certainly long enough to experience everything life had to offer, right? She always did tell herself if the year on the exchange programme didn’t work out, she’d end it all. The idea was sounding more and more appealing by the minute.

With her mind made up, Arella swung her legs over the side of the bed. A smile was painted on her face. Her cheeks stained with tears; emerald-green eyes bleary from all the crying she’d done over the past two months. No one would miss her. They left her- abandoned for the better human like she was an unwanted pet. What did she expect though? No one ever stayed. No one ever cared. No one ever loved her enough to begin with. She was always thrown away like the trash she was after her purpose was fulfilled.

With what little strength she could muster, Arella stood as she uttered a spell and a portal opened. She gladly stepped through it, finding herself in her childhood home as it closed- a place filled with nothing but suffering and pain for her. What a fitting place for her own painful end.

“Hello, Mum, Myles... I’m... home... Isn’t it lovely... that you were right after all? I’ll be with you... soon...”

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

Missing his call on her D.D.D. was the first thing that Mammon noticed. He knew he hadn’t been the best boyfriend ever since the new human arrived and the demon felt guilty for that. He’d put so much energy into helping Melissa get a date with his younger brother that he hadn’t realized how much time had actually passed- how it had been almost a year since he’d done literally anything with his girlfriend. She was probably pissed at him and rightfully so. Now that he had actually looked at his calendar, there had been so many planned dates and movie nights he had missed with her and all he wanted to do was make it up to her somehow. She probably thought he didn’t want her anymore which couldn’t have been further from the truth. He missed her- missed hanging out with her, missed the dumb jokes they would crack and the laughter that followed, missed the pranks they would play on Lucifer that often ended up with them strung up from the ceiling together. He missed the late-night cuddles and having her tucked up under his arm at night as he held her close. The bed they had once shared was considerably colder now that she was no longer there.

Mammon made his way down to her room. That was the only place she could be. Arella never left her room anymore. She always left for school earlier than anyone else too, choosing to skip breakfast outright, so Mammon couldn’t even catch her to talk then. He thought about reclaiming his seat next to his human but every morning he found her chatting up another demon that had taken his old seat. He often felt his possessiveness spike most during those times but did he even have the right to feel that way after neglecting her for the past eleven months?

As he drew closer to her room, he could see Beel knocking at her door, asking if she’d like to go visit that new café she had mentioned a couple weeks ago. When there was no answer, the Avatar of Gluttony would frown, unsure if she was just asleep or just actively ignoring him. That was the second sign something was wrong. No matter what happened, at the end of the day, Arella was always happy to entertain their whims.

“She’s not answerin’ ya, is she?” The second-born asks as the sixth-born shakes his head, looking like an abandoned puppy on the side of the road. “I’ll go in ‘n see if she’s awake. I have to talk to ‘er anyway.”

Beelzebub nodded as he left back to the kitchen- likely to eat his hurt feelings away. None of them really had the right to feel this way after they’d just ghosted their favorite human though. As he opened the door, Mammon stopped dead in his tracks. She wasn’t there, her phone lay on the bed lit up with missed texts from Asmo and Levi.

Immediately, he took off for Lucifer’s study. If anyone would know her whereabouts it would be Lucifer, right? The family patriarch had the uncanny ability to know exactly where every resident of the House of Lamentation was at any given time so long as they were still in the Devildom.

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

After considering her options, Arella was left indecisive. There were a number of ways she could end her own life. She wouldn’t lie, before the exchange programme she would fantasize about the many ways she could kill herself. Would it be by hanging like she found Myles? Or perhaps she could slit her wrists like her beloved mother. If the car in the garage still worked, carbon monoxide poisoning was a valid option too. There were sleeping pills up in the medicine cabinet- a large handful of those would definitely do the trick... Ah choices, choices. As she smiled to herself, the human wondered if any of the brothers had noticed she wasn’t in the house anymore. The chances were unlikely as they were all too busy with their new human but if they had, who was it?

Would it be Asmo, Levi, Belphegor? Surely, it wouldn’t have been Mammon. He’d long since moved on, probably enjoying the start of a new relationship with Melissa. It hurt that he couldn’t have been bothered to even break up with Arella in the first place. What happened to forever? Had it all been the honeyed words of a liar?

She shook her head. It was best not to think too much on it but she still couldn’t help it. Once she was gone- once their pact faded away- would he regret this? Would he regret losing the person who loved him so unconditionally that it was almost embarrassing?

With her mind made up, Arella grabbed a knife from one of the drawers in the kitchen and carried herself up to the master bedroom where she had found her mother four years prior. As she lie on the bed, she pressed the knife to her wrist deep enough to cause substantial bleeding. She drags the blade up her arm, watching as the crimson liquid gushed from the from the wound. She thinks it’s beautiful- a fitting end for a vile creature such as herself.

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

“Lucifer!”

“What, Mammon?” The eldest didn’t even bother to look up from the ever-growing stack of paperwork on his desk.

“Did Arella have plans tonight?” The Avatar of Greed asks as his brother finally looks up at him.

“Not that I’m aware of, but I also haven’t seen her all day. As her mate, you should know, shouldn’t you? As far as I’m aware, Arella hasn’t left the house and is still in her room probably practicing her mag-”

In that moment, both demons felt a sharp pain shoot up their arm as if someone had taken a knife and was drawing a line up the inside of their arm. The same pain was radiating from the places where their pact marks were located. Mammon clutched at his chest as he fell to his knees, the symbol representing his girlfriend radiating with pain that reached down to his heart. If the screams of the others were anything to go by, they felt the same thing.

“She’s not in her room!” The white-hair demon manages to gasp out. What scares him most is that he can feel their pact fading away.

Lucifer’s heart leapt up in his throat as the realization hit him. It wasn’t her practicing magic that he had sensed earlier, it was her casting a spell. She opened a portal to the human world and had gone through. He now realizes the mistake they’ve made as he remembers back to the confession she had made to him over a year ago one night when neither of them could sleep and opted for a late-night cup of tea. She had told him that he and his brothers had saved her life that first year during the exchange programme. That if things hadn’t worked out so well, she had planned to take her own life. Back then, he thought nothing much of it since the problem had resolved itself. But with how they had essentially pushed her aside in favor of Melissa, she would have felt unwanted bringing the suicidal thoughts back full force. They had to get to her and fast before it was too late.

Always fast on his feet the eldest, opens a portal of his own, knowing of only one place she would go to take her own life. Both brothers would hop through, landing in the dusty house with a thud. The smell hit them faster than either of them could process it. Blood. And a lot of it at that.

Mammon was the first to scramble for the stairs while Lucifer made a break for the phone, having forgotten his D.D.D. on his desk in the rush to get through the portal. The second-born knows the layout of Arella's house too well, having been here with her multiple times before this. Back in better times when she knew just how much he loved her. As the smell of fresh blood grows stronger, he finds her resting on the bed, a smile on her face as the knife lay between her body and the arm that was still slowly losing blood.

Faster than a flash of lightning, the demon tore his belt off and was on the bed immediately. He took her arm, fastening his belt around the upper part in a tourniquet to stop the blood flow. He shook her frantically, tears spilling down his face freely.

“Arella! Arella! C'mon, baby, wake up! Please!” His voice came out in a scream and he could only vaguely hear his brother speaking on the phone with emergency services. “We’re sorry! Don’t leave us! Don’t leave me!”

With every passing second, Mammon could feel her life slipping away through the pact that was still searing his heart. This was the price of his actions- of all their actions. Her blood was on his hands, literally. He should have done more. He should have been there. He could have called or texted or even just picked up the damn phone when she had called him, but instead just like the blood that had slipped from her arm, the Avatar of Greed let her slip through his fingers. She was gone and there was no bringing his human back this time like they had when Belphie threw her body down the stairs after he’d strangle her to death. He and his brothers had spent all that time protecting her from other demons but they couldn’t protect her from themselves.

Once the EMT’s got there, the demon stepped back from the blood-soaked bed in a state of shock- a state of disbelief. There was nothing they could do for her now. She had no pulse, no signs of life. He dropped to his knees unable to believe that his human was truly gone. His throat felt tight as more tears came. He was only just able to register the feeling of the Avatar of Pride’s embrace as they cried together- something they hadn’t done since the fall, since Lilith passed.

The two demons were informed that the coroner would arrive to collect her body shortly as they left the room. Slowly they got up, Mammon taking her body in his arms as he fought back the urge to sob. The pair returned to the House of Lamentation with Arella’s body in tow, cradled carefully in her mate’s arms. As they stepped through, they were met by their brothers and Melissa. Even the Angels, Solomon, and the Royals were there waiting.

“She’s gone,” The eldest’s voice cracked as a pained grimace formed on his face, more tears slipping down his face. Mammon couldn’t even lift his head to look them in the eyes as the crying, wailing, sobbing started.

“We didn’t deserve ‘er.” The second-born chokes on his tears, feeling utterly broken inside. “We did this to ‘er. All... All seven of us did this... She reached out to alla us ‘n we ignored ‘er.” He’s the angriest with himself.

The prince and his butler only watch on, tears in their eyes. Diavolo remembers all the good times they’ve had with Arella. The way she made the lives of the Avatars better, the fun she brought to the student council meetings, the beautiful light she’d brought to the Devildom. She’d made such an impact on the lives of all of these demons and angels. As selfish as it was, Diavolo didn’t want to let any of that go.

“Bring her back, Barbatos.” He orders and his loyal servant steps forward.

“Place her on the ground, Mammon.” Barbatos says calmly, almost as if he’s done this a thousand times and for some reason the Avatar of Greed obeys the order.

Once she’s on the ground, the green-haired demon pulls open her mouth and takes Mammon’s hand in his, producing a dagger and slicing the white-haired demon’s palm tipping it to side and allows the blood to drop into Arella’s mouth. As the crimson liquid flows down her throat, the effect is immediate- Arella's body convulsing violently before she gasps for breath as the gash along the inside of her arm heals.

Everyone- demons, angels, and humans alike- stare wide-eyed at the scene. Lucifer looks up to his longtime friend in disbelief. He had just...

“Let this teach you all a very painful lesson. I’ve given her life as a demon, do not take this chance for granted. You will not get it again. She needs rest for now, but in a day or two, Arella will reawaken.” The prince’s voice is stern as he peers down at the former human who would now become a very powerful demon. “Treat her right this time.”

It’s with that that Diavolo and Barbatos take their leave. The rest was up to the brothers now to care for her and right the wrongs they’ve made.

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

The Bad Ending

Find more on my masterlist

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me! shall we date?#obey me angst #mammon angst #replaced!mc au

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whumpwizard · 2 years ago

Text

Whumptober 2022 Day 3: A Hair's Breadth from Death

The Shadowhand knew what his fatal error was. He had slipped, and allowed the ginger haired Scourger into his life, despite every warning sign not to. Let himself believe that the man could be saved, could be turned away from the darkness of his past and into the light of his future. Their future, together, where they could run away and study and live a happy, quiet life. Essek had been a fool, and now he was paying the price.

The price, it turned out, was a cold steel knife aimed at his kidney, his arm twisted painfully behind his back, and the scent of the dying fire filling the bedroom. The bedroom that he shared with Bren.

“Well, Shadowhand, it appears your little game is over.” the deep voice behind him growled. Wulf, if he remembered from Bren’s stories.

They had come into the room so fast, that Essek had barely noticed. He knew exactly how, of course. Bren had disabled the arcane security system that kept Essek’s towers guarded against incursions, and let them in. It was quite literally the only possible solution. And Essek hadn’t even registered Bren leaving the bed. Light, the man got up to pad around the room and get a drink most nights anyways, so Essek had grown used to it.

For a brief second, he wondered if that, too, had been part of the ploy. Get Essek used to him getting up and out of bed, so when he did that night, it seemed normal. How long had Bren been planning this? Had he always wanted this? Essek had been so sure that Bren had changed. But maybe he had just been wrong.

Across from him, his fire-haired wizard stood stock still, posture perfect and face hardened. Essek looked into his eyes, ice blue and so kind just hours before, searching for any indication of his true mind. It was no use though. Essek found nothing but cold determination and emptiness. He wanted to return the same distant resignation, but he couldn’t. Essek could already feel tears streaming down his face as Wulf held him steady. He knew that any begging would be in vain, though, and didn’t bother.

Beside Bren, stood the woman. Astrid, looking just as he had described, her hand a steadying brace on his shoulder.

“Do you have any last words, Shadowhand? Or will you enter the Hells a silent, sobbing mess?” she asked, her voice laced with venom.

“F-fuck you.” Essek spat. Behind him, Wulf pressed the dagger in further, tearing into the skin a bit. He let out a shout, and Astrid simply smiled.

“You know, Bren told us something very interesting about you, Shadowhand. Can you guess what it is?” she teased, stepping forwards a bit, her hand still guiding Bren. “He told us that you are not consecuted. So, when you die here, you will die for good. You will not get the chance to come back and stalk this world again. You, like all the rest of us, will rot wither and be no more. Isn’t that wonderful?”

“N-no…he…no…” Essek sobbed, looking to Bren. It couldn’t be true. It had been Essek’s closest secret, told only after many drinks and kisses had opened him up. And now, here he was, suing that knowledge to rip him apart. To kill him in his own home, under the teasing light of a Luxon that would do nothing to protect his soul. It was cruel. But then, cruelty was the way of the Scourgers, in the end.

“Oh yes, Shadowhand. But, truly, if. You have nothing left to tell us, I would rather have Wulf end this now. If we have questions, a cleric can ask your corpse.”

“Say goodbye.” Wulf said from behind him, the dagger pressing deeper. Essek shouted again, another sob ripping out of him.

“B-Bren…” The name of the man he almost loved, almost ran away with, almost lived with, was the last word on his lips. Without a moment’s hesitation, Wulf impaled him with the dagger, the blade tearing through muscle and bone. Essek’s vision flashed bright, blinding white for a second, before fading into black.

It was a shame, really, that Esseks vision faded so fast. That he went unconscious without looking closer at Bren. If he had, he would have seen the tears, streaking silently down Bren’s face, as he tried and failed to hide them from his fellow Volstrucker. He would have seen Wulf looking right at Bren as he told Essek to say goodbye, and he would’ve seen Astrid tightening her grip on his shoulder, preventing him from running to the body.

If Essek had remained conscious for only a few more moments, he would have seen Bren break down, falling to his knees as the life faded from the elf's eyes.

#whumptober2022 #no.3 #say goodbye #impaled #critical role #fic #implied character death #character death #shadowgast #essek thelyss #bren aldric ermendrud #astrid beck #eadwulf grieve #caleb widogast #caleb x essek #stabbing #volstrucker #betrayal

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bubblyhoney · 3 years ago

Note

sarah i have thought of another fic request or like a cute idea i guess! i didn’t have anyone in mind when i thought of it so you can write it for whoever you want honestly :)

okay so the reader is a streamer but streams games like animal crossing, standew valley, etc. then (insert who you’re writing for) says they don’t like that game, but later ends up buying it and the reader is like “i thought you said you didn’t like this game” and they’re like “well i like you” and they confuses their feelings and they end up playing the game together and reader gives them a tour of their island or farm

i feel like this request isn’t good, but the scenario seemed cute and i wanted to share it. sorry if this is confusing or just too specific cuz i know it can be hard to write requests like that! but yeah i hope it gives you inspiration and you like the request <3

new horizons

warnings: language, a Marvel reference (hint: natasha said it about tony), stupid idiots who don’t realize they like each other, use of pet names, Uno rage, Hasan Piker's presence

words: 1473

tags: sapnap x gn!reader

A/N: i’ve been trying to catch up a little on my requests (i’ve only got a couple so i’m not super overwhelmed) but school and outside life has been taking up most of my time so this one took me a while to make! tbh— ive never played animal crossing so i did google some of the game mechanics and i apologize if anything is inaccurate about the game…. but i liked relaxing and writing this cute one so thank you for requesting hails :3

requests/inbox status: open

“This game is trash.”

Your head quirks, fingers stopped on the screen. You’re in the process of giving your character a cute new nickname; it’s kind of hard to decide between “awkward dude” and “elderly skater”.

“Excuse me?” Your chat comes alive with emotes and ‘KEKW’s, obviously entertained by you and your almost-more-than-friends-friend.

There’s a story for that later.

Sapnap’s rough laugh comes through your headset and he audibly swallows, the sound of a water bottle dropping onto his desk echoing.

“I’m just saying—it’s boring. It’s like Minecraft but you don’t like… do anything.” The grainy image of his bearded face shifts and you see him pull out his phone.

“It’s— you can’t even compare it to Minecraft! It’s a completely different game system—you actually interact with other people live in the game.” You huff out a dramatic sigh, slumping in your chair with a pout. “Just because you go into this lucid state where all you know is ‘touch block, hit George’ doesn’t mean this game isn’t fun.” (He scoffs at your awful impression of his voice. Your viewers love it.)

“Jeez,” he mumbles, fumbling with the cap of his water bottle. “Touched a nerve there, bud.”

You roll your eyes, getting back to the village in the game.

“Don't ‘bud’ me.”

The call falls comfortably quiet, the sounds of him tapping obsessively on his phone and you clicking away filling the silence. A gentle bedroom-pop YouTube playlist remains in the background, prompting you to hum along and glance at the chat to see a flood of “check twitter” and “Y/N TWITTER!!”.

“What happened on Twitter?” You mumble, confused, and pull the website up on another monitor. Sapnap just makes a curious noise, swinging back and forth in a circle. “Oh my God,” you say to yourself, fingertips brushing your parted lips.

“What?”

“Hasan Piker just followed me and retweeted one of my not even remotely political old tweets. Like from a year ago.”

“That’s— wow. Congrats?” Sapnap’s voice cracks, and his ears flush pink the tiniest bit when you glance at his face on Discord.

“I’m gonna go on record and say that he could get it.” You shake your head in disbelief.

Sapnap falls uncharacteristically non-hyper-verbal, so you look past the frenzied chat and to his screen— wait. He muted and turned his camera off.

“Um,” you start, furiously typing question marks in your private chat. “Where’d you go?” You mute and turn screen share off for your stream, concerned that he might’ve fallen off his chair and broken his neck and needs you to call the ambulance.

The characteristic ding of a twitter notification sounds through your bedroom, and you look at your phone quickly.

“That’s where I went.”

Sapnap Tweeted: “all Y/U stans can choke on my dick”.

“Jesus, Sapnap,” you say, and rapidly refresh to read the replies. This tweet was deleted. “That’s so— that barely makes sense, bro. Why— literally what?”

His snicker floods your ears and you relax in your chair. Crisis: averted. “Don’t fucking— what’s wrong with you?”

“I thought it would be funny,” he offers, shrugging, and fiddles with the straw in his water bottle, smile fading. “And also Hasan pisses me off.”

“Why, ‘cause he wants a piece of this? Jealous?” You think back to your viewers, knowing they’re probably spamming question marks and coming to ludacris conclusions about both of your absences. No offense to them. You remember your stan days very vividly.

“I mean, kinda.” He rubs once at his nose, glancing at the camera (and what feels like you) before taking a sip from his water bottle.

“Wow.” You watch one strand of his hair fall from beneath his hat and brush against his full eyebrows. “I’m uh—I’ll get back to my stream. You coming? Or is it time for a Sapnap-snack?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He snorts and leans his chin onto the balance of his arm.

“That means you like to take a little snack break mid-stream and come back approximately nine hours later and you didn’t even eat.”

“You know what— fuck you.” He flicks the camera as you laugh at the look on his face.

The teasing mood is easily kept as you switch games from Animal Crossing to Uno, all the while slamming Sapnap with +4’s and skipping the newly-arrived BadBoyHalo at any chance you can get. It unironically pisses him off and he has to take a Sapnap-snack break midway through (only a fifteen minute break this time, during which you and Bad take a “What Kind of Bread Are You?” quiz). The rest of the night is filled with devious cackles (you), loud and sudden bangs that sound suspiciously like someone hitting their desk in anger (Sap) and the stupid barking of Rat, AKA Lucy (Bad). She’s cute but a menace to the sound quality of Bad’s microphone. You sign off stream around 2 a.m. with various forms of thanks and kisses blown to the camera. It’s been a refreshing night, actually; you’ve been busy organizing a partnership stream all week and all your friends have been busy filming or editing or what-not. Quackity had time for a little Roblox every couple of days, though. He’s got your back.

The next time you see Sapnap is after a two hour stream of him try-harding in Valorant and you finishing responding to an email from your partnership in the VC.

“Okay, I’m back.” You hear him shift in his chair and click a couple more times on his keyboard. You perk up in your chair, closing the email browser you’d been looking at.

“Do you want to play anything else? I’m down for anything.”

“Absolutely not Uno. You can go to hell for giving me 6 cards that one time,” he jabs. You scoff, crossing your arms and leaning back in your chair.

“Okay, the +4 was on me but it��s Bad who gave you the last two. That’s not my fault, sweetie.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbles, trailing off as the clicking of his keyboard stops. “Hey, um—Guess what?”

Your heart beats loud in your ears at the tone of his voice. He sounds nervous; that’s never good.

“I’m scared to guess,” you try, playing with a little Minecraft dog figurine you have on your desk with fidgety fingers. “What?”

“I bought Animal Crossing.”

Silence. You stare at his discord icon blankly, trying to reroute the wires of your brain.

“Tell me you love it.”

“Well… I haven’t actually played it— but you said you liked it, so.”

“So,” you repeat him, ears warming but continuing on. “Is that what you tell all your friends when you buy something they like? That it's because of them?”

He seems to choose his next words carefully, pausing a beat to consider your questions.

“Well, I don’t have a crush on all of my friends.”

“You—what?” You stutter, caught off guard and stumbling. What did he just say? “Don’t tell me you mean you have a crush on me.”

“I’m almost positive I just did.” His discord icon stares right back at you, taunting.

“You know, you’re very casual for someone who just admitted they like-like me.” Your cheeks flush pink and you have to press a hand to your chest to keep your breathing sounding stable.

“Yeah, I’m kind of cool like that,” he offers, a huff of a laugh punctuating his statement. The conversation moves into a lull that you can’t help but know is because of you. He must expect you to say something about it, right?

“You are very cool, Sapnap.” You tilt back in your chair, sucking in a breath to prepare yourself for your next words. “And—Isortakindofhaveacrushonyoutoo.”

He must understand you, for you can hear the grin in his voice when he asks “Really?”

“Y-yeah.” You feel like a preteen again, all shaky and giddy in front of the boy you just asked to a middle school dance.

“Um, alright. What do we do now?”

“I don’t know,” you answer genuinely and swing in a happy little circle in your chair. “We could play Animal Crossing.”

“I’m down.”

You swear you’ve never heard more beautiful words.

He keeps his camera off for most of the time you two play, too focused on creating his island and asking you questions about how to fish to turn it on. He silently flips it on when you help him decorate his lawn, needing to show you in real-time the decorations he has bought and where you think he should put them. He looks cute. I mean, of course he does. He always does.

You tell him goodbye late in the night, eyes saying a little more than just “see you tomorrow”.

You like him. He likes you.

It’s even better when you two have matching gardens.

A/N: anybody and everybody (especially my precious hailey) let me know what you think!! :]

#sapnap #mcyt #sapnap x gn!reader #sapnap x reader #sapnap x you #sapnap fluff #sapnap drabble #sapnap oneshot #bubblyhoneyfics #honey answers #mcyt x reader #🥚except small

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enderwoah · 3 years ago

Text

ORIGINS SMP HEADCANONS (because i love them): SEASON TWO EDITION BAYBEEE

(this is really long ENJOY :gun:)

tommy

he is phil's son smile

phil's most recent son at least

he's got like one more somewhere

he picked this one up off the dangerous streets a few years ago and he's been sticking with phil ever since

his wings are small- not too small to fly, but they're untrained to the point where it would take a lot or work to get him off the ground

but at first, he didn't really seem to want to learn all that much?

(he has three scars on his face- all from trying to learn how to fly when he was younger)

(he gave up after the third one)

("if at first you don't succeed; try, try again" is his motto, and he tried all three times)

but!! phil and wilbur are very persuasive :) and now that he knows he can fly, he's not going to rest until he does

he's a little manipulative to get what he wants sometimes, but can you blame someone that lived on the street for so long?

he had to do that to survive! it's not his fault.

(it's a great excuse.)

he laughs like a kookaburra amen

he squawks when he gets scared

he chirps. he tries not to because it makes phil go absolutely bird-brained but he does sometimes and he hates it.

tubbo

NOW'S YOUR CHANCE TO BE A B[GUNSHOTS]

god he is. so fucking annoying (/rp)

he simply does not know when to stop

he ignores social cues to see when someone is annoyed

(see: he can read social cues. he does read social cues. when you get annoyed that's when he starts being more annoying, because you're more likely to give him what he wants to get him to shut the fuck up.)

he loves talking to (at) people, especially people he doesn't really know that well

so he's trying to be friends with ranboo, but the absolute prick keeps trying to avoid any actual conversations, so that's not working

he buzzes when he gets excited-happy

his fingertips are completely blackened and horrendously sharp, functioning as ten individual stingers

they don't do any actual damage but he's working on that

techno

wither hybrid (??)

how can you be a wither hybrid?? nobody got down and dirty with the wither

he's an experiment

the reason we haven't seen him yet? he's staying away from the main area of the smp

he doesn't want to ruin its natural beauty with his withering effect, so he keeps to himself on the outskirts of the smp

which sucks

withers get health from killing things

he's not fully a wither, so he gets energy from being around people and sort of draining their life force a little bit

he feels terrible when he's with just one person because they are Literally his life support and it makes the person feel like shit

when he's with a big group of people its great!! he only has to take a little bit from everyone and its barely noticable!!

but then there's the wither part. so he has to stay away.

he's always tired

always exhausted

he's a farmer, so taking it from animals works, but god does he miss people

but he can only visit a few times and for very short

(he's afraid that one of these days he'll get so bad that the next time he sees someone he'll accidentally kill them)

(it already happened once. he's blessed that he's been forgiven, even made friends with by the victims, but he doubts he'll be able to pull that off again with no consequences like last time)

wilbur

phantlings are dead elytrians, and given that wilbur was phil's son...he's a phantling

he died in the late 50s and was a librarian when he was alive, so he's very possessive (ha) over all of his things

you should never ask to "borrow" anything from him, he will hound you about it until you give it back

it's best to just say that you want something from him to keep

even if youre going to give it back

just for your own peace of mind

phantlings can feel fear and get a genuine feeling of elation from scaring people

of course, sometimes its unwelcome (feeling large amounts of fear from someone they care about in a bad way just makes them pissed)

but for the most part, wilbur loves appearing in the corner of people's visions just to jumpscare them a few minutes later

all in good fun, of course!! it's just hilarious :)

being the lighthearted, fun guy he is, he's not particularly secretive about his method of death

"how did i die? well, it all started -- ended -- on november 16th, 1958!"

"i walked out of the library late, since i took the shift for my wife since she was feeling sick and i worked there anyways,"

"the streets were dark and only lit up by gaslamps...and out of an alley...appeared..........."

techno.

he didn't mean it. wilbur isn't at all mad at him (anymore)

he was starving. he didn't know that one touch would be enough to fully revitalize him...

and murder wilbur where he stood.

sneeg

has details on everyone on the server

you Cannot Hide Shit From Sneeg

its impossible

if you find of his any shittly little mouse holes then you're doomed

you find one and there are twenty more

he's under your floorboards while you're having your important discussion about trapping the nether roof

sucks to suck ig??

he seems to be the favourite of many, which is weird since he rarely goes out of his way to actually talk to many people

he's the only person that tubbo doesn't actively try to annoy (or maybe he just doesn't find tubbo's antics all that annoying)

he's the only person that ranboo stays around (or maybe he stays around ranboo- he and Phil seem to be the only ones not off-put by his slightly sadistic and whiny demeanour (not counting tubbo, who annoys him anyways)

phil seems to be more protective of him than he thinks is normal (he lets sneeg ride on his shoulder while travelling, so he doesn't really complain)

niki is completely protective over him (again, not complaining)

contrary to popular believe, he does not get high from sugar

if anything he gets

high-per

(get it)

(high-per)

(hyper)

he's literally just a nine-year old getting a sugar rush leave him alone

phil

take the normal "bird-brain" headcanons and multiply it by like sixty-four

and you've got origins phil

he can't see glass- or, rather, he can, but it doesn't register that 'hey, this is a solid surface i am going to slam into'

its very funny for everyone else but he's pretty sure he has permanent brain damage from the blunt force trauma

if there is ANYONE on the server who dares to chirp, bird or no, they must understand that they are signing away their privacy and giving phil the right to go absolutely bonkers over them momma bird style

(shoutout to tommy, wilbur, ranboo, and fundy for having to suffer through this)

"oh??? you don't have wings?? you don't have feathers?? omg?? then what's this im preening?? what do you mean im just braiding your hair?? nono this is preening smile"

god help you if you dare to have wings

poor tommy, wilbur, sneeg, and tubbo

phil can't help himself alright

do you think he wants to be any sort of protective over sneegsnag?

no!! but he cant stop himself!! sneeg might damage his wings if he keeps flying those super long distances!!! nnnno! carry the bug man!!!

it's weird, he's always had that protective sense over ranboo, too

but ranboo very obviously doesn't have wings, so he doesn't get it...

ranboo

yes ur a peasant

yes ur poor

yes im cooler than u

what r u gonna do about it

the enderdragon's son! partially a dragon, partially enderman, partially human (don't ask, his other mom is a hybrid), all spoiled brat!

given that he has a ton of dragon genes, he's extremely possessive over his stuff and Yes He Does Do The Hoarding Thing

he has a pile of rings and gold chains and necklaces and most of his jewellery hidden underneath his bed

(if you ask him, no, he doesn't)

not to wear

just to Have

one time, fundy stole one (1) bracelet from the hoard and ranboo was sent into a panic for a good 24 hours

he wouldn't leave his cave and kept counting and recounting as if that'd make the missing piece reappear

(when fundy had to give it back because of the guilt, he expected to get his face bitten off)

(instead, he just watched as the prince was flooded with relief, telling him to get the hell out and nothing more)

it's weird, he has so much gold and even a crown, and yet here he is

living with all those people ^^^

truth be told, the enderdragon isn't a very nice dragon

nor is she a very kind queen

nor was the other queen

nor was her son

there was a mutiny in the end, leading to the dragon queen and her wife being killed brutally by the crowd of angered people

they went after their son next, who had ordered executions and worked servants to the bone just as much as they had

they cut off his wings in the middle of the square

he was sure he was going to die until a random person (a peasant) jumped up and yelled at them for publicly torturing a child

but ranboo didn't really catch all of it, given he was delirious from pain

he got to get some stuff quickly and escape with his life

this wasn't too long ago, either, so he's still trying to...adjust...to people talking rudely to him

(he's also trying to adjust to not having wings)

(hence why he hurls himself off the edges of cliffs and then has to teleport to the bottom instead of glide. he keeps forgetting.)

#this is so long #origins smp #originssmp #ranboo #tubbo #philza #philza minecrft #sneegsnag #wilbur soot #technoblade #tommyinnit #help this is so long

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fwkei · 3 years ago

Text

Time.

Kazutora x fem!reader (angst/fluff)

CW/TW: Mentions of suicide, (slight) mention of starvation.

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR VALHALLA ARC

Note! Explanation of story at end just incase you’re confused also i apologize for mistakes, i did not read this over. 🙆🏻‍♀️

WC: 3.4k

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

You sat at the edge of your seat. Watching the clock above your teacher's head ever so closely.

“When you want to find the common di-”

Suddenly the bell rang, interrupting your teacher from his final words.

“Oh my bad, guess I lost track of time, anyways please remember to study for your quiz on Monday! I know it's a weekend, but save some time for academics!” said your teacher as your classmates packed up their stuff to leave.

Today was Friday, meaning it was the day you get to visit Kazutora at juvie for the first time after Keisuke's death, and your attempt. It was 3:30, and visiting hours started at 4 to 5 every Friday for inmates. Running to the metro takes about 5-7 minutes, and walking from the station to the actual juvie takes about 20 minutes, while the ride lasts up to 10, meaning you should arrive there at around 4:10. And there's no time to waste.

You ran out of class, ignoring your fellow classmates goodbyes. You held your book bag tight as you ran fast to the Tokyo station. Seeing you arrived just on time you jumped in just before the 3:30 o'clock train leaves to a different side of the district where Kazutora is being held. You held onto the rail beside you to keep yourself steady as the train started to move .

You felt scared but happy to see Kazutora. He most probably didn't know you would be coming, he probably thought you would at most write letters to him, like before, but again...Kazutora believes that you hate him now. You didn't know what you were going to say to him. Draken told you that he already visited him while you were in psychiatric hold for a bit, and he told you that Kazutora was planning on killing himself. Draken did not specify if he told Kazutora about your own attempt but you didn't worry too much because you were healing, and you now had hope.

Your heart was racing, as the train came to a stop. As the doors opened you ran, and fast. Dodging people to not hurt them and almost stepping on things you shouldn’t be stepping on. You checked the time to see it was 4:01, and you still had about 10 minutes worth of walking/running to cover.

You were breathing heavily when the Juvenile building came into view. You checked the time again to see it was 4:11. You jogged to the doors of the building despite the fact that your thighs were burning from the amount of cardio you had just done.

It's all worth it.

You thought to yourself opening the doors.

Kazutora sat on the bed of his bland and colorless cell. He signed as he looked up at the ceiling light before turning his position to look at the side of the wall. He held his pillow tight. He knew it was visiting day, and his heart was anxious despite the fact that others had already been called to see their visitors, and there was still no call for him. He didn't even expect any visitors.

Kazutora didn't know if he wanted to see you or not. He’s spent so much time alone in his cell thinking. He wondered if you had figured out the other reason for him stabbing his best friend, you could read people, but he knew you had a hard time reading him. He felt his heart ache. He was scared of the karma that would hit him because of it. Maybe not even Karma, but just some sort of punishment, for causing pain to the soul that cared for him so much, and for not being there for that soul when she needed it the most. Which... ultimately lead to your attempt, which Draken told him about during his visit. He shut his eyes as he remembered Draken's words.

“I don’t wanna hear you say there is no point anymore. Because there is, and it’s kinda frustrating and irritating how you can’t see it even though it’s right there. She’s in psychiatric hold right now because she was close to ending her own life. After Baji died, and you were taken away, Y/n couldn't take it anymore, and no one could see it because she just...she just kept it in, like you do. She was going to die on Baji’s birthday if I wasn’t there to make her throw up the pills she took. Her and I may not be blood related siblings, but I know she’s been through a lot and has always gotten over it just fine, you know that...but this time...I got really fucking scared.”

Kazutora felt his heart drop to fucking hell at Draken’s words. He felt his breathing stop as his mouth parted.

“I know you love her, I'm not sure in what way but I could care less about that. I know, Kazutora. All those times you came crying to the brothel, crying into her arms, begging for some type of help and she helped you, lended you her body for you to cry on, I’d hear all of it. I know you’re hurting, but if you go, I don't think she will be able to live with herself. She’ll blame herself for not being there for you like she’s always been. Do you understand?”

He felt his body throb from literal physical pain. Kazutora was feeling and getting the punishment he deserved right then and there.

“You owe it to her, whether you like it or not, to stay alive because she's doing the same for you. And once you’re out of here, you should finally grow up. Let her cry into your arms for once. She’s your best friend, right? Because she deserves for those efforts to be reciprocated. And you deserve to see what she’s gone through because of everything that happened. Take care, Kazutora.”

Kazutora was lost in his own mind, to the point where he couldn't even register that one of the guards was calling his name from the cell door.

“Hm? I’m sorry I wasn't...uh, paying attention. What did you say?” he asked sitting up nervously

“You got a visitor, kid. C’mon get up.” said the man unlocking his cell

“A- visitor?” he said quietly getting up from his bed with shocked eyes

It was already 4:15. Kazutora grew anxious at who his visitor could be. He was sure it wasn't you, your school is too far for you to make it here in time. There would only be a couple minutes to spare if you did try. Could it be Draken wanting to give him a word of advice? Or maybe Chifuyu.. Maybe Mikey? God, who could it be. It made him feel even more congested and trapped than before.

As Kazutora walked, he looked down at his feet avoiding people's gazes. He saw the backs of his fellow juvenile delinquents from the side of his eye. His heartbeat became stronger, and he felt it thumbing in his ears. God, he didn't know what to expect. He was just so...frustrated.

“Here, you have until 5.” said the guard, taking off his hand cuffs. His back was facing you. You grew anxious bringing your hands to rest on your things and skirt, waiting for him to turn around and look at you. You watched as he rubbed his wrists and sat down at the stool still not looking at you. You rubbed your hands together under the table separating you both, as the guard walked away to patrol. Your eyes followed the guard, not even noticing that Kazutora had turned to look at your face.

Kazutora felt his face get hot at the sight of you. You had a school shirt on, with a dark blue tie and a sweater vest, Your hair tied into a low and messy bun with some of you natural and dyed hairs falling out framing your face. He felt his whole body go warm as you turned your head and gave him a nervous smile as a small blush formed. He didn't know why he was scared to see you, because every time Kazutora had the chance to see you, he instantly felt better, no matter what.

You two, and the other inmates and visitors, were all separated by a piece of plastic with a vent to capture sound better. On the side there was a subsection with an opening to the other side where you could pass things through. Such as notes, toys, hygiene stuff, and extra. You brought your hands to the table holding them.

“Hey...sorry I’m late.” you said as you saw Kazutora snap out of his gaze

“Oh no I-, please don’t be..” he said waving his hands frantically, clearly nervous

“I had to run about 2 miles to get here..” you laughed trying to not tense up

Kazutora felt… stupid, why would you do that? Just to see him? It just made him even more confused...confused about how he felt towards you.

“Just to see me? But..why?” he asked without thinking and just speaking, giving a regretful and embarrassed face after asking his question.

“Hm? Oh well it's simple really…” you said bringing your hands to rest in between your thighs on your seat

“I know that I've told you that I don't like saying these words to people because it sounds like some sort of goodbye but it’s time I grow up from my past, and stop keeping things in..so…it’s because I love you... I thought that was fairly obvious but I don't wanna mess up like I did last time. I want you to know that I do love you and care for you.” you said giving him a closed eyed smile, this made Kazutora realize that you deeply regretted not telling Keisuke that you loved him more often when you two still had time. He felt his heart ache. He felt so guilty and gross.

“So, I’m gonna try and start saying that more often..” you said laughing to break the silence

Kazutora was still speechless at what you had just said. He couldn’t seem to process it, and he wanted to say it back but for some reason he just couldn’t. He was afraid that something else might slip out. He truly didn't think he was worthy of your love and care. It became quiet. Again.

“I made you a bento box with your favorite things, I made sure to put some extra meat. Cause you always used to ask for that when I would make bentos for study days with you and Keisuke. And don’t worry! It’s allowed and you can have the kitchen hold it for you till you’re ready to eat it for today's dinner, the guards said so. And the container is microwave safe! So you can warm up the entree section. There’s rice and BBQ meat, little octopus shaped sausages and sauce with it! Oh and a salad with sesame dressing on the side, and desert which is just mochi. Every Friday I'll come by, and give you the new bento and you'll just give me back the old one, so that I can wash it and so we don't have to waste stuff.” you said smiling

Your hand dung into your bag, and you pulled out a wooden bento box sliding it halfway through the subsection, but Kazutora hung his head low. You smiled, trying your best to make things right, as silence grew loud again.

“I can also bring some mangas for you, I know you like shounen and also horror.. So I can buy some and give them to you so that you aren't bored! This week's shonen jump is good… It’s about a boy who is trying to save his mom, and ends up traveling across lands, with close friends, to get this special potion that will heal her, but I’ll make sure to look for some good horror manga too...I know you like stuff about folk tales, that sound okay?”

Silence.

After a few minutes you spoke again.

“I decided to let my hair grow out cause I kinda miss having longer hair…There's this really pretty girl in my class who has long blonde hair.. Like Emma’s but longer and more wavy.. What about you? Anything you wanna do to your hair when you get out? I’ll take you to get it done-”

Silence.

The time now at 4:40. Kazutora bit his lip out of frustration, refusing to look up at you.

“Oh! What about I bring over a sudoku book, so you can work on your academics as well! I can teach you how to play, it’s fun once you get the hang of it. Or I can bring just a simple literature book, it’s really up to you, I think both are great.”

Silence.

“Maybe markers so you can draw on yourself when you’re bored? I remember you doing that while I would tutor you and Keisuke. I can get big and small ones, and ones with different colors too. Also a sketch book, since you’re really good at drawing.”

You were met with silence again. You felt your heart ache. Your eyes looked up at the clock and saw it was 4:47. You both were running out of time. About half an hour went by of your speaking, you giving a couple minutes in between waiting for him to speak back, but nothing. You clenched your hands into fists, biting your bottom lip as you looked down at your hands, resting on your thighs.

You felt a strong feeling in your throat, the feeling you get when you’re about to sob. You were so frustrated, and you were trying to keep a level head. It was hard and you just wanted to fucking cry.

“I- '' you said before closing your mouth realizing you were about to let out a whine. You didn't wanna cry, you wanted to say something but you were afraid that if you did, it would just come out as a sob.

“I know it’s hard on you-” you said holding back your sobs while still looking down at your hands, letting your hairs cover your face

“If you don’t want me here, I promise- that I’m fine with that...but~” you said in between pauses keeping your sobs in, but your last word came out shaky making Kazutora shoot his head to see you about to cry.

He felt his heart ache once again.

“But please….jus-just say something. Anything. At least acknowledge that I'm here.” you cried quietly while tensing up your shoulders

Kazutora frowned. This was his punishment. Seeing you cry, and not being able to hold and comfort you like he desperately wanted to. He opened his mouth, but closed it soon after when nothing came out. Not even a squeak, or whine, or breath.

“I-”

You heard him say. You looked up with tears in your eyes seeing his face of desperation.

Kazutora wanted to speak so badly, there were so many thoughts in his head he just could not push one out of his mouth, and he was afraid he might say something he would regret. He wanted to respond to everything you asked him, add commentary, tell you that you looked pretty today, say thank you for the food you made him. Tell you to not waste your tears on someone like him. Say sorry for making you feel uncomfortable because of his silence. God he just-

“I love you-” he choked up and said in a louder tone causing your eyes to widen and mouth to part from shock at his sudden outburst.

He was avoiding your eyes as he spoke.

“I- thank you, thank you so much for the food! Really! And I would really love whatever and everything you bring me.” he said, quieting down towards the end.

“I...can’t put my thoughts into words… and I don’t wanna say something I’d regret. All this time I’ve just been lost in my own mind. I just want you to know that..that I really am in- that I really appreciate you. I want you..to be here, and I’m so...sorry for making you cry.” he said in between pauses of frustration and embarrassment

You felt your body get warm, your heart beat was strong and you could feel it in your finger tips and temples. You opened your mouth to say something before Kazutora spoke again.

“I..wanted to.. Wanted to help you...in just some way...after seeing you cry for the first time...with Baji in your arms….I shouldn't have stabbed Baji...I took the person you loved more than anything...away from you.. Because I was j- because I was so stupid, and still am. Even when you’ve done...so fucking much for me...I- and I took him from you...I just don’t get it… how can you have any empathy towards me anymore.. It doesn't make sense. I took so much from you… I killed Shinchiro, and I killed Baji. You loved them both...Mikey loved them both, why do..why do you even have any feeling towards me?” he said looking into your eyes with tears

Your eyes softened at him. You took a small breath before saying-

“I thought I already told you why, Kazutora. I love you.”

Kazutora felt a tear run down his cheek. He knew how much thought came behind those simple words.

“I don’t need a reason to love you. Just like I don't need a reason to be hungry. It’s just there, and will continue to be there, you know what I mean? Same thing with everyone I love.” you said

His breath hitched. The time now at 4:52.

“The only difference is I was in love with Keisuke. I still am in love with him. Even though he’s not here anymore. I know you might think I love him and Shinchiro and Mikey because they saved my life and helped me. But I was only so little. I had no concept of it. So was Keisuke. So was Mikey. Keisuke had no reason to come up to little me while I was starving on the ground practically dying. He just did it. He was too young to understand love. You think he understood his feelings for me the second he saw me? Or even with Mikey or Shinchiro. Of course not. They were just focussed on saving my life at the time. We discovered the love that was involved later. Even if it was too late to say anything about it. It took Kei and I about...hmmm..5-7 years maybe...to understand what we felt toward each other specifically. It is different with everyone. The love is just there, it’ll just be understood when the time is right. Like when your hunger just hits you. So when you ask me why I love you, or care for you, or forgive you. I just can’t give you a simple answer, even if I wanted to….because there's so much. Too much.”

Kazutora understood your words. He really did. It made so much sense to him and he just wanted to scream.

Why? Well..

“The time will come where you believe that you're worthy of someone else's love and even your own, and even worth loving someone else yourself. So don’t worry. I’ll wait. I’ll wait as long as it takes. Even if it takes all the time in the world, okay?” you said smiling at him leaving him with shocked eyes

“Alright times up! 5 o'clock!” yelled a guard

“Well, I'll see you next Friday, okay? I’ll bring over some manga, oh! And don't forget the bento!” you said getting up from your seat as Kazutora did the same keeping his hands on the table as the guard came to cuff them

“Y/n I-I’m…”

No. He can’t say it. He can never ever say it. Why? And say what?

Because he will never be him. He can never be like him for you, and he was perfect for you. He was the one there for you. He had the time to love you. He was the one. He could never even compete. Not after what he did. Not after the jealousy and envy grew and brewed inside him towards him. He is filthy. Not worthy of your love. Right?

But someday, he desperately and genuinely wants to allow himself to be loved, and to love. Kazutora will forever be longing for that moment. And when he can love, and allow himself to be loved, he wants it to be with you.

But till that time comes..

“I’ll...really be looking forward to it.” he said biting back his words and smiling softly

“Likewise.” you said smiling as you both parted your ways, at least for the time being.

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

Explanation/note: when i wrote this, i made y/n be a ‘foster’ siblings with Draken and childhood friends with Mikey and Keisuke. << Reason being is because i gave her a backstory where she was neglected and ran away, hence her having a more naturing personality. Y/n and Keisuke were a couple till he died but Kazutora always loved Y/n so it’s a love triangle in a way? I don’t know, but Kazutora grew envious of Keisuke in this ff which ended up being a motive to stabbing him during the fight, to which he later regrets and gets punishment for. Y/n in the story doesn’t know that so that’s why Kazutora can’t accept her love for real because he doesn't know if Y/n will really forgive him after that, and Kazutora won’t be able to learn/accept love till he admits what he did. Holding in that secret, and being in love with Y/n makes him feel frustrated and act out. And obviously time is the theme of this whole story. Kazutora at the end decided to avoid his feelings because the way things are going right now fro the time being for him are fine because he doesn't believe he deserves anything more. But that can only last for so long, so he’s gambling with his relationship with you. He thinks of it as his punishment for now, not being able to tell you how he really feels, and not being able to comfort you.

ANYWAYS hope you liked it, sorry if it’s confusing.

#tokyo revengers #tokyorev x reader #kazutora #kazutora x reader #angst #keisuke baji #baji #mikey tokyo revengers #draken #tokyo manji gang #baji x reader

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marvelouspeterparker · 4 years ago

Text

all worth it

pairing: tom holland x interviewer!reader

summary: tom is an actor, doing interviews is a part of his job. but there’s just something about you that makes him feel like the stress that comes with press tours and interviews is all worth it.

warnings: none, just fluff

notes: literally got this idea from looking at an onward interview gif (the one where he recites the lines from back to the future, iykyk) also imagine the pandemic never happened in this jfskgh

so tom loves his job, obviously

he gets to be his number one favorite superhero, make people happy, do what he loves, and more

but that doesn’t mean that there are no downsides to his career

there is actually a lot of stress that comes with being in the limelight and that includes people constantly watching your every move, being critiqued, questioned and put on the spot

and the perfect time for all this to occur? during interviews

now some of the time, interviews are nice, sometimes they’re even fun

but unfortunately a lot of the time, the same questions are asked in each and every one, one after the other, for hours on end and it honestly gets very boring and very draining very fast

so to be quite frank, he wasn’t expecting much when he walked into the next room for his last interview of the day

but when you walked in, he couldn’t help but perk up a bit

you were pretty and you seemed very nice as well, greeting everyone, including the crew as you made your way over to tom, jacob and zendaya

some of the interviewers would just walk straight to their seat and start the questions almost immediately, no warmth in their manners––but you, you were different

you shook each of their hands, smiling wide as you said hello

you couldn’t really contain your enthusiasm, you were a big marvel fan, and a fan of each of them, so you couldn’t tame your smile even if you wanted to

your energy was infectious and tom was more than grateful for it

when you reached him, he looked into your eyes deeply and you had to snap out of your daze before you made a fool of yourself

‘hello darling’ he licked his lips as he looked up at you, a gracious smile on his face and you blinked a couple times before responding

‘hi it’s––so nice to meet you, i’m a big fan.’ you turned to look at the others, ‘of all of you, really.’

they all ‘aww’ed and accepted your compliments, thanking you as you took your seat

when you were given the green light to start, you gave a curt nod to the crew behind the cameras and started right away

you were professional and good at your job, making the cast feel welcome and at ease after a long day of work

you told jokes, asked interesting questions that others hadn’t and since you were a marvel fan, you were able to ask specific questions that showed your genuine interest in the comics, the films, the plots and more

tom could feel himself getting more comfortable as the interview went on and the smile never left his face throughout the entire thing

when it ended and they turned the cameras off, you all felt a bit disappointed that you would have to say goodbye so soon, you were all having a good time and genuinely laughing so hard that your cheeks hurt

you thanked them all for their time and jacob was quick to wave you off

‘no thank you––i think we can all agree that we saved the best for last today.’ he looked to his friends and they nodded along

zendaya chimed in ‘for real, this was fun.’

you smiled, honored that you managed to make their day a little better and tom spoke up quietly, making you turn to look at him

‘yeah this, this was really great. thank you y/n.’

you could feel your cheeks heating up but you nodded, smiling as you tried your best to calm your raging heartbeat ‘my pleasure’

tom would have loved to speak with you more afterwards honestly, but unfortunately as soon as he exited the room, he and his friends were being ushered towards the next location for the day, preparing for the long week they still had ahead of them

though you had hoped to see more of tom, you only had one interview with him, so you wouldn’t be seeing him any time soon

or so you thought, anyway

your boss surprised you with a chance to go to the premiere, and interview some of the cast and other actors on the red carpet of course (since you were there for work)

you honestly thought that if tom did see you, he would only give you a small wave, maybe a slight head nod at best since you’d already interviewed him, but to your surprise, when he saw you, he smiled immediately and made his way over to you, swerving away from his entourage (which consisted of his brothers, assistant, and others you didn’t recognize)

‘hi love, how are you?’

his eyes were shining under the bright lights on the carpet and there were hundreds of shouts and conversations going on around you, but he somehow managed to make you focus only on him, from his voice and presence alone

‘good! how are you? you excited? nervous?’

he laughed, tilting his head, ‘both, but you know, i’m really proud of this film and i’m ready for people to see it’

you didn’t have much time to talk since there were plenty of other interviewers, journalists and on top of that he had to take pictures so you wished him good luck and he thanked you genuinely

‘i have to run, but be sure to tell me what you think of the movie afterwards, yeah? i know you’re a marvel fan, wanna see if it lives up to your standards’ he winked and you stuttered for a bit, agreeing as he walked off

you were shocked that he wanted to hear your opinion, but granted there was a camera on you both, which you might have forgotten about while you were talking

but you couldn’t help but think, was that flirting? does he really want to know what i think?

you tried to push the butterflies down and focus on the film as you watched and honestly, it was easy to forget about everything else once you looked at the screen

the film, the plot, tom––everything was so captivating and entertaining, you couldn’t look away even if you tried

it wasn’t until after the film had ended, and you’d stayed for both end credit scenes that you realized you had no way of contacting tom

surely he would have things to do after this, after parties maybe? so you most likely wouldn’t see him outside

and it’s not like he followed you on instagram––he probably wouldn’t even see your dm if you sent one

as you were on your way out, thinking about all this, you felt a hand tap your shoulder and you turned, a smile on your face

but soon realizing it wasn’t who you’d hoped, you tried to not let the disappointment show on your face but as you looked clearly, you realized the man looked familiar

‘hi’ he smiled, ‘i’m tom’s assistant’ you nodded, greeting him a little confused

‘tom’ he started, pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket, ‘wanted me to give you this’ he handed you the paper and you opened it, feeling your stomach jump when you realized a number was scribbled on it, signed -tom ;)

without even realizing, you stared at the ink on the paper for a few seconds silently before his assistant snapped you out of it

‘he wanted you to know that he’s not a dick and he would have come if he could’

you laughed and looked up at him

‘honestly he felt really bad he couldn’t come himself, trust me.’

you nodded and put the paper in your bag, ‘thank you, i’ll be sure to use this’ you smiled

he smiled too, ‘tom hopes you will’

you had a feeling that tom would be busy that night, and probably hungover the next morning, so you waited a couple of days before contacting him

and during those two days, tom was honestly freaking out inside...and outside

were you not interested? was he too forward? did he do something wrong? did you get the wrong idea of him?

he was even texting harrison, jacob and zendaya about it in their group chat

tom: i’m an idiot aren’t i

zendaya: yeah but we already knew that

tom: 😑

harrison: i’m sure she’ll text you, maybe she’s just busy

jacob: yeah man, you’re a total catch

jacob: and anyway if she doesn’t want you, i’ll have you 😏

tom: thanks babe 😘

zendaya: i’m just gonna go––

tom: but anyway, i don’t think i’ll ever shoot my shot ever again because this is just embarrassing

not even a full minute passed before the he send the next text

tom: nevermind she just texted me

tom almost dropped his phone when he saw the message pop up

maybe: y/n: hi tom! this is y/n :) i’m free to give you my thoughts on the movie when you are

you felt like you were going to be sick when you hit send on the message––you didn’t want to bother him, it’d been several days, what if he changed his mind?

and you––nevermind he responded immediately

tom: hi darling :) i’m glad you used my number

tom: i’m free to talk now actually, we could facetime if that’s easier? only if you want, of course

you paused when you read his text, luckily you had showered and gotten dressed today so you didn’t look a mess but you opened the camera just to check if you looked alright

were you really about to facetime tom holland?

when you finished fixing your hair, smoothing down your eyebrows and licking your lips, you swallowed your nerves and replied

y/n: sure, i’d like that

he took a deep breath and hit the call button, eagerly waiting for it to connect when you answered

when you both came into view, you smiled, greeting each other shyly

‘was a little worried when you didn’t call me that night’ he admitted sheepishly

your brows raised, surprised ‘oh i just––i assumed you would have been busy you know, after parties and all that’ you laughed and he joined you, a small smile on his face

‘darling even if you called me during the party, i would have left just to talk to you––missed hearing your voice honestly’

when you paused to answer a blush coated his cheeks and you couldn’t help but think how cute he looked

‘sorry was that lame?’ he laughed nervously and you shook your head, biting your lip to suppress your smile

‘no––that was, really sweet actually. i––like talking to you too, it’s really nice’

soon you get to talking about the actual movie and you couldn’t stop the praises from flowing

‘honestly it was incredible tom, you were incredible, i loved it’

‘thank you love, i’m really glad you enjoyed it, i was hoping you would.’

and the way that tom smiled bashfully and blushed, even pointing the camera away from his face to hide at one point had you swooning more than ever

after that, you and tom texted here and there, sometimes even facetiming, and he wouldn’t hesitate to compare you to his other interviewers and even tell you about it

‘had an interview today, can’t even compare it to yours, love’

you just rolled your eyes, a smile on your face ‘oh shut up, tom’

you talk often but due to both of your busy schedules, months go by before you see each other again

you run into him at red carpets for other marvel movies, and there’s never a dull moment between the two of you

‘‘there’s my favorite interviewer’ his smile was wide as he walked up to you. ‘you excited for this one?’

you scoffed, fully having a conversation with tom as though you weren’t on camera ‘of course i am, it looks amazing’

‘even better than my movies?’

you raised your hands in surrender, ‘legally, i can’t answer that’

he put a hand to his chest, acting dramatically offended ‘wow well, i guess it’s time for me to go then’

‘at least save me a seat?’ you joked

‘you know i will’ he smirked

by the time ‘the devil all the time’ press came about, you hadn’t told tom that you were assigned to interview him, honestly it was a last minute schedule change

honestly, he’d gotten good at hiding his bad moods from the public, but you’d known him for enough time now to be able to see when he wasn’t at his 100%

which is why you could see him visibly brighten up when he walked into the room and saw you

‘what are you doing here?’ he asked, clearly (pleasantly) surprised as he hugged you

‘uh, my job?’ you joked, ‘you didn’t actually think i only interviewed for the mcu did you?’

he blushed, ‘well i uh––no, obviously not’ he said unconvincingly but you brushed him aside as you got ready for the interview

once you started, tom couldn’t help but smile as he watched you, you were just really good at your job and he enjoyed being with you, even when it was for work

‘so obviously audiences are used to seeing you as peter parker, a rather lighthearted character, despite all the hardships he’s had to face––would you say approaching a character as dark as this was challenging in any way? mentally, emotionally, or just in regards to the fact that the public would be seeing a new, more sinister, villainous side to you?’

‘i mean it was a little daunting, definitely. but i was excited to sort of branch out mentally and challenge myself emotionally for this role––the story was fascinating to me and i was just so proud to be a part of this project, i tried not to think of any downsides.’

he paused and licked his lips, a glint in his eyes. ‘and honestly, we all have a little bit of a dark side, don’t we?’

you paused. of all times to flirt––

‘well hopefully not to the same extent of your character,’ you joked and thankfully the conversation smoothly transitioned elsewhere

now the fans took notice of your bond with tom

they noticed that tom seemed to smile the brightest and laugh the loudest during your interviews, even jumping into other conversations and answers to questions that were directed to his costars

there were dozens of videos, hundreds of edits––

‘tom falling for his interviewer for 9 minutes straight’

and you’d seen them––it was sort of impossible for you to not

you’d been tagged in so many of them, even your friends sent them to you

i mean you weren’t blind, tom was attractive and he did make your heart flutter but you assumed that he didn’t want a relationship since his career was only progressing, skyrocketing either––it would probably be difficult to maintain a solid relationship, or maybe he just wasn’t interested in you so you said nothing

it wasn’t until he had a break from filming that he asked you to hangout, and still you thought nothing of it, until he asked what time he should pick you up

you paused, and he even thought that you froze when really you were just processing what he said

‘like a––date?’ you asked hesitantly

he smiled, scratching the back of his head nervously, ‘yeah? yeah i––like a date.’

you smiled, ‘i would love to tom. but aren’t you worried about pictures spreading online? headlines and all that? i wouldn’t want to add any more stress––’

‘i promise love,’ he interrupted your worried rant, ‘you make it all worth it.’

#idk how i feel about this might delete it we’ll see #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland hc #tom holland headcanon #tom holland headcannon #tom holland fluff #tom holland x interviewer!reader

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yee-fxcking-haw · 4 years ago

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•Porcelain Obsession•

Summary: Tamaki has a problem, a bad problem. He's obsessed, he's desperate, and he'll do whatever it takes to have you the way he wants you.

Pairing: Pro Hero Yandere Tamaki Amajiki x Reader (both 18+)

Warnings: Yandere, stalking, noncon voyeurism, mild manipulation and sabotage, mild coercive behavior, male masturbation, panty theft, male ejaculation, cum eating. It's just real graphic, strap in.

A/N: I am hopeless, this will have a second part that will be so much more sinful with gratuitous tentacle content. Just tagged those that interacted with the posted about this fic as usual. This little series was inspire by a tiktok I saw, and I'm literally writing it for the sake of putting one zinger of line in it lol.

Playlist

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMJbubhQN/

Word Count: 4,184

Part Two: Love Me Tender

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Stunning, astounding, enchanting. You're an angel, you have to be. That's the only explanation for the way you shine, surrounded by some ethereal glow.

Tamaki Amajiki has a problem. No, it's not a problem, it's completely normal to fall in love, he's under a spell. He can't be blamed for it, he never stood a chance. Although, most people would call this a problem, but only people who don't understand.

An ignorant person would have seen him watching you from around the corner for weeks, following you to your house after work under the cover of darkness, and finally, finally getting a glance into your window at night and label him as obsessed or disturbed. He should have felt dirty for that, but he didn't, not even close. He felt almost holy.

He felt like some chosen follower that was allowed to witness a sacred ritual. He watched you all evening with immeasurable reverence. He took note of the way you ate, how intently you read, but his favorite part was watching you settle into your bed and fall asleep.

As soon as he saw it the first time, it became an addiction. Watching your body curl around your pillow, clutching the fabric as you snuggled into it. How sweet you looked, so soft, so innocent. It made his chest ache, it made him feel starved. He had to have you, smell you, feel you.

That was nearly three months ago. Now, he watches you every chance he gets. The days he doesn't get to, he feels like a pitiful addict going through withdrawal. He has to at least speak with you, know your voice, see your skin up close.

During his patrol around the city he comes to the conclusion that it has to be today. He feels like he's losing breath without knowing you, captured by your existence but suffocated by the distance. He will have you, he will do whatever it takes.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

At your age, you should at least have a friend or two, maybe go out on friday, possibly even work another job. None of that ever seems worth it, not worth the time or the money or the effort to pretend you enjoy it. Here you stay, stuck somewhere in between discontent for your situation and the refusal to do anything about it.

You only have a half hour left of your shift, everyone else has gone home and you’ve been left to do dishes and lock up, as usual. You huff and puff around the shop as you complete the final closing tasks. Anybody else could have stayed and closed, they probably should have too, considering how often you shut down by yourself so they can all go home.

Naturally, you jumped at the opportunity to stay late, where else are you going to go? Certainly not on a date or out with friends. You feel slightly better about making money while you burn the hours away, so you always end up here.

The sun has set already, leaving the illumination of the shop to the awful fluorescent lights that hang from the ceiling. It’s all so mundane, so simple, so dreadfully boring.

Then the bell above the door jingles.

You roll your eyes and throw your rag into the sink, the sign says closed. Why don’t people read? You huff out of the kitchen and into the serving area.

“Hey, sorry but we’re closed right now, we open again tomorrow-” You freeze, it can’t be him, it has to be some cosplayer, some wannabe.

“I’m sorry, I just- my phone died while I was on patrol and I needed to call my boss to let them know I was finished for the day. I was hoping there would be a phone in here that I could use.” His voice is so timid, so unsteady. It doesn’t sound anything like you would imagine the voice of a pro hero to sound.

You try to stay uninvolved with any hero business, all of the flashy quirks and the gossip and the drama. The theater of it bores you to tears, and you lack respect for anyone that uses their ability to save lives as a tool for gaining popularity. You find most heroes to be so incredibly irritating. Most of them, except one.

Suneater, the emerging pro hero that has been the focus of all of your thoughts lately. You've only seen glimpses of him in the news, seen his face on the back page of a magazine, or heard his name from other people. Any evidence of his existence rapidly became precious to you. You are not some hopeless fangirl, you do not collect merchandise or follow him around and beg for autographs.

You admire him, his subtlety, how genuinely different he is from all the other heroes. He isn’t some attention whore, he isn’t some pretty boy that’s always posing for fan service. His quirk is so unique and powerful, unparalleled by any hero on the charts right now. He’s a real hero, and so much of you wanted him to be your hero.

There he stands, right in front of you, in your shop, asking you for help. He’s far more beautiful than you could have possibly anticipated. He’s all porcelain skin and inky hair, deep indigo eyes pear out from under his magnificent hood. He stands so tall, yet comes across so reserved. He’s spectacular, he’s an angel, he has to be.

“Of- of course, it’s in the back, follow me.” You say, motioning for him to come around the corner with you as you tuck back into the kitchen.

“Thank you, this is very kind of you.” He says as he follows, cape swishing behind him as he moves. You don’t know, you can’t possibly know, how badly he wants to take you into his arms and finally know what your body feels like against his, how he wants to bury his face in your hair and inhale your scent. If he could get away with it, he would, oh how he would feel every inch of you. He can’t though, not yet. He has to be careful, he has to be smart.

I will have her, and she’ll have me.

“It’s no problem, it sucks to be stuck without a phone. I’m happy to help.” You say as you round the corner to your shop’s makeshift break room.

It’s not even a room really, just a corner tucked away with a phone on the wall and a few chairs around a cheap foldable table.

You turn to him and motion to the phone awkwardly, heat settling in your chest and all over your skin. Your heart races and you can feel your palms turning wet.

“Take as much time as you need, did you uh- are you hungry?” You ask, “I’m technically closed, but I can only imagine how hungry you are after a whole day patrolling, I could throw something together for you?”

God, you’re so sweet.

“Oh no, you d-don’t need to do that, I can eat at home.” He insists, your mind fixates on the way he stutters, the way his eyes dart down and his feet shift as he talks.

“I would like to. Please? If you’ll let me?” You say softly, heart pounding even faster when he shifts towards you slightly.

How perfect you are, already asking for permission…

“Are you sure, I really don’t want to create more work for you.” He says, eyes flicking up to meet yours. His gaze makes it hard to swallow, he looks at you so intently, you almost feel like you don’t have enough clothing on.

“No! I promise you won’t be. You’d also be missing out on the best takoyaki around if you didn’t let me, and that would be a tragedy.” You say, trying to entice him with your bold claim.

“Well I g-guess, if you put it that way.” He offers you a trace of a smile.

“I’ll get started while you make your call.” You say as you move to squeeze past him in the narrow hall. As you slide by, there’s a brief, precious moment where you stand inches from each other. You don’t dare look up at him as you skate by, You know your legs will fail you if you meet his eyes while standing so close, and you can’t risk the embarrassment of dropping to your knees in front of a stranger, even if he is a hero,

He doesn’t say a word, simple stalks towards the phone as you glide down the rest of the hallway and into the kitchen.

You slip into autopilot in the kitchen, your brain is far too fixated on the fact that Suneater is down the hall, in your shop, using your phone. You clink around some pans, prepare the octopus meat and the batter and get to work. You can’t overhear him talking to anyone with all the noise you’re making, you almost want to apologize for being so noisy.

Your mind settles on thinking about how beautiful he is, how strong he looks, how easily he could overpower anyone… especially you. The thought makes you squeeze your thighs together, it shouldn’t, but holy hell it does.

Out of the corner of your eye you see him come into the kitchen, you immediately start to berate yourself for thinking that way about him. He’s a hero, he would never be interested in something like that with someone like you.

“I think the phone is down, do you maybe have a- a cell phone i could use?” He seems almost ashamed of the question, it makes your chest ache.

“Shit, that line is always being funny. I’m sorry, but I left my cell this morning.” You say, flipping the takoyaki around in their tray so they’ll cook evenly.

“I live just across the street though, I can run and grab it while you eat.” You say, desperate to help him in any way you can.

I know you’re just across the street.

He just shakes his head and bunches his cape in his fists, a very faint blush spreads across his cheeks and it makes your heart do summersaults.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that, you’re already doing t-too much for me. You don’t need to make the extra t-trip, I can just call my boss when I’m home”

“Really, it’s not too much, if you’re worried about the extra trip you can just walk me home and use it when we get there. I imagine you would need to call as quickly as possible and get somebody on patrol now that you’re off.” You say, catching yourself a little when you sound too desperate.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable?” As he talks, he shuffles so he can press himself up into the corner of the kitchen, almost looking like he wants to melt into the wall.

“Well, considering your occupation is literally saving people, I definitely don’t feel uncomfortable, it’s not like you’re some crazy kidnapper.” You chuckle a little as you plate up the takoyaki. You try not to give attention to the twisted thoughts that enter your mind when you mention the kidnapping, pushing down the desire to be taken away from the colorless life you live.

If you only knew how badly I want to take you, to have you, keep you…

“I guess you have a p-point.” He says, taking the plate with a soft thank you. He starts stuffing his face with the spheres of breaded octopus immediately, letting a small content sigh leave his body.

“This is incredible, thank you, um, can I ask what your n-name is?” That damn stutter is going to turn your bones to jelly.

You say your name quietly, he responds by repeating it back to you, like he’s checking the pronunciation. You just nod as you open the fridge and pull out a gallon of green tea so you can pour him a glass.

“T-Tamaki, my name’s Tamaki Amajiki.” He says with his shy voice.

A warm, invasive feeling spreads through you. You have to remain calm, pretend that his real name is news to you, pretend that you haven’t spent hours searching through fanfictions listed under that name.

You chat as he finishes his food, thanking him as he mumbles compliments about you cooking in between bites. It doesn’t take long for him to take down the plate. He thanks you over and over as you clean the rest up. He stays glued to his spot in the corner until you take your apron off and hang it on the rack with the others.

“Alright, let’s get you to that phone.” You say as you grab your keys off the hook and switch the lights off.

When you turn to look at him the breath is stolen from your lungs immediately. He looks so celestial in the dark, somehow glowing in the dark. He’s stunning, he’s perfect, he’s painfully out of your league. You remind yourself of that last fact in order to still your nerves.

You turn on your heels and walk towards the door as quickly as you can without seeming rushed. He follows silently, the heavy sound of his thick cloak floating around him makes the hair on your neck stand up. He even sounds powerful.

After you exit the building, he stands with his back to you as you lock the door. His stance is protective, surveying the streets around you like a real hero. You can’t let it go to your head, it’s not for you specifically, he would do this for anyone, it’s his job.

The walk to your house isn’t really uncomfortable, but it is tense. The energy between you is painfully obvious, just not to each other. You both want to speak, ask about each other, know each other, but neither has the guts to make the first move.

While you walk, Tamaki’s head is constantly on a swivel, and he stays so very close to you. It makes your chest ache, the feeling of being so safe next to such an intimidating man. Nobody would dare approach you with him next to you. You would damn near kill to have this all the time, if not all the time at least as often as possible.

You arrive at your house after not even two minutes of tension filled strolling. Silently, cautiously, you both enter your home after you unlock the door.

"It's so cozy." Tamaki says immediately upon seeing all of the soft lights and pastels that make up your decor. He’s nearly trembling with excitement from finally being able to see inside your little world. After watching from the outside for so long, he can finally learn more about you.

"Oh, thanks, I try to keep it soft looking in here. It helps me decompress after a day at a busy restaurant." You explain, setting your keys in their dish before leading him down the hallway to the kitchen.

The house is nothing special, a simple little single bedroom, one story with a relatively open floor plan. It’s small but easy to afford and keep clean. It works for you.

“I’ll go grab the phone from my room, feel free to sit down.” You say, gesturing at the two chairs on either side of your tiny breakfast nook.

He just nods quietly, taking small glances around the rest of your house. You find his hypervigilance charming. It makes you feel incredibly secure to know he’s so aware of his surroundings.

You walk off to your bedroom then, leaving him to stand in your dimly lit kitchen.

Instantly, his eyes zero in on the laundry basket full of clothes that’s sitting on your counter. His body moves without his mind’s permission, his heart thrums in his chest once he catches something pink and lacy.

He can’t help but think you’ve done it on purpose, like you’re some spider sitting up in your web waiting for a poor little bug to stumble along and get all caught up. He’s more than willing to be that bug, and so desperate to get caught up.

He grabs the fabric quickly, as it unravels in his hands he sees what it is and his breathing stops.

It’s a pair of underwear, your underwear.

His fingers go all twitchy as he shoves his hood off to expose his pointed ears, wanting to be able to hear your footsteps.

He brings the panties and takes a deep breath in.

They’re not clean.

He has to choke back the noise that threatens to escape when he finally smells the intoxicating aroma. You smell so fucking sweet. His body reacts instantaneously, goosebumps raise on his flesh as he’s dick twitches in his pants.

God he feels dirty, but why should he? You lead him in here, after cooking for him and being so kind. You left this little gift out for him, you had to know what you were doing.

The sound of soft footsteps jolts him back to reality. He shoves the underwear deep into one of his pockets, he’ll keep them as long as he can, preferably forever.

“Sorry it took me a minute, I’m constantly misplacing everything. One of those ‘lose my head if it wasn’t attached to me’ kind of people.” You give a half hearted laugh, which he returns with a cute little chuckle as he takes your phone.

“Oh sorry about the laundry, I’m a bit of a mess today.” Hot embarrassment fills you as you grab the basket of dirty clothes off the counter and hoist it onto your hip.

“Don’t be sorry, you weren’t expecting any visitors.” He assures you, voice soft and soothing.

“I’ll run this to my room and give you some privacy.” You say, turning once again to leave him alone.

As soon as you’re out of the room his shoulders drop and he lets out a quaking breath. Having you so close after filling his mind with your smell pushed him to the very limit. He wants to grab you and lay you out on the counter, rip your pants off and shove his face between your thighs. He wants to drown in every smell and taste you can offer him. He wants to gorge himself on your sweet little cunt.

He can’t think straight. He’s fully hard, his skin is boiling and his mind is fuzzy. He has to get out of here, he has to get to somewhere hidden, Somewhere he can fuck his fist and think of playing with your soft body. Maybe, just maybe, if he stuffs your panties in his mouth he can taste a trace of you.

When you return he says a very quick goodbye, says something about stopping by your shop again so he can see you again. He doesn’t know for sure what words he uses, he’s too focused on getting out before you notice his erection, before you smell the shame wafting off of him in thick waves.

He has to go before he makes a mistake, before he ruins all of his plans.

You follow him to the door to let him out, bidding him goodnight with your gentle, enchanting voice.

You’ll never know that the phone at the restaurant worked fine, that he never even had to call Fatgum. You’ll never know that he stole from you, that he almost lost it and took you home with him. You won’t ever know that he’s not going home now that he’s left your home.

Urgently, he swoops around the corner of your house, heading straight for your bedroom window. His pants feel so tight it’s maddening, he’s frantic, he’s slipping.

As soon as he reaches the bedroom window, his favorite window, he slumps against the building with one arm as the other shoots down to his pants. He takes a quick glance around, noting that the lights in the surrounding buildings are all out given the hour.

He should be safe.

Then you walk into your room, the image of you is distorted slightly by the white sheers you have up, but only slightly, only enough to make you look like some fuzzy apparition.

She uses these curtains on purpose, she wants me to see.

You have no interest in showering tonight, now exhausted and confused. Did you say something wrong? Why did he take off like that? He did say he would see you tomorrow, though, which gives you a bubbly feeling.

You strip your clothes off, and it shreds Tamaki’s last ounce of self control.

You little fucking tease.

You undress until you’re left in your simple white underwear.

Tamaki’s hand is in his pants the second you crawl into bed. He grabs his aching length, thumbing at his head as he watches you shuffle around in the blankets. His mouth waters when he sees your collar bones, his breath hitches when he sees the way your stomach rolls when you sit. He starts to stroke himself slowly when you leave one leg out of your blankets.

His chest rises and falls rapidly as he remembers the precious gift in his pocket.

He snatches the panties out as he watches you move, as he zeroes in on the meat of your thigh. He shoves the fabric of the crotch into his mouth and bites. He bites your panties like he wants to bite your delicious looking legs.

His hand jerks more rapidly as the faintest flavor spreads across his tongue. His cheeks are pink and his eyes start to tear up as he trembles from the euphoria of knowing you this intimately. His hips thrust into his fist as he claws at the panites, pulling the fabric tight as he watches you drift off to sleep.

His mind races through every possible way he would take you. How he would ruin and claim every inch of you. The idea of you shaking beneath him, moaning his name so sweetly, begging him to keep going, maybe begging him to stop, it makes him want to break down the window.

He tongues at your panties, wishing he could swallow your slick. He feels so unbelievably envious of the fact that the fabric in his mouth has been so close to your perfect little hole. The thing he wants to taste the most, feel the most, fuck the most.

His hand tightens around his dick as he tries to imagine how tight you would feel around him. He rips your panties out for just a brief second so he can spit down into his palm, wrapping it around his cock the second the spit reaches his skin.

“Shit- fuck- shit- fucking love you.” He chokes out as his eyes stay locked on your body.

Once the panties are back in his mouth, the free hand flattens against the window.

Then you shift, hips rolling gently as you adjust your position, exposing your cute little ass to him.

“Slut- bad little slut.” He huffs out as he claws at the window. He feels his balls start to seize up as he focuses on his swollen head, fucking it as fast as he can whle he imagines you with your head buried in the pillows as you stick your ass in the air for him.

He tears the panties out of his mouth and holds the crotch of them in front of his dick, drool slips over his bottom lip as he lets out a high, broken moan while he starts to spill into them.

His body quakes and shivers as he squirts rope after rope of hot cum into his stolen prize. Tears wet his cheeks while drool soaks his chin as he strokes himself through his climax.

He chants your name over and over again, watching the way his seed ruins your pretty little panties. In his orgasmic haze, he brings the panties back to his mouth full of his own release, he laps it up as he eyes roll to the back of his head, pretending he’s made you cream yourself, pretending he’s tasting you instead.

It’s filthy, it’s depraved, but he doesn’t care, he needs it, he’d die without it. He swallows the rest of his own cum down with a greedy whine as he watches your perfect form lay there so peacefully.

He doesn’t know how long he stands there, how many more times he fucks his hand while he watches you sleep, only to leave himself covered in sweat and cum and shame. Somehow, he finds himself walking away, as much as it hurts, he knows he can't indulge himself all night.

Once he’s finally home, he collapses, body buzzing and addicted. He sleeps with your soiled panties clutched in his fist. He wakes up with one thought on his mind, he needs more.

#tamaki amajiki #tamaki smut #amajiki tamaki #mha smut #my hero smut #suneater #suneater smut #mha suneater #my hero academia smut #my hero academia #my hero fanfic #bnha suneater #tamaki x reader #tamaki headcanons #mha tamaki #tentacles #big three #fatgum

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the-badger-mole · 3 years ago

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Can you write a short story with a jealous Zuko?

PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEASE

Zuko was used to being overshadowed. By Azula; by Lu Ten; by Avatar Aang. It still often annoyed him to know that the most he could aim for was second best to someone else, no matter where he was. But he never minded when it came to Katara. Give her enough time, Zuko often told himself, and she could bring the entire world to its knees. She'd saved his life in more ways than he could count. She had saved them all, and there would never be enough people singing her praises as far as Zuko was concerned. She stood out no matter where she was. Even in spaces where the Fire Lord should have been the center of attention, Zuko knew he didn't stand a chance when Master Katara entered the room.

It should have annoyed him, Zuko thought, but it didn't. She was sunshine, for all she was a child of Water, and she drew everyone towards her like plants reaching up for Agni's rays. When she laughed, it filled the room- a bit too loud to be polite, but too infectious to really be upset over. She talked with high-ranking nobles with passion, leaving them stunned at her knowledge and convictions- this woman who was barely not a child anymore. She had earned the grudging respect of Zuko's council, which even he hadn't succeeded in doing. He should be jealous, but he watched Katara make her way around the room with pride. Maybe he wasn't as eloquent or magnetic as Katara, but he was her friend. He knew her in a way few- if any- in that room would ever know her.

Someone- Iroh, Zuko guessed- had signaled for the band to start playing. Business was done for the day. Soon the crowd had reshuffled itself, and couples began making their way to the dance floor while everyone else made their way to the buffet tables lining one end of the hall. Katara met Zuko's eyes across the room, and with a warm smile, made her way over to him. She seemed to glow supernaturally. Zuko cast a surreptitious glance to see if some prankster had aimed a spotlight on her. Was it just Zuko? How was no one else being blinded by the way the light reflected off her smile? Her hair? Her skin? Zuko swallowed hard, trying to unstick his tongue from the roof of his suddenly dry mouth.

Katara's smile widened and she opened her mouth to greet him.

"Excuse...um...p-pardon me." Katara turned in surprise to the young man who had approached her. Zuko recognized him vaguely, and he scrambled to place a name. Katara spared him the ordeal of guessing.

"Lord Jee-Soo," she smiled politely at King Kuei's cousin, though Zuko could see an odd tightness in the corners of Katara's eyes. Jee Soo, however, did not notice. His face was tinged pink and he leaned forward in a stiff, formal bow.

"I-I hope I'm not disturbing you," he said. "I was hoping that...that maybe you...er, that is...would you grant me the honor of a dance."

Zuko froze. A shock went down his spine as if someone had walked across a carpet and touched his skin. Katara gaped at him in surprise. Her cheeks flushed a pretty dusky red. Jee Soo smiled at her, nervous and hopeful. She cast a glance at Zuko, trying to communicate... something.

"Oh!" Katara gasped. "Well... I was just going to..." She cast another look at Zuko before she shrugged and smiled at Jee Soo. "Um... sure, I'd love to."

Zuko watched silently as Jee Soo wrapped a clammy-looking hand around Katara's and led her out to the dance floor. His hand squeezed his punch cup dangerously tight as Jee Soo slid his arm around Katara's waist and pulled her as close as propriety would allow. His breath caught in his throat as the young Earth Kingdom noble said something that caused Katara's nose to crinkle in amusement.

"Take care, Fire Lord Zuko," Iroh sidled up to his nephew, with an affable smile and a knowing gleam in his eye. "Someone might think there's trouble between the Fire Nation and Ba Sing Se the way you're glaring at young Lord Jee Soo."

"I'm not glaring!" Zuko insisted hotly. Still, he turned his scowl on his uncle instead.

"She would have danced with you if you'd asked," Iroh told him. "I'm sure she still would."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Zuko grumbled.

"Oh no?" Iroh tried unsuccessfully to hide his amusement. "My mistake. It's been a long time since I was young and in love. Perhaps I don't remember the signs as well as I thought."

"Perhaps not!" Zuko knew he was being peevish, but his uncle was overstepping. Zuko had admitted to having a small crush on Katara years ago, and Iroh had never forgotten, even though Zuko had gotten over her a long time ago. She was dating one of his best friends at the time.

But not anymore.

The traitorous, smug voice in his head sounded annoyingly like his uncle. It was true that Katara had broken up with Aang, but it made no difference. Even if he wasn't over Katara- and he was over her- she and Aang hadn't split on the best of terms. It wouldn't be fair to either of his friends for Zuko to insert himself in the middle of that.

On the dance floor, Jee Soo seemed to have gained some confidence. He twirled and spun Katara with expert ease. If Katara had been hesitant to dance with him before, she seemed happy enough now. Her eyes were bright and her face pink with the exertion of the dance. She was having a good time, and Jee Soo gazed at her as if half in love already.

Zuko could dance. He could dance at least as well as Jee Soo. Others may outshine him in literally every other part of his life, but Zuko's mastery of dance was part of what made the Blue Spirit so deadly. Maybe he could challenge Jee Soo to a friendly competition. Katara could be the judge. Maybe the first prize could be a kiss...

Zuko shook his head. Dangerous territory. She was just coming out of a serious relationship. With one of his best friends. True they had broken up almost a year ago. Also true that Aang hadn't been in close contact with any of them since the breakup. And there was speculation that things had ended because Aang had cheated. But Zuko didn't know that for sure. No one knew for sure except Katara and Aang. Suki probably had more of the story, which Toph probably bullied out of her. And Sokka at least suspected if his coldness towards Aang at the last summit was any indication.

Dangerous territory. Friends don't go after a friend's exes. Even if you happened to have had a thing for said ex before your friend started dating them. Even if that ex was also your best friend.

Jee Soo dipped Katara, causing her to let out a nervous, but giddy laugh. Her hands clutched at Jee Soo tightly, to keep herself steady, but as a result, they were much closer than they started at the beginning of the dance. Jee Soo's face lit up with a grin as he did it again. And again. And again.

Didn't this guy know any other moves? Katara was going to catch on to him, and she would be annoyed. Wouldn't she? Zuko knew she'd been out with a couple of other guys since the breakup. Nothing serious, though, Suki had informed him. No one who lasted more than a month. Still, Zuko wasn't sure what her type was anymore. Jee Soo reminded Zuko a bit of Aang, but just because Katara had dated Aang for three years doesn't mean he was her type. Maybe she was into quieter guys who got way too deep in their own heads and overthought hypothetical situations until they lost entire nights of sleep worrying about problems that didn't actually exist. Yeah...for sure that's what Katara would find attractive.

How long was this song, Zuko wondered. Jee Soo was dipping Katara again, though she seemed to be getting tired of it. Her smile was that polite, tight smile that she'd given him earlier when she wasn't sure she wanted him to interrupt her. Zuko saw her say something to him, probably asking him to keep her upright for a while. Jee Soo laughed and shook his head and said something teasing as he pulled her closer. Katara's smile fell away completely, and Zuko saw she was getting mad. He was halfway across the dance floor before he'd even realized he was going to go over. He was ready to yank Jee Soo away, and if necessary, deck the creep for not respecting Katara's reasonable wish. But before he got to them, Jee Soo had stepped away with a deep, embarrassed blush on his face.

"I'm so sorry," Jee Soo was saying as Zuko got closer. "Honestly, I was just trying to...well, I didn't mean to upset you or offend you."

"It's alright, Jee Soo," Katara said patiently. Her smile was back in place. The song ended, finally, and another one started up.

"Would you...like to dance again?" Jee Soo asked.

"I'm a bit tired," Katara begged off. "But I'll bet Kimiko would love you to ask her. Don't say I told you, but she's been checking you out." That didn't seem to soothe Jee Soo's disappointment, but he accepted the rejection graciously enough.

"Seems like you had fun," Zuko said. Katara sighed tiredly and slipped her arm through his.

"I thought the song would never end!" she groaned. "It was like dancing with Aang. Fun for the first minute, but he was doing way too much. All the dipping gave me vertigo." Zuko heard that with interest.

"I didn't realize you weren't having fun," he tried to keep his voice even as he led them away from the dance floor over to the punch table. "I would have come rescue you if I'd realized. We should come up with some sort of sign when you want me to cut in."

"You never dance at these things," Katara pointed out.

"I'd make an exception for you." Zuko blushed and scrambled to cover. "I mean, I'd do it if it saved you from some over-eager guy who can't take a hint."

"My hero." Katara scrunched her nose up at Zuko and leaned against him. It was adorable! Zuko had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from grinning.

"Actually..." Katara said slowly. "I was coming over to ask you to dance before Jee Soo interrupted."

"Really?" Zuko's voice hit an octave it hadn't hit since he was fourteen and his voice was still dropping. He cleared his throat, trying to ignore the fact that Katara was trying very hard not to laugh.

"Yeah," she nodded her head. "I know you don't really like dancing, but maybe you can preemptively cut in for me? Someone told me that Lord Hino's son wanted to ask me for a dance." Zuko grimaced. Lord Hino was one of his most trusted advisors, but his son was a famous klutz with two left feet. No woman left the dance floor without bruised feet when she danced with him.

"You told Jee Soo you were tired," Zuko reminded her. Why, he yelled internally, would he say that? Fortunately, Katara just shrugged and looked up at him coyly from the corner of her eye.

"I'd make an exception for you," she said quietly. Zuko froze midstep. Katara looked up at him in alarm. There was a spectacular blush rising from her neck towards her hairline, and a panicked retraction already on her lips. Zuko turned to her and took her hand. Then in a move that would have pleased every last one of his etiquette tutors and his uncle, if he was watching, Zuko bowed elegantly and brushed a feathery light kiss on Katara's fingertips. He lifted his gaze with an impish grin.

"I would be honored," he said, "to have this dance." Katara nodded speechlessly and allowed Zuko to lead her out to the dance floor again.

Zuko was used to being overshadowed. He wasn't the most powerful bender, or the most charismatic leader. He wasn't the most handsome man or the most eloquent. But there on the dancefloor, with the most beautiful woman in at the ball in his arms, he knew that no one could match him for dancing. Katara seemed to agree because she accepted his request for another dance. And another. And another...

#zutara #atla #zuko is a lil' jelly #katara is a queen #zuko is sprung #ask the badger mole #thanks for the prompt nonny

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years ago

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Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (Chapter 7)

(chapter 1) (chapter 2) (chapter 3) (chapter 4) (chapter 5) (chapter 6)

series summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind. you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman-- even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

word count: almost 3k?

warnings: slight breeding kink (but only if you speak romanian aksjghakgjhg), angst, violence (in the form of a fistfight, which the reader isn’t involved in)

Just as you always did, you woke up to sunlight streaming in through the lace curtains, and a cool breeze blowing by. What was peculiar was Sebastian next to you, sleeping peacefully as his chest rose and fell with relaxed breaths. You let yourself watch him for a moment before you decided to try to sneak out for a cup of coffee. Problem was, the bed was sort of creaky and it was very difficult to move without making sound. Your plan was to move as slowly as possible, keeping your weight evenly distributed over the mattress, and it worked rather well— right until the last second, of course, when a loud shift of the boxsprings beneath you made Sebastian stir and blink open his eyes.

You were about to apologize for waking him, but he grinned and slipped his arms around you, bringing you back to where you started and surrounding your body with his warm, muscular form.

“Bună dimineata,” he hummed as he pulled you closer, his voice even deeper and more gravelly than normal.

“Bună dimineata,” you did your best to repeat it back, making him smile even though your pronunciation wasn’t great. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” he replied softly, heavily accented and clearly more a recreation of the sounds you’d made than real English, but still intelligible and so painfully adorable as well. “A fost uimitor aseară.”

“Last night…” you began, but you didn’t even know where to begin. What could you possibly say about that? Would it even matter, if he can’t understand it. “God, you’re fucking amazing,” you blurted out with a soft laugh.

“Sa o facem din nou,” he growled as he pulled you closer and kissed you, slipping his tongue into your mouth instantly. A more self-conscious you— as in, you yesterday— would’ve worried about morning breath, but you now couldn’t taste anything but him and couldn’t feel anything but his lips on yours and couldn’t do anything but weave your fingers into his hair.

You moaned when his kisses trailed down your neck, and you wanted nothing more than to melt into his body one more time, but you had other things to attend to.

“I need to get up,” you announced as you tried to escape from his grasp, but he held you tighter and brushed his lips over your shoulder.

“Nu, nu, nu te dice,” he cooed, making you laugh and squirm. “Stai in pat, fă dragoste cu mine toata ziuă.”

“I have to get up, I’ll be right back,” you tried to explain but he stayed ever vigilant as he held you tight and licked over the shell of your ear. Finally you managed to get him to stop, as much as you didn’t really want him to, allowing you to slip out from under the covers and find your robe where it had been discarded on the floor.

He watched you as you crossed the room and popped into the bathroom for your bag, pulling your birth control pack out of it and using a handful of tap water to wash down your morning pill. “Ah,” Sebastian seemed to have a realization from the bed, and you giggled.

“Told you it was important,” you grinned.

“Probabil cel mai bine să nu ai un copil cu un străin,” he nodded, “dar nu sunt sigur că m-ar fi deranjat atât de mult dacă te-aș fi însărcinat.”

Following suit, he stretched briefly before getting out of bed and searching for his discarded jeans and boxers. You made no effort to hide your ogling as you watched his cock swing between his legs. Even soft it was thick enough that you couldn’t figure how it ever fit inside you (the delightful soreness between your legs reminded you that it was no easy feat). He took note of your staring and grinned devilishly, leaning against the wall to give you a better look. “Îți place ce vezi?” he purred.

“Should’ve known this would all go straight to your ego,” you chuckled. “I’m gonna go downstairs for some coffee. Do you want some? Cafea?”

“Da,” he nodded, as he slipped his clothes back on, “mulțumesc.” Funny how his idea of getting dressed still left him half-naked.

Foolishly, you expected him to let you pass, since you were both going to benefit from your trip to the kitchen; but of course he had to slip his arms around you from behind and give you just one more embrace, making you sigh and relax your head back against his shoulder. He kissed the top of your head and you hummed happily, letting your eyes open to look up at him before taking a moment to look out the window you happened to be standing right beside.

You were just hoping to appreciate the countryside scenery, meaning that you were rather shocked and confused to see a car pulling up. When it stopped and the driver stepped out, your eyes went wide and your back suddenly straightened itself.

“...Michael?” you gasped. You wrenched yourself out of Sebastian’s grasp and started to run down the stairs. He called after you but you ignored it.

Barreling down the stairs and out the door, you found your husband walking up the driveway.

“Honey,” he frowned when he saw you, “I’ve been trying to find you since you left— what the hell is going on? Why are you wearing a robe?”

“It’s hardly nine in the morning,” you defended before you realized there were much bigger topics at hand: “Michael, what are you doing here?” you asked, after a few seconds of confused stuttering.

“I’m taking you home!” he replied, as if it were obvious.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, “don’t play stupid. Do you think I’ve been here against my will, or by accident or something?”

“No, I saw your letter,” he sighed.

“And you saw the part where I said not to look for me, and that all future communication would come through my lawyer?”

“You’re my wife,” he replied coldly, “I think I’m within my rights to talk to you directly.”

“You shouldn’t have come here. I was actually happy before you showed up.”

With perfect timing, Sebastian stepped out the door behind you, looking to you and to Michael, and back. “Ce se întâmplă?” he asked you.

“Who the fuck is this?!” Michael asked accusingly.

“I’m gonna give you a chance to ask me that again, in a way that doesn’t make it seem like you have any place to judge what I might be doing alone with a man,” you hissed. “He’s just the groundskeeper, Mike.”

“Then why is he shirtless?” he exclaimed.

“I don’t know! He… does that a lot!” you exasperatedly shouted back.

“Look, I’m not angry,” Michael sighed. You laughed bitterly.

“Good, cause you have no right to be.”

“But I think it’s fair if I’m worried about you spending months alone with strange men.”

“Oh, strange, is that the problem? Strangeness? Would some more familiarity— perhaps a familial relationship— between you and these men make it easier on you, Mike?”

“Honey, please—”

“Don’t call me that,” you grimaced.

Michael stormed towards you, and you felt Sebastian step closer to you as well, wrapping an arm around you. Having him by your side made this significantly more awkward, but it made you feel safer, too.

“Hey man, get your hands off my wife,” Michael growled, pointing a finger at Seb.

“He doesn’t speak English,” you rolled your eyes.

“Well, I’m not sure you do either— otherwise you would realize that we’re still married, and you need to come home.”

“Just because you won’t sign the papers doesn’t mean we’re still together,” you reminded him sternly as shook your head.

“I’ll end it with your sister, is that what you want?”

You laughed, because you were afraid if you didn’t that you would cry. “Jesus, Michael! Are you hearing yourself? This sounds like a greek tragedy, or fucking EastEnders! Next I’ll be discovering I have an evil twin, and you’ll bang her too!”

He was a lot more offended by that than you expected. “It was never just sex. I love her. But I love you more,” he clarified, suddenly getting serious.

You chuckled weakly, hardly believing what you were hearing. It’s not that he was ever particularly nice, or romantic or anything, but at some point in his life he had been incredibly intelligent… and now he barely made sense at all. “Wow, you sure do know how to make a girl feel special.”

He frowned, clearly losing what little cool he’d had at first. He had always had a bit of a temper. “For better or for worse, we’re still legally married— damn it, we’ve been together for how long now? And you’re ready to throw that all away?”

“No, but you were,” you spat back.

“But I wasn’t, and I’m still not. You’ve gotta hear me out—”

“I don’t have to do anything—”

“No, you’re not listening to me—” he talked over you, again.

“I don’t owe you any more of my time—”

“Damn it, why won’t you just listen!” he growled, grabbing you by the arm suddenly. Instantly, Sebastian stepped forward and pushed him back.

“Sebastian, it’s okay,” you tried to soothe him.

“Hey, could you maybe tell your boytoy to keep his filthy hands off me?” Michael demanded at the same time.

“Mai bine ai grijă,” Sebastian hissed, also at the same time.

“I literally can’t,” you answered Michael. “I told you he doesn’t speak English.”

“Yeah, well, I think some things transcend language,” Michael bit back. “Tell me something, pal,” he addressed Sebastian, “did you fuck my wife?”

“Sper că nu spui ce cred că ești,” Sebastian shook his head, clearly on the end of his rope.

“Mike, leave him alone,” you demanded, but it came out sounding so much weaker than you meant it to.

“Did you,” Michael pointed to Sebastian, going so far as to poke him in the chest condescendingly, “fuck—” he mimed thrusting his hips, and you grimaced— “my wife?”— finally, he pointed to you.

Sebastian certainly understood that; and, in lieu of an answer, he socked Michael right in the jaw and sent him straight to the ground.

“Oh my god!” you yelped, dashing over to where your husband was crumpled into a ball on the gravel and kneeling beside him.

“What the fuck?!” Michael gurgled, holding his face in shock and pain.

“Are you okay?” you asked anxiously, spinning to look at where Sebastian was standing and looking much too proud of himself, shaking out the hand he’d just hit Michael with. “Sebastian!” you scolded, making him give you a defensive look.

“Ce?” he shrugged flippantly, though he clearly felt a little guilty when it became obvious that you were irritated with him.

And that was how you ended up here, standing in the living room and tapping your foot quickly, staring at the couch where Michael sat with a bag of ice held to his jaw, Sebastian beside him (though as far away as possible) resting with another on his hand.

“You had no business coming here,” you informed your husband coldly.

“You wouldn’t know about this place if it weren’t for me,” he reminded you. “Did you think I wouldn’t find you?”

“I thought you wouldn’t care,” you corrected.

His silence was stern, and he gave you one of those looks that used to scare you but now just made loathing and pity sink down in your chest. It was ambiguous if he was too angry to reply or if he really had no defense. After all, what reason did you have to believe that he would care about your leaving?

"If you're here to make me rescind the divorce order, it's not going to happen. I'm not leaving with you. I'm not forgiving you. Please just go," you sighed.

"That's not why I came. None of that is why I'm here," he mumbled. "I came here…" he straightened up slightly, raising his voice confidently. "I came here to tell you that I love you. I need you. And I want you back."

Now that he was looking right back at you, suddenly you couldn't take it anymore and turned your gaze away again.

"Whatever you need me to do to fix this, I'll do it. We'll get through this. Isn't that what marriage is? Fighting for each other, struggling together?" He stood up and approached you, reaching out to rest his hands on your shoulders; you almost flinched when you felt his touch, but resisted the urge, glancing up at his face before looking over at Sebastian whose injured hand was twitching as he looked away with a tight jaw. "Tell me how to make this right, please."

You tried not to look as Sebastian as you processed Michael's request; similarly, it seemed he was trying not to look at you. But even if you ignored this new, peculiar romance in your life, your marriage was still broken beyond repair and you couldn't imagine anything that could change that. "I'm sorry," you finally whispered, watching Michael's face fall, "I don't think there's anything you can do."

He released you from his grip, less angry than you expected; more somber. "I want to stay and work this out," he explained. "Better yet, I want you to come back to London— come back home— so we can be together and discuss everything there. But I'm only going to ask you one more time before I leave: stay with me. You don't need to forgive me, or even love me again, at least not yet… just give me a chance to try to earn everything I took for granted."

You'd imagined this moment so many times: cursing him out, making him grovel, kicking him to the curb. To be completely honest, you'd even imagined potentially taking him back. But now that you were here and it was, somehow, real, your desire for vengeance was fading along with your desire for reconciliation.

"I have something I need to give you," you whispered, walking upstairs and going back into your room, getting on your hands and knees to search the floor. Finally, discarded in a dusty corner with slightly uneven floorboards, you found the ring you'd tossed aside the night before. Fighting back against the tears welling in your eyes, you picked it up and came downstairs, holding it outward for Michael to take.

"I'm not taking that back," he refused, shaking his head. "You keep it for a while longer, until you're sure this is really what you want."

"I'm sure. I'm moving on. Take it back," you demanded. He sighed but reached out and plucked it from between your fingers, pocketing it though still wearing his own golden band. "Besides, my sister might want it."

He scoffed, turning as he began to walk away. "You're cold."

"Frozen solid," you agreed. "Goodbye, Michael… drive safe."

He shook his head and made a sharp exhale as he walked away, nearly slamming the door behind him. You stared off into space as Sebastian silently watched you; you didn’t want him to see you cry, but it was starting to seem unavoidable as your lip quivered and your eyes grew wide with tears.

“Shhh,” he soothed gently, standing up and stepping forward to pull you into his arms. “Nu plânge, e în regulă.”

"God, I'm so stupid," you whispered between sobs muffled against his chest. "I'm so fucking stupid…"

He whispered to you and kissed the top of your head, repeating one thing over and over that you couldn't make out well against the sound of your own crying filling your ears.

But even without knowing what he was saying or what it meant, it made you feel better.

As evening approached, you realized a new predicament had arisen: would Sebastian stay in your room again? Would you go to his? Or would you sleep separately, maybe even drift back to just being essentially housemates after a unique one-night stand?

Your questions were answered suddenly when Sebastian suddenly came to the couch and scooped you up into his arms, making you squeal a little before you relaxed and let him carry you to his room. He all but threw you onto the bed, climbing on top of you and kissing you deeply as you reached up to wrap your arms around his neck.

Already you felt more comfortable with him than you sometimes felt with people you'd known most of your life; you didn't feel self-conscious when he ran his hands over your body, you didn't try to suppress your moans when he kissed your neck for fear of sounding ridiculous— and maybe that was just because it was such a fantastical situation, so unlike yourself and so far from home, that it was easy to feel like a different person with him.

Or maybe it was that you'd spent so long trying to be somebody that people liked, and now you were being yourself for the first time in decades.

You couldn't really be sure. And since your brain short-circuited every time Sebastian whispered something in your ear that just sounded filthy regardless of what it actually meant, you didn't have the time to think about it.

#sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan au #sebastian stan fanfic

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popopretty · 4 years ago

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Storm Bringer Spoilers (6)

One of my favorite scenes where Port Mafia went all out on Verlaine in CODE;4. I like this part because it introduced a lot of Port Mafia’s skill users that have never appeared in both the manga and the other novels. It was so fun to read.

Dazai made some interesting statements and theories here too. I like the dialogue at the end, where he kinda slipped and let out some of his real emotions.

PS: I can’t believe I actually typed out 5000 words! I was drafting this on my phone so I didn’t notice the actual amount of words. I know it’s not gonna be perfect and I am gonna make mistakes and I will want to punch myself so much but gosh, I am so proud of myself now!

...

The train driver put one hand on the handle, his eyes staring at the darkness in front of him.

Twenty-seven years of service. He is a veteran. He has held this handle through rains and winds, through the Great War where the bombs poured down like rain, messing up the landform.

Even for him, today’s job is unusual.

The train company he works for was bought out overnight. Together with the trains and the service schedules. Then he was ordered to operate a temporary ride. Yet there is only one passenger on this train. Even when he protested to his boss, what he got was only “stop questioning and just drive.” And then one more thing, “If you run away, it will be even worse.”

The driver took another look at the scenery in front of him. The trees have sunk into the darkness. All he could see were the silver railroad tracks and the yellow headlight. Those are the only guidelines to tell where the train is heading.

What his boss said might actually be true. Putting other cities aside, this is the unorthodox Yokohama. Anything can happen. Even if there is only one passenger, he has no intention to talk to them. If he does so, he might end up having to catch his cut off head with his chest. _

At that moment, from the eternal darkness of the night that looks no different from the bottom of the ocean, he felt something moving.

His well-trained eyes managed to capture it from the distance. Is that an animal? No. Is it just the trees rustling? No.

That’s a person.

A person is standing on the track.

He pulled the break even before his brain went ”Oh no”.

The compressed air was released, and the train’s speed reducer made a violent metallic noise. But it was too late. The train bumped straight into that human figure.

However, that figure took the train’s hit. A tremendous force was applied on the train. The first car jumped forward. It was like they were being pulled, the rear cars also jumped off, derailed, rolling over into the woods. Like a rampaging huge iron snake, the train hollowed out a big area around it, knocked down a bunch of trees, before finally stopping.

The person who witnessed the whole event, Verlaine, smiled with satisfaction. He took the train head-on but suffered no scratches. He started walking. Towards the car with Mori Ougai. Jumping over the cars half-buried underground, getting through the cars whose electric system were starting to catch fire, he reached his target.

Mori Ougai was lying face-down. The train was fully flipped sideway, the walls become the floors and the ceilings became the walls. He was facing away from Verlaine, not moving an inch. From beneath his body, a pool of blood is slowly spreading.

He did investigate the target’s skill in advanced. It’s not the kind of secret that a formal spy like him cannot find out. Mori Ougai does not possess a skill that can withstand such an impact.

“Too easy.”

Verlaine muttered and approached his target. He is not as stupid to walk away without confirming if his target is really dead or not. He is going to check and if by some rare chances the target is still alive, he will finish them off for real.

Verlaine flipped Mori Ougai’s body over. Then his eyes opened wide.

That was not Mori Ougai.

That was a man he had never seen. He was wearing a wig and clothes to disguise as Mori Ougai. But Verlaine’s assassination preparation was thorough. He had set up a hidden surveillance device in the last station. And the images taken from there were definitely Mori Ougai’s.

When he grabbed the man trying to confirm his identity, suddenly a hand was put on his chest.

“Too easy.”

A powerful repulsive force coming from a skill blew Verlaine away. He flew through the glass windows and landed on the humus soil outside. He rolled further while scattering the soil, and hit his back against a tree before finally stopping.

”... Not bad.”

Verlaine push his hand on the tree to stand up.

He brushed off the dirt from his clothes and started thinking. The face he saw at that moment moment, the repulsive force coming from his palm. That was probably one of Port Mafia’s constituent members, the one who with the repulsion skill, Hirotsu Ryurou.

A double!

They knew about the hidden device and let Mori Ougai’s image captured on purpose, then quickly switched the double in. In other words, Verlaine’s assassination plan was seen through. Ever since he came to this country, he only knew one person who has the ability to outsmart him with such finesse.

“Hello, Verlaine-san.” A small was sitting on the edge of a car, on top of the overturned train.

“Dazai-kun”, Verlaine said as he picked up the hat that had fallen to his feet. “I have heard the saying that age doesn’t matter when it comes to talent, but you are really frightening.”

“You are just bad.” Dazai said with a dry voice as though he was lecturing Verlaine. “This time you acted on your personal feelings too much. When you are like that, I can read all your moves. Why are you so obsessed with Chuuya?”

“Is it that strange for someone to be concerned about his brother?”, Verlaine said as he dusted the mud off his clothes.

“It is, a lot.” Dazai affirmed. “First of all, what made you believe so firmly that Chuuya was your brother?”

“What?” Verlaine narrowed his eyes.

“You saw that too, right? Chuuya’s original experimental body. Turned into bones and died.” Dazai spoke while swinging his legs that were dangling out of the train top. “That looks almost the same as Chuuya in terms of appearance. In terms of abilities, too. And a lot of other things in common. What if that thing was actually a skill-containing artificial life form, and the Chuuya who is living outside, whose only redeeming trait is being energetic, was the original one? Can someone like you who is not an expert, someone who has only browsed through limited materials from the past, see through that?”

“That is impossible.” Verlaine shook his head. “I’m not as stupid as to mistake the target in my infiltration mission. What I stole away from the lab nine years ago was undoubtedly the same as me, an artificial life-form.”

“If I look it up I will understand right away.” Dazai said casually. “Fortunately this time, the guys from the labs has demonstrated the method to rewrite the code formula inside Chuuya. If I capture some of those researchers using Mafia’s power, they will be more than happy to tell me how to read those codes. And then I will know which one Chuuya is actually. We have all the time in the world.”

“You seem pretty confident that Chuuya is human, don’t you?”

“I am”, Dazai laughed with a sigh. “There is no way a man-made string of code could create such a personality that I detest that much.”

Verlaine signed then started walking towards Dazai. His footsteps were heavy, as if he had to clean up a lot of tedious work.

“I can gently whole-heartedly explain to you the reason that was a misunderstanding... but now I have another job for you.“ he said, walking up the gentle slope that he fell from. “That is to spit out where Mori himself, not his double, is. It’s a painstaking job. Literally”

“So you have no intention to back off?”

“Of course not.”

Dazai didn’t look at anything, he gazed aimlessly into the air, “Is that so?”. Then he spoke with a disappointed face, “Then it is your loss.” A sniper bullet went straight for Verlaine’s head. Verlaine bent his upper body, and felt down the slope of humus. He rolled three times then looked up, looking at Dazai with stern eyes.

“Sniper?”

Before he could finish his sentence, yet another bullet struck Verlaine’s forehead. He almost fell to his side, pushing his hands against the ground to support.

“Your ability only works on things that you can touch.” Dazai said, swinging his legs as he looked down on his opponent. “That’s why the bullets that hit you will hit you. They just stop immediately. However, if we aim a larger sniper bullet, which has several times the velocity of a normal bullet, then it will still give you a blow the moment you use your gravity to stop it. Also...”

Dazai casually raised his hand.

From the top of the hill, through the gaps of the trees, from inside the humus, on top of big trees, more than fifty sniper bullets were fired at Verlaine at the same time. All the bullets pierced him, Verlaine growled.

Verlaine tried to hide under the shades of the trees while protecting himself by gravity. But even in the places he ran to, he got attacked from behind. Even if he tried to lower his posture to hide, the attack would come from above the trees. He had nowhere to run.

“To be able to set up this many snipers... in such a short time...”

A bullet pierced through Verlaine’s clothes and slid through his skin. It’s not a wound that could make him bleed, but there are so many of them. Ten shots in one second, then twenty, and more kept coming. It’s like the air that surrounds his whole body has become his enemies and attacked him.

Verlaine had no choice but to protect his head with his two arms and rolled himself up.

“You picked the wrong opponent, Verlaine-san.” Dazai chuckled. “I am an expert when it comes to dealing with gravity. Because no matter if I wake or sleep, the only thing I think about is how to annoy Chuuya.”

“Don’t underestimate me!”

While enduring the rain of bullets that were striking him, Verlaine grabbed a tree close by and pulled it out of the ground.

“You think you can kill me with this kind of rock throwing play? Verlaine swung the tree, trying to throw it. He planned to use the tree as a spear to crush the snipers who were hiding faraway in the dark.

However, that hand of his stopped halfway.

It was because the tree had been cut into pieces.

“Hoho, if I look closely, you look terribly like my subordinate.”

There was a flowing female voice as graceful as the sound of harp.

The burning bright red hair, eyes of the same color. Her crimson red

ombré looked like the color of ripen maple leaves. The most eye-catching thing was what floated beside her, a masked demon in a kimono. The demon was tall with long hair. She carried a sword of almost the same height as a child, as if it had no weights at all. The golden kimono melt into the air from her knees downwards, showing that it was not a real body.

“However, it was Mr. Brother who selfishly tried to poach our boy from us. I guess I can let that go after cutting off one of your limbs or two. So you’d better get lost quickly.”

Ozaki Kouyou. The Port Mafia’s young sword-woman. A powerful skill user who took Chuuya as her subordinate, accompanied by the golden demon, an embodiment of her skill, a beautiful beast.

Kouyou rolled a bright peony-colored umbrella on her shoulder. And then she twisted its handle and pulled it out. A silver blade appeared. A hidden sword.

“Mafia’s skill user?” Verlaine smiled like a beast. “But what can a mere ability user with two swords can do against gravity?”

Verlaine lowered his posture, ready to jump at Kouyou.

“Who said that I was alone?”

Verlaine’s body sank in.

Startled, Verlaine looked at his feet. The ground undulated like a snake, swallowing his two legs and even crawling up.

Verlaine was caught by surprise. He got rid of the gravity of his own body and jumped up. He landed on a trunk of a tree nearby. But even the trunk that definitely looked tough started to liquify the moment his shoes touched. It reached for Verlaine, trying to eat him up.

“This is...” Verlaine leaped again. However, the spot he planned to land on already turned into a mud with a will of its own, opening its mouth to wait for him.

“Hahaha. Keep running, young man. Youngsters like you exist to entertain this old man. Please die quickly and offer your head to me.”

Coming from the darkness of the woods was a big, strong man who looked just like a big tree. A military uniform that has faded in places. His bristle looked like a sewing needle. He wore a judo belt around his waist, and wooden clogs on his feet The arms folding in front of his chest were as thick as a tree that has lived for hundred years.

Port Mafia’s elite, a veteran who survived the Great War. His nickname in the organization is “Colonel.”

He swung his arms like an ancient tree and squeezed his fist tightly in front of his eyes. At the same time, the ground started to muffle. The liquified soil, trees, even the overturned train, all rushed to attack Verlaine in the air. An skill user who can manipulate objects and turn them into liquids?

Verlaine kicked the first wave of liquified soil that came towards him and retreated backward. But the soil was also coming from that direction. Even if he tried to change his orbit to run, liquified soil was still coming from beneath his feet and above his head. If they touched him they would still be blown away by the gravity, but the liquid will start to cover up from the top again, giving no time for Verlaine to prepare a counter attack.

On top of that, as if to stitch up the gaps, there were sniper shots coming from all directions.

“Tch...”

Verlaine densified a small amount of dust in the air, and stepped on that to leap his body up. He wanted to take some distance. Abilities that manipulate things like Colonel’s, in most of the cases won’t work for things that are out of their sights. That’s why he planned to hide deep in the wood then throw a huge rock enforced by gravity to finish them off.

An odd thing entered Verlaine’s field of vision at that moment.

A watch.

A watch was floating in the air.

From the outside, it looked just like a normal pocket watch. A dial with numbers, a long hand and a short hand, a crown, and the internal mechanism peeking out from the edge of the dial.

The strange thing about it was that it had a size of a man’s upper body. Also, it kept turning around as if it was staring at Verlaine.

Verlaine, who possesses a wide range of knowledge on skill users, sensed the danger from that watch almost immediately.

He tore off one button from the sleeve of his suit and amplified its gravity until it weighted dozens of kilograms. Then he threw it towards the watch.

That button comet holding enough power to knock down a building, however, couldn't interfere with the watch. It smoothly slipped through the watch, knocked off trees and disappeared into darkness.

“You can’t destroy that thing.”

A gloomy voice came from the ground.

Verlaine diverted his gaze and without his notice, a boy was already sitting on the ground. He was hugging his knees with his two arms, looking miserable. He looked up at Verlaine.

“It’s no use. That thing looks at everyone. Including me, and you. We have no choices but to die. One day it will find us. One day it will catch up with us. It’s　“time”. It’s the enemy of us all.”

He looked and sounded miserably. His clothes were so long it became awkward. The hems were all frayed. The boy who was so skinny you could see his bones through his clothes glared at Verlaine and waved his finger as if he was telling him “Come here, come here.”

The two hands of the watch clicked and pointed to the number 12 at the same time. Immediately afterwards, the watch in the air was sucked into Verlaine.

That was not a metaphor, it was literally sucked into him, into his chest.

Being wary of the disappeared watch, Verlaine stiffened his body. But nothing happened. There is nothing within his sig...

The liquified soil twisted around his legs.

Startled, Verlaine shook the liquid off by gravity. Then he looked around. He had got pretty far away for sure. It was so strange that the liquified soil could chase him this close. Right after that was a shock. A sniper bullet hit his head. Verlaine span halfway in the air. He landed on the ground, scraping the humus to stop.

It was weird. The speed of the sniper attack went up. The speed of the bullet by the moment it reached him was so fast that even if he used gravity to bounce it back, he was also blown away by a corresponding force.

“Did they replace their guns or bullets with more powerful ones? No, this is...”

The ground liquified again. Verlaine jumped out to dodge, before being eaten by the soil. But the speed of the liquid tentacles that extended and followed him also increased. Verlaine took a quick look around. From the treetops that were hit by the sniper attack just now, leaves were falling down. They were not fluttering, they were dropping as if they were stabbing the ground. This means, the attack speed didn’t get faster...

“Was my time... slowed down?”

“Everyone will die before me.” the gloomy boy stared at Verlaine with dubious eyes filled with hatred. “Brothers, parents, everyone will be killed by time. But I will get away with it. With this special power of mine”

A skill user who meddles with time. For the first time, Verlaine got a cold sweat on his forehead.

Time manipulation is not just a powerful skill, it is a extraordinary skill out of this world. As far as Verlaine knew, there were only a few cases reported in the world. The fist on the list of those time manipulation skill users who are separated from the world’s reasons, was a former skilled mechanic, H.G. Wells. After creating the skilled weapons called the “Shell”, she disappeared and became the world’s worst terrorist.

The time manipulation type of skills tinker the basic principles of this world, and rewrite them at will. Because if you look from the universe’s perspective, time and space are equivalent. The time manipulation skill users hold the same power that can alter the world, just like Verlaine’s gravity. Verlaine whose movements have become dulled because of the time delay　was flooded with Mafia’s attacks. All the bullets, the swords and liquified soil.

Even if he tried to retreat, because his time has been delayed, he could only move sluggishly as if he was under water.

Verlaine’s expressions became stiff.

Dazai gracefully looked at the wooded area echoing with gun shots and roaring sounds. He looked down at the battlefield that had turned into a hell, with such a carefree expression that cooled down in the night breeze._

“This is the rule of this world.” Dazai spoke like he was singing. “It applied in all times and ages, all creatures, the absolute truth. In this world, a group is stronger than an individual. A skill user is stronger than a group. And then...”

Feeling the pleasant cold breeze coming from the blasts of the battle on his cheeks, Dazai smiled.

“... a group of skill users are stronger than one skill user.”

Verlaine pushed his body’s gravity to the max. With a powerful driving force that surpassed the effect of the time manipulation skill, he quickly escaped from the battlefield. Verlaine’s bones cracked at the sudden speed acceleration that exceeded his limit.

Even when the danger struck in front of him, Verlaine’s judgement did not falter. It was not yet a hopeless situation. He would retreat as much as he could, taking as much distance he could from the waves of skill attacks. Then he would fix his posture, manipulate the gravity of the bullets that managed to reach him, repel them and knock down the skill users, one by one. That would be his win then.

Only three skill users. Not too much of a difference in strength.

Suddenly, blood came out from his skin.

Verlaine looked at his cuffs. The skin under his clothes was peeled off, exposing the flesh inside. But only a little blood came out. He felt almost no pains.

He landed down on the ground as a reflex. Upon touching the ground, the skin inside his shoes also came off. He could tell by the slippery feel from it. But again, there was no pain.

That was a new skill attack. But the true nature of it immediately became clear.

His breath was white.

His skin is frozen, there was frost on his eyelashes.

“Let us be held. By the frozen love. Let us be held. By the frozen flower that breaks in its full bloom.” the new skill user appeared, singing with a thin and screechy voice.

Long, white hair, white fur around her shoulders, white breath. And a crimson red rose on her chest. Every time the woman takes one breath, the trees around her froze, cracked up and snapped due to the water inside it freezing and expanding.

Verlaine understood it right away.

A skill user who can cool off the temperate. The reason why his skin was peeled off earlier was because the skin was exposed to the low temperature and got stuck to the inside of his clothes and shoes. His body really became that cold in just an instant. He was frozen from flesh to born, but not much time has even passed.

A super dangerous skill user. Freezing attack does not involve physical clashes. That’s why he can’t dodge them using gravity. It is his natural enemy

Another sniper bullet hit Verlaine’s shoulder. He groaned in pain.

The bullet was cold. It froze by the time it touched his skin, forming a frost pillar. The low temperature invaded into him through the wound, eating up his flesh.

The enemies attacks were too synchronized. Time delay, freezing, sniping. Apparently, it was a tactic that had been put together to block all of Verlaine’s strengths and exploit his weaknesses. There is still something strange about this. He has been retreating at a considerable speed since a while ago, yet the gunshots never stopped. His escape route was totally seen through. Normally if he ran at this speed in the woods in the middle of the night, he would immediately disappear from the telescopic sight. Losing the targets, sniping attack would definitely become impossible. So why?

“Hihihihi, what a sweet face. Hey, just between us, but if you cry and slobber and apologize here, maybe I will let you go this time?”

The voice was close. Really close.

Verlaine turned to that direction. No one was there... No.

In the middle of no where, a hole the size of a coin was opened. It was like the space was burnt and hollowed out, and on the other side of the hole was another different space. From that side, a black eye was staring at this side through the hole.

“Yes, it’s me. You are being watched. From now on, you can be assured even if you lock your toilet door hihihihi”

The hole was so small to see the entire thing. But that eye alone is enough. The eye was filled with malice. It had been watching Verlaine, chasing him and reporting about his positions all the time.

Verlaine fired a rotary kick by reflex at the hole.

“Oops.”

Right before being hit, the hole closed up and disappeared.

“I’m here.”

The voice came from behind. When he turned around, the same hole had been opened in a different place, looking straight at Verlaine.

That was the type of skill that connects space and monitor the targets. The skill user was probably sitting in another safe place, and monitoring the whole battle using their space connection skill. He couldn’t attack the actual skill user. If he tried to touch it, it would close immediately so he wouldn’t be able to destroy it using gravity.

Just how many skill users they have thrown in this battle?

“Hihihi, I have a present for you. From Port Mafia with love.”

From the coin-sized hole, flower petals flew out. Countless petals surrounded Verlaine then started to shine white. Yet another new skill.

The moment Verlaine tried to take a quick avoidance action, all the flower petals exploded at once.

From the train where he sat, Dazai could see the light from that explosion very clearly. The white light split open the woods at night, the afterglow burnt into the night sky.

Dazai looked at that scene, he was grinning.

“How is it going, Dazai-dono?”

From inside the train, a middle-aged man appear. He was wearing the boss’ outfit. He was the one who played the boss’ double, Hirotsu.

“As you can see, it is going well. So well that it is boring.”

In the direction he was pointing, the explosion sound was echoing, trees were falling, sniper flashes and low frequency noises were ringing non-stop.

Hirotsu took off the wig, put on the monocle he always has on, and narrowed his eyes.

“As one would expect.”

“Of course, I had to earn a lot of time to prepare all this. “ said Dazai, who was crossing his legs elegantly like a royal. “Chuuya and I had a terrible hard time fighting Randou-san. So this time I came prepared. Just to kill Mr. Assasin King from Europe, I had to gather a total of 422 people from the combat troops and 28 skill users. That is the full strength that Mafia can put in now.” At the scene where they were looking, the cold air and gun flashes kept shining. Verlaine tried to escape by threading his way in between the trees but a yellow-white ray burnt off the whole night sky, blocking that escape route. That was yet another skill user.

The plan was extremely simple. Setting up a trap and waiting. Chuuya and Adam drafted the same tactic before to defeat the Assasin King. The plan that Dazai carried out was basically the same. Identify the next target, set up traps around that target, and ambush Verlaine from behind when he appears.

The only difference between this and Chuuya’s plan is the scale of those traps. What have been set up as traps this time, was the entire Mafia’s overwhelming combat unit. The result was a one-sided destruction.

“We can keep this battle going for the whole night.” Dazai said as if he was whispering to Verlaine from far away. “Verlaine-san, you are a flawless assassin. With that vivid skill of yours, you have never once been traced down and surrounded like that, haven’t you? That’s why you have no experiences when being cornered by such a skill users organization. Even Randou-san was afraid of that dangerous flawlessness of yours.”

Dazai took out the leather notebook.

Rimbaud’s memoir. The journal Rimbaud had kept about the birth as well as full accounts of skill user Verlaine.

“I mourn for you, Verlaine-san.” Dazai put his hand on the notebook and said as if he was praying. “I mourn not for your death, but for your birth. No one mourns for you for being born. The only one who does is you yourself. That is the reason you fights... I think you are amazing. You despise the fact that you were born, you despise your own power, you despise the world. And by doing that, you came to accept your meaningless life. How wonderful that is. I don’t have that kind of courage. That’s why I wanted to talk with you more. But this is already goodbye.”

Dazai stood up, turning his back on the battlefield in front of him. He walked away.

“Dazai-dono?”

“Report to me when it is done.”

Dazai’s voice powerlessly fell to his feet. He walked away.

The next moment. A black way swelled over the battlefield.

...

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #storm bringer #spoilers #bsd spoilers #dazai osamu #paul verlain #port mafia

367 notes · View notes

leejeongz · 4 years ago

Text

fluffy a-z SUNGHOON (enhypen)

requested: yes, by anon

🔅the comeback!!???!!!?! amazing. i just had to write this today i just HAD TO. this is really long but nevertheless i hope you enjoy🔅

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

he loves holding your hand even at the most random times. if you seem anxious or upset, his hand slowly creeps closer to yours, just to remind you that he’s there. he’s not a fan of pda, but holding your hand is just fine :D. (taken from my enha as boyfriends post)

he messes up your hair (but only when he knows it’s okay to do so, he knows his place lol) when you do something silly or cute. he also does it when he’s first introducing you to people too. he’ll be all like “this is y/n, my gf/bf/partner” and then ruffle your hair, just to once again show them that you’re his.

similarly, he loves when you play with his hair. he’ll purposely rest in head in your lap so that your hands naturally fall to his hair. sometimes, he accidentally drifts off to sleep like that and then wakes up a few minutes later all smiley hehe.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

you don’t have the chance to meet up a lot, most of your contact is via text since he doesn’t have the time to call you all day, every day. he’s super supportive of you, he’s your wingman, your hype man and your parent all in one. he looks out for you as much as possible and (even if you’re not younger than him) he treats you like his younger sibling.

there’s always a lot of laughter when you two are together that stems from the assortment of inside jokes that you share. you can talk for hours despite neither of you being the talkative type (mainly about other people lmao.)

as a pair, you’re often misunderstood. people never associate you with each other but you just know that you don’t always need to be with each other to still be the closest of friends. when you are together, you’re an intimidating duo that people often avoid through fear, but you’re actually really nice 🥺😔

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

he uses cuddles as a way to distract you and/or annoy you. can and will be the big spoon every time you cuddle. he loves cuddling with you, holding you or just touching you, he’s just shy okay. he loves having you in his arms and holding you, especially when he knows you’ve chosen to cuddle with him over doing something important. cuddling with him just makes him want to cuddle all day :((. so if you start cuddling at 10am, except to still be in his arms at 7pm. more so than cuddling, he likes draping his legs over you “to irritate you” (he just wants to be close to you hehe). it makes him feel like he’s protecting you without it being too hot and stuffy and oppressive.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

there’s no time frame for him when it comes to settling down. he wants to settle down but there’s no deadline for him. he’s not actively looking for the love of his life at any point, he’s never going to force himself to be in love just for the sake of creating family. he thinks about settling down a lot, he wants a pet with the person he loves for sure, he’s excited for that day to come, but it doesn’t have to happen soon.

cleaning, he’s fabulous at. the house or apartment is minimalistic anyway, so things that are out of place are easy for him to spot and move. he almost enjoys doing chores with you even, just because he’s spending time with you. when it comes to cooking,,, like sure he’s confident which is so sweet but that doesn’t always mean a good meal. but please don’t tell him that else he’ll get really sad and disappointed in himself.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

if he was to break up with you, it would probably be a “right person wrong time” kinda thing. he wouldn’t get into a relationship if he didn’t see a future with that person, he’s very picky to find the perfect person for him. you’re definitely the right person, but he’s just too busy right now being an idol. he feels guilty for not spending time with you and so he wants to let you live you life, without being tied down so early on. he’d hope that you’d wait for him, but he’d understand it if you didn’t.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

commitment is a big part of the relationship for him. he would want commitment from day one, even if he's not officially your boyfriend yet.

he doesn’t care when you get married, but he definitely wants to get married someday. he likes the idea of dedicating one whole day to celebrating your love for each other, and sharing that with friends and family too. it would quite literally be the best day of his life. he’d propose to you pretty quickly into the relationship, but at a time that felt right. you both knew it was something that you wanted, that you dreamed your relationship would last forever, so why not propose?! he doesn’t mind eating years for the wedding though, it’s a big deal and everything has to be perfect.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

emotionally, he acts quite tough. he doesn’t want to be seen as weak, but at the same time he wants to show his emotions to let you know that’s he’s mature, and that emotions aren’t a sign of weakness. he often keeps really troubling things to himself until he can tell you and you only. you’re the only person who knows him truly, you know everything about him because he’s only willing to share this stuff with you. when it comes to things in your relationship, he also isn’t afraid to speak his mind. he’s not trying to be gentle or tough with his emotions when it comes to you, everything seems like a natural reaction, he’ll cry when he wants to and he’ll be stubborn when he wants to.

physically, of course, he’s very gentle. every touch feels like feathers, every kiss, every hug, every smile, it’s all just very soft and gentle. you notice that he talks to you differently too. his tone with others appears harsher and more blunt than with you. with you, it’s like he’s talking to a baby (in a non- condescending way ofc he’s very mature and you’re not allowed to forget that)

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

when he’s congratulating you on something, when he’s proud of you for something, he hugs you. it’s better for him to communicate using hugs rather than telling you because he’s a little shy saying it, even though he means it.

he likes when you rest your head by his neck, while his arms are holding you close. he kisses where your ear is through your hair or your head while you’re hugging and (when he manages to finally say it) whispers a little “i love you”. it’s a tight hug, but it doesn’t last long. when you pull away, he reaches out to hold your hand, he doesn’t want to separate just yet.

if you initiate the hug, he laughs and grunts and lot just to tease you, but don’t be fooled he’s really happy that you are hugging him!!!

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

oh you pair beat around the bush a whole lot. it’s pretty much unspoken for the first year or so. although you never said it to each other, you both knew.

it wasn’t until sunghoon had left you for a little bit while he went on tour (not left as in broke up, just went out of the country lmao idk how to write that in a coherent sentence big sorry) that you realised that you should probably say it. he returned home and it was on that day that you told him you loved him while nestled against his chest in a satisfying hug after such a long time apart. he said it back straight away, looking down at you and waiting expectedly for your lips to meet with his.

he was always waiting for you to say it first, there were moments when he thought he should just say it, but he wanted to wait, he wanted to hear you say it.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

he gets jealous quite quickly and he always makes you aware of his jealousy no matter how petty the situation may be. he wouldn’t try to hide it, or compromise with you, he wants you all to himself so if there’s even a chance that another boy could possibly be flirting with you, he’ll be mad.

that being said, he’d definitely voice his opinions in a mature and well thought through manner. he would think of how to say things to make you understand where he’s coming from without trying to guilt trip you into unfriending that person, he doesn't want to be THAT guy. he’ll just explain his side and wait to hear your response, and often times it turns into a sarcastic, inside joke which reassures him a lot. he’s just like “fine, go to the cafe with him, but he wouldn’t know which smoothie you like best, would he?!”

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

him initiating kisses? few and far between. but when he does, you know he means it. he loves all types of kisses, he just wants to cover you in kisses sometimes, but he’s gotta keep up his image of course. pecks on the lips and longer, more passionate kisses are his favourites though, he just can’t get enough of your lips. (taken from my enha as boyfriends post)

as i mentioned in the hugging part, he likes to kiss your head or place a kiss where he thinks your ear is while hugging. it sends a rush though the both of you, it just really makes you both think about how lucky you are to have each other.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

a little awkward at first. he’s not sure how to talk to them, and every time he speaks the kids are just like ”??” because he says things that are a little too mature for them.

it will take him some time to be comfortable and confident around the kids, but he wants to be liked by them and he wants them to be happy so he will not give up until that happens.

although, it does have to be said, he’d much rather have a pet than a kid 😳

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

usually, sunghoon wakes up before you. he gets up before you wake up too, and sits and stares at the wall with a blank mind, just to wake himself up a bit. once you get up, he’s gonna ask if you wanna go back to bed again and cuddle and/or watch some tv together when he has a day off. if you agree, he’d bring some toast with him for you both to eat. but if not, you’d just grab some cereal together and eat while sat around your dining table in silence because he does not want to talk first thing in the morning (valid,,, extremely valid)

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

sunghoon is a big fan of evening dates as opposed to going somewhere during the day. everywhere is quieter and this is usually his free time so you have him all to yourself, you can do whatever you want together. as much as he enjoys going to fancy restaurants, bars and what not (which usually take you into the late hours of the night), he’d still rather spend some time at home with you.

on those nights that he can spend at home with you, he likes to just rest with you. chilling on the sofa just watching some episodes of your favourite show, ordering a takeaway. you share your thoughts about the show and that’s all you really talk about while it’s on, but afterwards you talk about your day and head to bed, where you cuddle until you both fall asleep (which is pretty quickly since you stayed up late to watch more tv)

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

like anyone, he overshares when you first start dating due to nerves. you learn a lot about him through this and he’s actually pretty grateful that you do the same thing. you pretty much know everything about him before actually getting into a relationship. throughout the relationship, he’d never try to hide his feelings about certain things and would be pretty hurt if you used things that he’d told you against him.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

with you, he doesn’t get that angry. you’d have to do something really vile for him to show actual aggression and disappointment. with other people, it’s not so simple. he finds a lot of things that other people do irritating but he wouldn’t show his anger there and then. he’s more likely to go home and get angry there. he’d appreciate someone to talk to about it, a shoulder to cry on perhaps. definitely an angry crier (cries when he’s angry) and likes to slam doors to make a point.

he’s not afraid of confrontation when something that someone did is actually wrong. he will stand up for what he believes in and it’s worth putting a friendship on the line given their opposing opinions.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

this bitch acts SO dumb when you ask him stuff but he knows… he knows everything. everything you’ve ever said is stored in his brain, probably written in his notes app as a back up. he’s ready to spring this knowledge on you at any point. he knows exactly what you like and what you dislike, important dates, about your childhood, he even remembers how certain things he did made you feel, so he could do them more or avoid them in the future. but of course, if you ask him, he knows nothing.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

you weren’t even together officially at this point, but when he turned up at your place on prom night. he’ll never forget how stunned he was when he saw you looking all glamorous that evening. you had some photos taken as a pair, egged on by your friends of course because you’d never normally do that, and he looks at them a lot. he can’t help but think how great you look as a couple (and how you two are going to look on wedding photos 🥺). he had a rose prepared for you, a white one because he knew it would go with your outfit, whatever colour it was and also because of its symbolism. he really wanted to confess when he handed it to you, but he over thought it a lot and the moment ended up passing too quickly. that’s his favourite memory. something that he’ll never forget.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

i know i said he got jealous a lot, but he’d distance himself when it actually came to it. he’d be jealous in his own space until you two were alone rather than being protective while the act that made him feel that way was ongoing. as i mentioned above, he does indeed want you all to himself, but he’d hate to cause unnecessary drama and have you lose friends over a silly misunderstanding.

if you were clearly very uncomfortable around someone, he’d be there with an arm wrapped around you. you’d both like to think that his presence alone is intimidating enough, but sometimes he has to resort to harsh one liners to get them to back off.

i don’t think he’d ever get into a physical fight. it’s not that you’re not worth it, but he just feels it would make the situation worse.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

he really wants to put a lot of effort into your dates, but he finds it difficult because one, he has no time and two, he doesn’t want to disappoint you/organise something you end up hating. most dates are spontaneous and on a whim, but also like… planned in both of your minds. like you know you want to go and you know he wants to go, but it’s not confirmed that it will actually happen until the time of the date if that makes sense. when it comes to it, he gets really shy asking you out on dates, so you’ve kind of just started to read each other’s minds lmao.

he never forgets your birthday or your anniversary. he makes a big deal out of your anniversary because it’s a celebration of you both, he wants to make you feel special and will do everything he can to do so. you pair make your own traditions when it comes to days like that, and he looks forward to them a lot. your birthday is pretty much left down to you (other than his gift for you of course). he doesn’t want to do a poor job of planning anything for your special day so he just leaves it and hopes that you do something instead, if you wanted a party you should have organised it. he would help you plan it thought, anything you want he’d do for you.

his gifts are always things that you like. things that you can treasure and things that you can display and show off are his go to. jewellery is a common gift that you receive from him and every single piece that he’s picked out is so delicate and beautiful.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

when you pair are out with mutual friends, he likes to tease you. sometimes he takes it too far without realising it, the atmosphere becomes tense and he becomes even more awkward and wants to leave the situation just to apologise to you but realises it will probably make everything 10 times more awkward.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

he’s a handsome teenager surrounded by other pretty people of course he’s gonna have some concerns about how he looks. actually i don’t think concerns would be the right word. he’s very confident in his appearance, why wouldn’t he be, but he also thinks that everyone else should be too, everyone is attractive in their own way. in reality, he’s very humble about how handsome he is despite constantly flexing his visuals lmao.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

you do a lot for him, not just as in help him out with cooking or whatever, but his mental state. you’ve allowed him to mature a lot and he’s become more emotionally intelligent with you.

he’d hate to think of how his life would be if he wasn’t with you, he wouldn’t be the same person at all.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

one of the first dates you went on was to build a bear, it was his idea surprisingly (he wanted to see which animal/character you picked out, okay?!) you stuffed each other’s teddies and returned them to each other in time to name them. you named yours sunghoon first, he followed by naming his y/n. you both sleep with them on the bed and hug them tightly when you’re not together :( (but your never tell each other that’s what you do lol)

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

people who are all up in his face. just back off, yeah? chill out for a second. he gets that you’re excited, and he wouldn’t want to bring you down, but you don’t need to get up in his grill. personal space is a big one for him. if you don’t respect that, then he’s not gonna have any time for you.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

the prettiest sleeper on the planet. his lips are slightly separated and his eyelashes often flutter as if he’s about to wake up, but it’s actually just a sign of him having a really pleasant dream.

#enhypen #sunghoon #enhypen fluff #sunghoon fluff #enhypen imagines #sunghoon imagines #park sunghoon #park sunghoon fluff #park sunghoon imagines

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