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bestiesenpai · 3 years

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Youtuber Sukuna pt3

Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to get through this thing called life! I never thought youtuber sukuna would be so popular, so thank you everyone for giving me encouragement to continue this lil series. This will be the final part, but who’s to say we can’t have an OVA episode?? I smell a beach episode...or maybe a trip to an onsen? Who knows!

Part one --- part two

This had to be the stupidest thing he’d ever done. It certainly felt like it. Scrolling on Pinterest was the last thing he wanted to do, in fact it was something he openly mocked in the past, but now per your advice, he was looking at thousands of photos of home decor.

Sukuna was hesitant to admit to you that he had no furniture in his home. After seeing how well decorated and lived in your home was, it only made his shame increase at being a grown man with foldable furniture. But you took it in stride and offered to help, even making him share a Pinterest board with you so the two of you could get inspiration for a shopping trip.

That’s how he found himself at IKEA on a bright and early Saturday morning. You’d begged him to let you come shopping with him, and Sukuna was a man unable to refuse any request you made of him.

“Ah, this is going to be so exciting!” You shouted, nearly running to the carts at the front of the store. You were clearly more excited than he was, your energy seemed to know no bounds as you bounced on your heels and waited for him to trudge to the front door.

“What’s so exciting about furniture?” He grumbled, subconsciously taking the cart from your hands. Pushing into the store, Sukuna felt like he had been transported to another world. With staged living quarters that looked more real than his own home, he was at a loss for words.

“Sukuna, c’mere!” You were already ten paces ahead, standing at the entrance to one said fake home. Coming upon it, Sukuna nearly gagged at the color palette. There were bright orange tufted couches with a blue area rug and more pillows than he had owned his whole life. With white accents and gunmetal colored lamps, it looked far too much for him.

“It’s ugly.” He said, not caring about the other people around you that seemed to enjoy it.

“Really?” Taking another look around, you shrugged your shoulders and took a step back. “You’re right, it doesn’t really fit your whole vibe.”

That was definitely correct. If Sukuna had to give a name to his personal style it would be ‘who the fuck cares as long as it works’. He wasn’t one to dwell on his looks for too long, just content grabbing clothes that were easily accessible and trendy, ones that he knew would help him fit in. And that habit had bled into his furniture choice as well.

“Okay, you seemed to pin a lot of pictures that look like this-” Leaning over, he watched you scroll past picture after picture of what almost looked like the same thing, a living room with dark colored couches, a white rug and dark colored walls, almost always with a metal or dark wooden coffee table.

“Yeah, it fits me.” Wandering through the store, Sukuna glanced at an all white room with a window frame encasing a faux view of a city lit up at night. “None of this shit.” He made a vague gesture to the room, and the one following it that looked similar.

“You don’t want any bright colors at all?”

“My hair’s already pink, what more do you want?” That made you snort and giggle, and in turn made Sukuna smile.

“Okay but you can’t just have all black furniture, it’ll make your house feel like a dungeon.” Your hand came to rest on the handle of the shopping cart, dangerously close to laying on top of his. “Promise we’ll get at least a little color today? Maybe a yellow, or a pink to match your hair.”

“S-sure.” Sukuna couldn’t look at anything except for your hand. Your pinky finger was just barely touching his, almost enough that Sukuna could slide his hand under yours and interlace your fingers together.

“Ooh, what about this for your bedroom?” And just like that, you were gone. Dashing off to a display on the wall for bed sheets. “You said you only have a plain white one, right?”

“Yeah.”

“How about this? This design is really trendy right now.” You were pointing to one that was a deep navy, white grid lines crossing over to make big squares.

“I like it.”

“Awesome! Now, do you have a queen or a king bed?”

After picking out the bed sheets, Sukuna slowly opened up more to the idea of shopping. He was able to recognize pieces he’d seen on Pinterest, picking them out as things he readily liked and would enjoy looking at in his house. He was even persuaded to get a few area rugs for different places in his house, and before he knew it you had piled the basket high with things.

“Ah, today was so much fun!” You sang, bouncing in your seat on the way home from IKEA.

“Now I just need to build all this shit.” Sukuna was amazed at how much you’d convinced him to buy. He had new furniture for his bedroom, a new couch was going to be delivered, a dining table and chairs and even a new desk and chair for his office setup in the corner of his living room.

“Lemme help!” You looked far too eager to help him build, and although Sukuna wanted to tell you no - he really didn’t want you to see how he was currently living - he wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to have you in his house with him, working together on something.

“Alright. Let’s stop somewhere and get food though, I’m hungry.”

One quick fast food meal that Sukuna loathed later, you were carrying things up to his apartment. He refused to let you carry the heavy things even if he could really use the help with some of the oblong boxes. But he didn’t want to risk you getting hurt, so you carried the small things.

When everything was inside the house, Sukuna watched your reaction to his place. You hadn’t made a sound when you first arrived, you were probably too busy trying to bring everything in from his car.

“Sukuna…” Scanning his apartment, your eyes landed on his abysmal furniture.

“Yeah?” He screwed his eyes shut, dreading what you had to say.

“This is totally what I expected from you.” You laughed, unpacking some of the fake plants you made him buy. “It totally fits you.” Letting out the breath he’d been holding in, Sukuna grabbed one of the boxes containing his new desk.

“Let’s get started.”

If Sukuna thought cooking with you was hard, building furniture with you was the final boss level. He had you read the instructions while he laid all the pieces out, and when you let out a whine at how many steps there were, Sukuna could have died happily right then and there.

It was easy to build the furniture he bought, but it wasn’t easy to work with you. There was no problem with your actual work, but the fact that Sukuna had to be so close to you at times, nearly hugging you when he had to hold up a piece for you to put a few screws in, it was too much to handle.

He quickly banished you to work on another project. It was your fault he kept getting distracted and forgetting what step he was on, so the only solution was to work on separate things. Plus, watching you flit around his house, hearing you change the bed sheets and lay down a new mat in the bathroom made him feel like you were newlyweds decorating your first home together.

“It looks so good in here!” It was well past dark when you finished everything. It truly did look like a brand new space, and not just in the living room. The touches you’d added, with bright pillows, fake plants and some actual art on the walls, made Sukuna happy to be home. His place finally felt like a home and not just somewhere to crash at the end of the day.

“You did a great job picking shit out, I woulda never been able to do all this.” Putting his arm around your shoulder, he gave you a squeeze.

“Are you gonna do a house tour when the couch and table come?” A house tour? Why would he do that? Knitting his brows together, Sukuna sent you a look. “C’mon, you know what a house tour is! All the popular Youtubers do them.” You giggled, wiggling your eyebrows. “And aren’t you a popular Youtuber?”

“I-” Well, you had him beat there. His subscriber count was well into the millions at this point. “Okay, I’ll do one when the rest of the stuff comes.”

“Yes!” Bouncing up and down in joy, you clapped your hands together. “I’ll help you film, I know how bad you are at angles.”

“Hey! I’ve been getting better!”

In a week, you were back at his place, more excited than him to film this video. You’d helped prepare a little script should he need it, and you were fluffing all the pillows so they looked nice on camera.

“Let’s have an entryway shot, those always look so cool!”

“Whatever you say.” Sukuna was merely a puppet on your strings, maneuvering however you saw fit. He made his hands as steady as possible getting b-roll shots of everything in advance.

“If you forget what to say, remember I made a script!” With that final warning, you were standing at the entrance to his apartment and waving your hand. “Okay, start!”

“Hi people on the internet. This is my house tour that (Y/N) is making me do.”

“Shut up!” You laughed behind the camera, trying not to shake it.

“This is my kitchen and dining room, (Y/N) picked out the table and chairs for me.” Doing a sweep over the kitchen, he transitioned to the living room. “And this is the lounge room, where (Y/N) picked out the couch and rug, and my desk stuff over there.”

“Yeah, Sukuna had no rugs in his apartment before!”

“Mhmm.” Somehow Sukuna managed to not stumble over his words, easily recalling parts of the script you had written for him. Highlighting the fake plants and cheap art on the walls, the two of you stood in the bathroom together.

“Look, it’s us!” You waved to the camera in the mirror, nudging your shoulder with Sukuna. Suddenly, the image of getting ready in the morning with you or winding down after a long day together in the bath flashed before Sukunas eyes. What would it be like to come into the bathroom while you were in the shower and join you? Give you a shoulder massage under the hot running water, or to brush his teeth and tell you to hurry up and not waste water.

“And this is the bedroom.” Quickly exiting the bathroom, Sukuna hid his blush with his hand as he entered the room.

“Hold this.” Shoving the camera in his hands, you leapt onto the bed. “This is where I sleep!” Your laugh was easy and you rolled around his bed a few times, simply having fun wrinkling the sheets.

“Uh- w-wha-” Sukuna nearly dropped the camera in shock. Seeing you in his bed, even if it was just on top of the sheets fully clothed, made his heart stop. Gripping the camera hard in his suddenly sweaty hands, Sukuna nearly tossed it to the side and joined you.

“Just kidding!” You were already climbing out of bed as soon as that thought entered his head. “But isn’t this room pretty? I picked out most of the stuff in here too.” Just like that you were back to normal, talking about some random print on the wall that he’d ordered per your suggestion.

Needless to say, Sukuna had a hard time falling asleep that night, the image of you in his bed burned into his mind like it was the only thought he’d ever have again. His imagination was going wild, and he tossed and turned all night - even after relieving some tension.

With his new desk setup, Sukuna felt motivated to edit the video as fast as he could. What you said about improving his living quarters was true; now that his place looked nice, he felt nice in turn. He even left in the part where you jumped on his bed, adding a funny break in the video like you’d shown him.

‘IT’S CONFIRMED. IT’S CONFIRMED. THEY’RE DATING’

‘sirpohdjb my ship has sailed!!’

‘I come here to see why sukunax(Y/N) is trending and it’s this bullshit?? Y’all need to get a life’

Sukuna often felt like a fool when he was with you, and sometime after as well. Even from the first comment he left on your Instagram, he knew people shipped you together and wanted you to date. He felt embarrassed more times than not, but it seemed he never learned his lesson. That scene of you on his bed had gone viral and he regretted leaving it in.

But could you blame him? You made his head spin, most of the time leaving him incapable of doing anything else beside standing in his place looking stupid. It was hard to edit the videos you did together because reliving the footage made him dizzy all over again.

(Y/N): SUKUNA. ANSWER ME ITS URGENT

It was the middle of the day in the middle of the week and Sukuna had nothing better to do than laze around and do nothing. Except now, he was texting you back with his heart suddenly pounding.

Sukuna: what?! Is something wrong where are you??

So much adrenaline was coursing through his body that he had started to shake.

(Y/N): I just got a great idea, I need to know if you’ll do a video with me!

What the fuck.

“What the fuck?” Sukuna said out loud, staring at his phone in disbelief. This is what was so urgent? Nearly sending him into an early grave for a possible video?

Sukuna: what the fuck I thought it was serious

Sukuna: I thought you were in trouble

He wasn’t upset per say, but Sukuna was definitely annoyed.

(Y/N): sorry :( i didn’t mean to scare you

Sukuna: you did more than scare me

(Y/N): I’m sorry! I won’t do it again!

Now Sukuna felt bad and it wasn’t even his fault. In all the time you’d known each other, you never had a negative interaction. He waited five minutes for you to text something, but you didn’t and it was making him anxious all over again.

Sukuna: well tell me what the idea is

(Y/N): no, it’s okay it was a stupid idea anyway

It took you another five minutes to respond, and your answer made Sukuna groan.

Sukuna: you got me all worked up and you’re just gonna leave me hanging?

He had to rectify the situation somehow.

(Y/N): I just thought...of maybe doing your makeup for a video?

Sukuna: what

(Y/N): I told you it was stupid! Just forget it

Sukuna: shut up it’s not stupid

As typing bubbles appeared and then disappeared, Sukuna could just imagine the way your cheeks puffed out indignantly.

(Y/N): here’s a link to someone else who did it with her boyfriend, they had so much fun together!

(Y/N): let me know if you wanna do it, I think it could be a lot of fun…

Sukuna only needed to look at the thumbnail to know he would say yes. The two people on the screen were very close, with the girl nearly touching her boyfriend's face with her own. They had big smiles on their faces as well, and that enticed him more.

Sukuna: I’ll do it

(Y/N): really?? That’s awesome! Come over to my place on Friday, we’ll order pizza and make a day of it!

And that’s how Sukuna found himself in your filming room, stomach full of pizza with a disgustingly cute green frog headband keeping his hair back. He’d seen this room a hundred times in the backgrounds of your videos, but now he was actually here. There were even more plushies than appeared on camera and you had a humidifier going in the corner.

“Okay now stay still, I’m going to wipe a toner on your face.” He had no idea what that meant, watching you with curious eyes pick up a bottle from the table in front of you and dab the liquid onto a cotton pad. “Usually I use my hands to apply toner, but we wanna wipe the dust off.”

With a gentle hand, you held Sukuna by the chin and swiped the cotton across his face, it’s soft chemical scent wafting into his nose. It felt nice, having you apply toner and moisturizer on his face. The most he ever applied was sunscreen, but maybe he could convince you to do his skincare for him every day.

“So today, I chose this makeup look by Beyoncés makeup artist! It’s a really popular style called ‘soft glam’.” Sukuna nodded along with you like he understood what you meant, taking a glance at the picture on your phone before you showed it to the camera. “I think Sukuna would really fit this kind of look, he is a natural beauty afterall.”

“Shut up.” He snorted, a light flush heating his cheeks.

“It’s true! There’s so many comments under your house tour video saying how good you look with the new furniture.” You spoke about the new makeup you bought for the video as you applied the products. Sukuna tried to keep up with what you were doing and saying, but he couldn’t really contribute anything to the conversation about makeup.

“Tuck your lips in so you don’t get foundation in your mouth.”

“What?” He jerked away right as you lifted the small dish you had with what he assumed was foundation.

“I don’t think you want to eat makeup, do you?” You chuckled and pat him on the cheek. “Tuck your lips in.” Doing as you asked, Sukuna flinched when you gripped the back of his head. “Try not to move too much, I want it to be even.”

As you applied the foundation and subsequently the concealer and powder, Sukuna barely moved. In fact, he barely breathed. You had leaned in far closer than you’ve ever been to him, your breath lightly fanning over his face as you worked to smooth everything out.

The hand on the back of his head dipped down to rest at the base of his neck, your body coming to lean more onto him as time went by. You were speaking, Sukuna could hear it, but he wasn’t responding. The excuse was he didn’t want to mess you up, but in truth he couldn’t find any words to say.

“Look at you!” Holding up a mirror for him, you laughed at his shocked face. “How do you like it?”

“I look so flat.” Turning his head side to side, Sukuna lifted a hand to touch his face.

“Don’t touch it, you’ll mess it up!” Snatching his hand away, you held it tightly in your grasp. Sukuna was thankful for the layer of makeup he had on now, no one could see his blush.

“What’s next? This eyeshadow shit?” He picked up a product on a whim, opening it up and staring at it. “Why’s there only two colors? Why are both of them brown?”

“That’s contour, we’ll get to that! This is the eyeshadow!”

Putting eyeshadow on Sukuna was harder than both of you thought. Not used to the feeling of the brush, he twitched every time it was swiped across his eyelid. Through plenty of trial and error, and many times of you telling him to just take a deep breath, you got through it.

“I’m gonna have to cut out so much of you flinching.” You teased, checking the camera to make sure everything was still working.

“I don’t get how you can do this shit, it’s fucking awful.” All Sukuna wanted to do was rub his eyes and face until his skin went raw.

“We aren’t even at the worst part yet: eyeliner.” Taking a seat, you lifted up a simple black pen.

“Oh god.” Hanging his head, Sukuna said a quick prayer for his eyes before straightening up and taking a deep breath.

“Sukuna, I gotta ask you something.”

“What is it?” Cracking an eye open, you were looking at him with your lip caught between your teeth.

“Can I...I need to sit in your lap to do eyeliner.” Sukuna audibly and quite loudly gasped in shock, his mouth hanging open in disbelief. “When I help my friends with eyeliner I sit in their laps! It’s just easier that way!”

“I-I uhm- okay?” He eventually forced the word out, copying your movements and turning his chair to face yours. “What uh- what should I…?”

“Sit still.” Pulling your chair flush with his, you pushed Sukuna’s legs closed and scooted up his thighs until your butt was firmly seated on him. Wrapping an arm around his shoulder, you uncapped the eyeliner. “There, now I can get started.”

Sukuna was in so much shock, he didn’t move. Even when the eyeliner tickled the inner corner of his eye, even when you moved his hands to rest near your lower back so you wouldn’t slide off, even when you did the bottom lashline, he was frozen.

If this is what heaven looked like for him, he would gladly take it and never leave. Your face was so close, he could feel it even when his eyes were closed. The soft skin of your hand held his powdered cheek gently, keeping yourself steady as you drew the lines on his eyes.

“All done.” You whispered. Sukuna opened his eyes and made a noise in the back of his throat; your face was close enough that if he tried to focus too hard he’d go cross eyed. You weren’t paying attention to his reaction at all, too focused on making sure his eyes were even.

The rest of the time went by in a blur. You’d slid off his lap after that, diving right into putting more powders on his cheeks. Swiping thick gloss on his lips is what drew him out of his stupor and into another one as you once again held his chin, swiping the corner of his mouth with your thumb when you were done.

“Sukuna, you look so good!” You said with a slight whine, showing all angles of his face off to the camera before showing him. “You have to promise when you get rich and famous and become a global celebrity that you won’t forget about me.”

“Shut up, you know I won’t.” He said with a smirk, swiping the mirror from you. “(Y/N)...I look fucking hot.” Bursting into laughter, you wiped imaginary sweat off your brow.

“Well I guess I don’t have to ask how you like it!” Patting him on the back, you got up to stretch and check the camera one last time.

“Would you fuck me, ‘cause I’d fuck me.” Sukuna said to himself, striking a few poses in the mirror and for the camera. “Hey, you watching this video you better fucking share this with all your friends. Everyone needs to see how hot I am.”

“We should have ordered you some clothes, turned you into an Instagram baddie!” You teased from behind the camera.

“Please, I don’t need fancy clothes when I’m this sexy.” Running a hand through his hair, Sukuna pointed the mirror at you. “Be honest (Y/N), you wanna date me right now. I look so hot, I bet I’m gonna have thousands of DM’s.” Sukuna’s confidence was the highest it's ever been around you. For some reason, the makeup gave him more assurance.

“Well let me know when to schedule a date with you then, I’d love to grab dinner sometime.”

“I’ll have my assistant pencil you in.” He joked, looking back at himself in the mirror. Sitting back down, you ended the video and made Sukuna wave to the camera. Not turning off the lights you used to film, you made him snap several pictures with you.

“This video was so much fun, Sukuna, thank you!” Rocking back and forth in your seat, you had a demure look while you fiddled with your phone. “And I wasn’t joking about dinner. I really like you, Sukuna.” That made Sukuna stop in his tracks, nearly throwing the mirror down in shock as he turned to look at you.

“Huh?!”

“I-I mean- I mean I like hanging out with you!” Obviously embarrassed, you leaped from your seat and began turning the filming lights off, pointedly avoiding his gaze. Both yours and Sukunas faces were burning with embarrassment, awkwardly not looking at each other.

“(Y/N)...” Sukuna half stood from his chair, forcing himself to move despite how awkward he felt. “I-”

“Let’s wash off that makeup now, I bet it’s uncomfortable.” Keeping your eyes trained on the floor, you went to the door. “I’ll show you what to use in the bathroom.”

The tension in the air was thick after that, and it remained that way for a few days after. Sukuna knew what he heard, he saw how your face looked as you said you liked him, he could hear the sincerity in your voice. But it obviously wasn’t something you were ready to say, as evident as you not texting him as much as you usually did.

When the video went up, Sukuna immediately felt butterflies in his stomach all over again watching it. Reminded of how close you were to him made him ache to have you near him, and seeing you sitting on his lap had another feeling rising in his stomach, warming him up in an embarrassing way.

He patrolled the comments as usual, but there were no mean ones that he could yell at. All of them were screaming about how the video just confirms that the two of you are dating, and surprisingly they weren’t calling out him for looking like he was in love with you.

The comments teased you this time, keen longtime viewers of yours pointing out specific timestamps where you looked embarrassed or looked like you wanted to kiss him. Sukuna checked out every single one, liking the comment for showing him that what you said earlier wasn’t a mistake.

Ever since that day, it seemed like you were promoting on Instagram and Twitter a lot more. Sukuna already had notifications turned on for all your socials and there was a definite uptick in your content posted to those platforms.

There were more sponsored posts and polls posted asking your followers for style advice, and which beauty items they preferred more. Sukuna was happy to see you got an increase in brand deals from the video you did together, a video that had now easily reached five million views and counting. He congratulated you whenever he saw a sponsored post, sending you cute little emojis along with the praise.

All week you had been hinting that there was a big announcement coming, a major event in your life that you were so excited to share with everyone. Sukuna, along with all your other followers, ate up all the crumbs you left throughout the week. Many suspected you were going to go work for a designer label, while others assumed you’d announce a sudden marriage.

(Y/N): Sukuna, check Instagram!

You texted him in the evening on Friday, but he didn’t need the update. He was already on your page when the post was dropped, waiting impatiently for the picture to load.

“A TV show, huh?” As he read the promo photo, he smiled. Appearing on a TV show was a big opportunity for you, one that was sure to lead to many more. Your role wasn’t stated in the photo, but your promo picture was a professional one no doubt taken at a studio.

“Wait, what?” When Sukuna got to the caption, he took a pause. Why were you going on a dating show? He read the words over and over, hoping for a different outcome each time. But there was no denying you’d be going on a dating show.

Checking out the show's page, Sukuna let out a groan. All the male contestants were hot and not even he could deny it. Some had muscles like he did, others were more unconventionally attractive.

Sukuna: you’re going on a dating show?

It took him a while to text you back. In fact, it took nearly thirty minutes for him to text you. Sukuna had gone through all five stages of grief several times, coming back to being in denial over and over again.

Dragging his feet to his kitchen, he grabbed a bottle of wine that one of his rich clients at the gym gifted him. Popping the cork, he collapsed onto his couch and took a long drink from the bottle.

(Y/N): yeah, I’m super nervous!

Sukuna: I bet

Oh, did he fucking bet. He’d gone through all the male contestants' Instagram pages, trying to talk them down in an attempt to lessen the blow that he could potentially lose you to one of them. Why did he have to wait so long to confess to you? Now the chance was gone, possibly forever.

(Y/N): what do you think about the show? I was kind of scared to take the deal

You didn’t want to know how he really felt.

Sukuna: it’s a great opportunity, great for exposure and it’s a lot of money

(Y/N): that’s true!! I’ll have to treat you to dinner with my first TV check!

Just great, a chance for you to gush about whoever you met on the dating show. Taking another long drink from the bottle, Sukuna crumpled even more into his couch. Back were the stages of grief, each emotion washing over him until he mustered up the courage to do something about it.

“Hello?” You answered the phone, confused as to why Sukuna called you instead of replying to your messages.

“(Y/N).” Sukuna said your name firmly, honing in on a spot in the ceiling. Swallowing around a growing lump in his throat, Sukuna forced the next words out. “I like you. I-I really, really like you.”

“What?” He could hear you gasp over the phone.

“I know, what kind of asshole confesses to you when you’re about to go on a TV dating show?” He chuckled, taking a deep breath. “But it’s true. I wanna be your boyfriend, (Y/N). I know it’s too late to back out of the show but-”

“Sukuna-”

“No, let me say this. I know it’s too late to back out, and-”

“Sukuna!”

“And I don’t want to hold you back from finding someone better suited-”

“Sukuna!”

“Better suited for you than me. I’m just a dumb, muscled up chump that-”

“Sukuna I’m a stylist, not a contestant!” You were finally able to get a word in, face flushed from the sudden onslaught of emotions going through you. Sukuna was silent on the other end, mouth hanging open as he processed the words.

“Y-you’re a...a stylist? So you won’t be dating any of them?” He whispered after a few moments, the shock starting to wear off and being replaced with humiliation.

“Yeah, I’ll be on the styling team.” Your voice also dropped to a whisper, the weight of his words beginning to settle down on the both of you.

“Oh god.” Putting the bottle down, Sukuna slapped himself in the forehead. He had never felt like a bigger idiot than in this moment. “Sorry, I’m so sorry, just- just forget it.”

“No.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t want to forget it. I...I want you to be my boyfriend too, Sukuna.” There was a pregnant pause, and you could practically hear Sukuna’s brain working overdrive.

“Let’s go out on a date!” He shouted, pushing himself off the couch and to a shaky stand. “I’m free whenever, let’s go on a date!” The alcohol was definitely affecting him more than he first thought, and Sukuna fell back down onto the couch.

“Really? Okay, how about tomorrow? That’s like the only day with good weather for the rest of the week.”

“I’ll pick you up at noon.”

Sleeping restlessly through the night, Sukuna woke up way earlier than his alarm. Taking an obscene amount of time getting ready, he was still early to your house. Taking a lap around the block, he went to a flower shop and bought you a handful of flowers.

“Hi.” Your voice was soft, almost meek as you entered his car.

“Hey. I got you these.” Handing you the flowers, Sukuna bit his lip nervously.

“That’s so sweet, thank you!” Gently hugging them to your chest, your nerves began to melt away and you smiled, making Sukuna smile as well.

Sukuna once again had you pick the cafe you were going to. This one was in a bustling downtown street, not in the middle of the countryside, and as you two walked down the street there were couples passing you left and right.

Snagging an outdoor seat, Sukuna went inside to order for you. This cafe, unlike the last, actually served coffee and Sukuna was quick to get a large cup of it. Buying a few croissants cutely decorated with various creams, he went back outside.

“Say, you’re really cute, why don’t we sit and chat for a bit?” An unknown man was standing near your table, and Sukuna caught the tail end of his sentence.

“N-no, I’m good.” Your eyes were glued to your lap, obviously uncomfortable with the attention you were receiving.

“Aw, really? A pretty face like yours shouldn’t be all alone!” The man had a sleazy grin on his face, visibly eyeing you up in a salacious manner. “My name is-”

“Baby, who’s this guy?” Sukuna had had enough. Stepping right up to the table, he nearly slammed the tray in his hands down on the table. Your head shot up, relief flashing across your face.

“Who are you?” The man scoffed, curling his lip in disgust.

“I’m their boyfriend. Who the fuck are you?” Puffing up his chest a little bit, Sukuna stared the man down.

“Boyfriend? They didn’t say anything about having a boyfriend.” The man attempted to look at you again, but Sukuna beat him to it and caught your eye instead.

“Geez baby, I know we had that fight before we came but I’m hurt! If I get rid of this creep, will you call me your boyfriend again?” Laying a heavy hand on the man's shoulder, Sukuna gave it a squeeze.

“Y-you’re always gonna be my boyfriend, dummy.”

“That just warms my heart!” Sighing loudly, Sukuna gave the man a not so subtle push away from the table. “Well, you heard ‘em. Get lost, you worthless sack of shit.” Grumbling, the man walked away and Sukuna took his rightful seat next to you.

“Thank you.” Immediately, you latched onto him, squeezing his arm in a tight hug as you pressed your face into his shoulder.

“It’s okay, I’m here.” Wrapping you up more tightly in a hug, Sukuna pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I would have beat him up if you wanted. Men are fucking disgusting.”

“Sukuna, you are a man.” You laughed lightly.

“Exactly my point.” Rubbing a hand on your back, Sukuna picked up one of the croissants. “I hope you like these because I can already tell it’ll be too sweet for me.” You laughed again and sat up, keeping your face close to his.

“I have something sweet for you too, I hope you like it.”

“What is it?” Quirking a brow, Sukuna jumped when you planted your lips on his. The kiss didn’t last long and the taste of your lip balm and feel of your lips was permanently engraved into Sukunas brain.

“There.” Your cheeks were absolutely on fire, shame rolling off of you in waves at having your first kiss in a crowded cafe on a busy day in the city. It wasn’t even a particularly romantic setting, but something spurred you to do it.

“W-what the hell! You can’t just do that!” Sukuna gasped, his own cheeks burning a deep, scalding red. “You gotta warn a guy first!” His dramatics were drawing attention from the other patrons, making the situation even worse.

“Sshh, you’re being too loud!”

“Like I care! Kiss me again, I’m ready this time!” Grabbing you by the shoulders, Sukuna tried to kiss you.

“W-wait, there’s people watching!”

“I don’t give a fuck who’s watching!” Grabbing your chin, Sukuna kissed you much firmer than when you kissed him. It lasted longer as well, bordering on too long for what is accepted in public. “There.” Pulling away slightly out of breath, Sukuna sat back in his seat and took a sip of his coffee.

“You’re so embarrassing.” You whined, hiding your face in your hands and hitting Sukuna with your head.

“All I’m hearing is how great of a boyfriend I am.”

“No you’re not.” You countered, getting wrapped in a side hug by Sukuna.

“It’s debatable.” Picking up the croissant he dropped, Sukuna took a bite. “Hm, this is sweet but not as sweet as that kiss you gave me.”

“Sukuna!”

#jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen imagines

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latte-fairytaekwoon · 3 years

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Kickstart My Heart Pt.1 (Racer! Yeosang)

Next>>

Pairing: Racer! Kang Yeosang × Waitress/Fuckgirl! Reader (Female)

Genre: Fluff, Angst, 80s AU.

Summary: During an era known for its vibrant colors, eccentric fashion styles and rise of new yet unconventional genres of music, the young generation of that time was infamously known for their need to rebel and live their lives rather scandalously and Y/N is no exception. So when a new and attractive man moves into her town, she has her eyes set on making him her next boy toy.

Word Count: 4K+

Warnings: Dumb attempts at crackhead humor, reader is a cold hearted bitch, guy gets dumped in public, reader's friend is lowkey creepy.

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Throwing on the last article of clothing that had been discarded the night before, the young woman shook out her hair, still damp from the quick shower she just took. Picking up her bag, she looked over at the figure still sleeping soundly, the subtle hint of a smile on his face. With a pitied pout on her lips, she walked over to the edge where his face was. Taking out the lipstick tube from her bag, she applied it all over her lips, painting them in the dark burgundy color that she fancied so much and had practically become her signature hue. Bending over, she pressed her lips against the corners of his mouth, giving him the faintest whisper of a kiss before pulling away. A satisfied smirk was plastered on her pretty features as she stared at the lipstick mark on his face, the only memoir she'd leave him with as she had done with countless others.

Closing the front door behind her, she pulled her denim jacket tighter on her body, shivering slightly from the early dawn's breeze that blew across. It was always like that even though summer had just begun, the early morning hours still feeling obnoxiously cool and then transpiring into slightly uncomfortably warm afternoons that had more than one soul in that quaint town grumbling and fussing about the weather. But oh did the evenings feel absolutely refreshing, and that's when everything would start bustling to life.

Having finally made it out of that small residential area and finding one of the main roads that helped her locate where to go, she started heading south towards the all too familiar diner where she had been working in ever since her school days, first starting part time and eventually transpiring to full time when it came time for her to spread her wings and fly out on her own, a feat she had been most anxious to do to get away from the overly controlling nature of her parents. She knew they cared about her, but she herself cared very little about the morals and principles they had raised her with, a common trait all the young people in that town shared: their rebellious and headstrong nature to not conform and go against everything they had been taught thus far. Live their own lives as freely as they chose to do.

And she definitely lived as she wanted to, even if it ended up with a rather bad reputation and ugly labels that rather than infuriate her, she openly embraced, as others had come to as well.

The light twinkle of the bells above the glass door let the person at the register know someone came in and they immediately plastered on their business smile, which quickly faded when they saw who it was.

"You're late Y/N." The minuscule raven haired waitress informed her, eyes never leaving her coworker's figure that came behind the counter and started punching in her number.

"Only by like 7 minutes." She waved her slip at the nonchalant looking girl before placing it back in its respective slot.

"One day it wouldn't surprise me if you just didn't show up because you got too caught up in.... something else."

Chuckling softly, Y/N walked up behind her coworker, hands coming up to ruffle the cheekbone level bob cut hair framing her unusually small face.

"Awww come on Lynn, you know I'd never leave you hanging here to attend customers by yourself. You're my bestie." Y/N assured her, playfully poking her lips out as she tried to place a kiss on her friend, the poor girl craning her neck away as she tended to dislike physical affection.

"I will squirt ketchup on you." Lynn threatened as she picked up the cherry red bottle as a last resort to get her attacker to back away. A rather noisy struggle ensued between both girls, catching the attention of the owner and cook behind the two doors, prompting her to come out and see what was the cause of such ruckus.

"Well I'll be darned. I don't remember paying you youngsters to simply slack off and behave like the hooligans you are." The middle aged woman spoke up, her thick accent becoming more prominent. Although she had a stern look and hands placed at her hips, the girls knew she was not in reality angry at them.

Looking over at the recently arrived girl, the owner closed her eyes and sighed deeply when she took in the attire she was wearing: low cut white tank, ripped denim shorts that left little to the imagination if she bent down, fishnet tights with a few holes in them, and her beloved denim jacket that was almost always on Y/N's body.

"I swear to god, Y/N , everytime I see you wear them rags you call clothes, I feel like my body is about to collapse. Why must you insist on dressing like a common street worker?"

Y/N wasn't at all offended by her words, having grown used to and becoming fond of her boss's abrupt, direct and honest manner of speaking.

"Gotta start looking the part if I'm going to dedicate my life to the occupation." She giggled at her own joke, resulting in the older woman taking the rag off her apron and smacking her with it.

"This little runt, talking nonsense like that- get your ass back in there and change into your uniform. Can't have you prancing around here in those skimpy clothes and have all these men that come here say disrespectful things about you. Nuh uh, not to my girls." She shook her head.

"Yes Miss Audrey." Complying with the woman's wishes, she pushed open the swing doors leading to the back and quickly made her way to the corner where all the employee's cubicles were located. Grabbing the necessary items, she turned and went inside the bathroom to change into her uniform, consisting of a knee length crimson red dress, which she had actually altered so it would be shorter and display her thighs more, the cap sleeves slightly puffed up and the torso part had a trail of white buttons going all the way up to the modest v-neckline, usually most buttons were left undone so her cleavage would shamelessly peak out. Exchanging her black Doc Martens in favor of her white Nike sneakers, Y/N tied her apron around her waist, making sure it was as tight as possible so it would accentuate her curves and give her body a more flattering appearance. As she made her way out, she quickly piled her hair up before securing it with one of the many elastics she kept around her wrists, leaving out a few tendrils to fall on her temples.

Coming back out to start her daily work, she stood in front of Lynn, who merely spared her an unamused glance.

"How do I look?" Y/N asked.

"Like a total slut." Her friend answered in her usually rude way.

Rolling her eyes, Y/N grabbed a spray bottle and a rag. Making her way over to the table that had just finished being used, she quickly picked up the plates and glass, bringing them back over to where Lynn was, who took them so she could wash them in the sink. Spraying the top of the marble piece, she had began her task of wiping down the table when the ringing of the bell signaled new customers had arrived, and rowdy ones at that too.

"Damn! Is today's special fluffy sponge cake? Cause I would sure love a piece of that ass."

Y/N recognized that annoying voice even from miles away, belonging to none other than one of her old classmates, Jung Wooyoung, whom she considered a friend, if he didn't manage to irk her too much. Turning around, she of course wasn't surprised to see him surrounded by his crew of equally idiotic and adrenaline junkie friends, whom she had to admit were pleasant and fun to hang out with.

"Sit your asses down already, I'll be over in a minute to take your order." She told them before resuming her previous task, earning a scoff from the most dramatic of the group.

"Fine customer service! Don't think you'll be getting a tip from me." His words made her nearly burst into a fit of giggles.

"Wooyoung please, you never ever tip whenever you come. None of you, except Yunho." It kinda saddened her that said male unfortunately wasn't there with them at the moment.

"He doesn't tip you, he tips short stack over there." His friend with cat like eyes pointed towards Lynn, who upon overhearing him held up a rather explicit finger in his direction.

"I'll poison your food San." She threatened with a sing song tone.

"Like I wouldn't know that you already spit on it." San spat back, sticking his tongue out in his immature and infantile fashion.

"Can you guys hurry up and order already? I'm starving and we gotta head to the tracks as early as possible." The fiery red haired male known as Song Mingi blurted out, fingers tapping impatiently against the top of the table.

"If little miss g-string would care to hop her luscious ass over here, maybe we could."

Strutting over to where they sat, Y/N harshly threw the dirty rag on Wooyoung's face, causing a faint grunt to come out of his mouth.

"No matter how many times you mention my ass, I'm still not letting you tap it." She firmly stated, making Wooyoung slightly purse his lips outwards in a disappointed grimace.

"So anygays-" Mingi began.

"Umm I think you mean anyways." San corrected him.

Leaning in towards him, Mingi locked eyes on the shorter male and stared him down with an intimidating glare.

"Did I stutter Choi?"

San immediately shook his head rapidly. With a victory smile, Mingi reclined back in his seat.

"I'm just going to get the breakfast platter with some orange juice."

Y/N couldn't stifle her snort when he said his choice of drink, the other two men looking away in embarrassment.

"You've been drinking orange juice since you were in grade school Mingles, don't you think you outta start taking something more grown up? Like coffee?" San suggested and Mingi did not appreciate it.

"Coming from the one who still brings a plushie to sleep with him, your suggestion holds no value or power." He retorted.

"OK SHIBER IS NOT A PLUSHIE, HE'S FAMILY YOU JACKASS!" San sprinted up from his seat, nearly leaning across to grab Mingi by the color, but he was held back by Wooyoung.

Lynn, who had thus far stayed quiet, promptly came up with a spray bottle and consequently doused the untamed boy on his face.

"Bad kitty, bad kitty." She reprimanded him, unable to resist the opportunity to attack her long time frenemy.

"Lynn!" Y/N looked at her with surprise.

"You're welcome." Lynn replied rather monotone before going back to her place behind the counter like she didn't just spray San with disinfecting water.

"There's too many germs going around anyways..." She muttered under her breath.

Without any further interruptions, aside from the rumbling coming out of the boys' stomachs, they finished ordering what they wanted and Y/N sent it over so they could be prepared. Not wanting to be near their loud asses, Y/N went back over to where Lynn was, peeking over to see what she was currently reading in the magazine she held.

"What you reading?" She casually inquired.

"Horoscope section." Y/N wasn't surprised, her friend tended to be into more mystical, eccentric and rather.....extreme with her taste in fashion and music. If Y/N was the one who turned heads for her scandalous attire, Lynn was the one people turned away from in fear when they saw how she dressed. It was a sight that truly made both of them laugh at people's foolishness, well at least made Y/N laugh. Her friend rarely had any other expression plastered on that wasn't utter disdain for society and life.

Unexpectedly, another customer came in. Both girls looked at each other in confusion when neither of them recognized him. Their town was rather small with few people living there, so they deduced that he must be a traveler who probably got lost on his route. He himself looked around nervously, eyes barely lifting up. Y/N couldn't help herself as she took in his perfect face. Big, round eyes with crystal clear orbs, small face with a V-line jaw, perfectly sculpted nose with no sign of defects, skin smooth and blemish free, he looked like a prince out of a fairytale. He was incredibly pretty, yet stood there so awkwardly that it was almost comical.

"Hey Yeosang! You made it! Sit down! I ordered for you in advanced!" Wooyoung surprised both girls when it seemed he knew the stranger and even waved him over to where they sat. The other two boys also seem familiarized with him and welcomed him to sit with them, chatting up a storm already with him.

"Who's that?" Lynn was the one to finally ask out loud.

"Beats me.....but he sure is adorable."

Noticing the way her lips curled upwards, Lynn could already see the wheels inside Y/N's head turning.

"And I bet you're going to go over there and find out- aaand there you go." She ended up answering her own deduction as she watched Y/N happily walked over with a more bright expression on her face, that soon soured when her boss came out of the kitchen and beat her over to the table, laying down several plates of food.

"I knew as soon as I saw the orders that it had to be the lot of you." She scoffed softly as she looked at the boys' grinning faces.

"You know us Miss Audrey, we wouldn't ever think of eating anywhere else but here. You're the best cook in all of town." Wooyoung praised her with a sparkling charm that could have fooled anyone else but not the robust woman in front of him.

"Boy stop trying to tickle my ears, I've known you since you were in your soiled diapers being carried around by your mama, running around and creating chaos anywhere you went. Flattery may work on them poor girls you play with but me? I can see right through ruffians like you."

Turning her head to finally notice the new addition to the group, she looked him up and down.

"Boy who might you be?" She questioned him, earning the ears of the girls nearby to listen in for any valuable information.

"I'm..... Yeosang Kang, nice to meet you." He introduced himself, tilting his head slightly down when he said that.

"He just moved into town this week! He's the new guy who is going to work with us down at the car shop and help on the race track!" San enthusiastically shouted, making the older woman cringe.

"I may be old, but I still haven't gone deaf for you to yell in such a way boy. So...." She crossed her arms and looked at Yeosang again.

"You a racer too?"

Now the girls, particularly Y/N, were more interested in what his response would be.

"I- yes. So it seems." The poor boy looked so flustered, obviously being more of a soft spoken individual, contrasting starkly to the other 3 boys.

Miss Audrey let out a seemingly displeased hum at his answer.

"As if we needed anymore hooligans running wild. We already got enough with the 3 Stooges over here."

The girls couldn't help but snicker at their boss's words, always having a blast whenever she put the boys back in their place. They however looked displeased, glaring at them intensely.

"Shouldn't you both be off somewhere cleaning dishes or making sandwiches?"

Snatching one of the knifes, Lynn held it up and was about to jump over, but Y/N came up in front of her.

"Lynn, no. Just calm down ok? You know they're just being idiots." Y/N reminded her.

Grumbling something in a foreign language no one knew for sure if it was real or not, Lynn put the knife back, squinting her eyes at them before turning around to not look at them again. Y/N giggled softly, finding it absolutely cute whenever her friend lost her cool and collected form cause it reminded her of a chihuahua, barking and yelping at anything larger than itself trying to establish dominance.

Noticing that in her display of aggression, Lynn had inadvertently knocked over a few of the brochures that were on display for people to take, Y/N stooped down and proceeded to pick them up in a casual manner. Standing up, she neatly arranged them properly, making sure they all faced the same direction and the sides weren't poking out anywhere. Feeling as though someone had been watching her all along, she looked at the table of boys, half expecting Wooyoung's smug grin to greet her, but she was completely wrong as it was none other than the new guy who seemed unable to keep his eyes off her figure, staring intently at the length of her skirt. When he realized she noticed, his eyes went wide, cheeks burning up with utter embarrassment. Y/N however seemed unbothered by this. Wanting to test something, she pretended to accidentally drop one of the pamphlets. Bending over, she made sure he could get a perfect glimpse of her cleavage, if he payed enough attention, he'd be able to see that she was in fact, not wearing any bra. Coming back up, Y/N looked over to see the results, smirking when the agape mouth of Yeosang confirmed to her that he had indeed noticed everything.

"Oh sweetheart, you're gonna be too easy..." She had already made up in her mind that Yeosang would be her next target, and she had to put her plan in action. Placing the brochures down, she was about to go over and start flirting with him, until a familiar voice called for her.

"Y/N! There you are!"

She internally groaned when she heard him, wondering why on earth did he not get the hint of ditching him like that, especially when he very well knew about the reputation she had. She tried ignoring him, but of course, he had had to be the persistent type, no doubt thinking he was going to have a different ending than the rest before him.

"I thought you'd be here. You could have told me you were going to be gone early. I would have made you breakfast."

Knowing she had to say something, Y/N grabbed her pad and gave him the fakest smile she was capable of donning.

"Hi, what can we get started for you today? Waffles? Eggs and bacon? Coffee to start off with?"

The trio of friends, having no choice but to witness the interaction due to it happening right in front of them, snickered amongst themselves.

"Oh shit. He's in for it." San whispered lowly.

The boy obviously looked extremely confused, his smile lightly falling off, but then returning to its hopeful state.

"Why are you acting like this candy bear? Pretending like you don't know me?" When he tried to reach a hand to pull her close, the girl simply pushed him away with one of her fingers.

"Look, clearly you're too stupid to understand so let me spell it out in a language you can understand." Letting out a tired sigh, she crossed her arms in front of her chest, a sour look displaying on her pretty face.

"We had a nice time together, and last night was... average to put it nicely."

"Oh man. That was a total burn." Mingi couldn't help but snort, some of the orange juice being spit back into his glass.

"But that was all it was and all it's ever going to be. So why don't you do yourself a favor and just go back home to your Star Trek figurines and watch the latest episode of Thunder Cats?"

The not so discreet snickering coming from the table behind them only made the humiliation for the man multiply significantly. Turning red with utter despair and rage, he quickly brushed past Y/N rather brusquely.

"Fucking bitch." She heard him mutter under his breath, a phrase she had grown accustomed to hearing among many others.

"Oh god. Homegirl struck again." Wooyoung laughed, swirling his milkshake in his hand.

"Ayo why you gotta do Thunder Cats like that? It's actually pretty entertaining." San commented.

Looking over at the time, the guys quickly stood up, dropping their share of bills onto the table.

"You guys get paid today too right? Come meet up with us at the track." Wooyoung suggested.

"Why on earth would we want to go see your greasy, oil smelling ass after dealing for nearly an hour with you already?" Lynn questioned him, eyes never peering up from her magazine.

"Because Yunho would be there?"

Still she didn't respond, the only movement made was her finger turning the page.

"Bro we been knew she don't give two shits about him." Mingi reminded them.

"Because we're going to the drive in theater after work, they're playing a horror movie."

Lifting her gaze, Lynn closed the magazine, although still stone faced, her eyes seemed to brighten up.

"My interest has been greatly piqued." Her lips showed the faintest whisper of a smile that gave a rather eerie and chilling feel down the people's spines.

"Maybe we should rethink inviting Satan's offspring." San leaned in towards Mingi, shivering significantly.

"Great! So we'll catch you gals later."

The boys quickly dispersed themselves, save Yeosang who still sat quietly, keeping mostly to himself. His fingers fidgeted with the half drunk cup he was holding, gaze fixed on the table in front of him. Looking up, he was attempting to work up the courage to talk to Y/N, but before he could even get the chance to gather strength, the owner came out from the back, whispering a few orders to her and gesturing for her to go tend to a situation in the kitchen. With a defeated sigh, he got up to go join the rest of the gang outside who were waiting for him. Slumping his hands in the pockets of his pants, he moved out of the booth with a solemn gaze.

"Hey."

His steps came to a screeching halt when he heard Y/N call out to him. Looking over, she smiled sweetly in his direction.

"Hope I see you later." With a flirtatious wink, she bid him goodbye as she disappeared into the back.

Yeosang stood there stunned momentarily, replaying her words over and over again in his mind, pondering endlessly at their meaning.

"Little pussy cat sure got you brain dead, didn't she?"

Startled by the unexpected voice next to him, he jumped when the face of the kind yet stern old lady studied him carefully. With a disapproving shake of her head, she decided it'd be best to warn him before he started getting ideas in his head.

"Listen, you seem like a sweet and sensible young man, so it's best for you to listen to me and stay away from that darn girl. Don't let them sugar coated lips of hers sweet talk themselves into your heart. You'll just end up heart broken like all the lovers she's had."

Picking up some of the plates, she gave him one last look, pointing an accusatory finger at him to get her point across.

"She's dangerous." Finally saying what she needed to say, Miss Audrey headed back with plates in her arms, slapping away Lynn's hands when they attempted to pry them off her, barking instructions at her to watch the counter and leave her be.

"Dangerous....." Yeosang thought to himself, the warning the good intended woman gave him sinking deep in his mind. Although he took her words to heart, something about the way she glanced at him pulled at the strings in his chest, taking his breath away when he remembered the risque position she was in that purposely allowed him to view more than he should have. That memory tinted his cheeks pink, lips unable to suppress a small smile. He knew that he should heed the old woman's advice.

But he had to admit that he loved danger and the thrill it came with.........

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Taglist: @little-precious-baby @yunhofingers @brie02 @galaxteez @multidreams-and-desires @deja-vux @hanatiny @couchpotatoaniki @daniblogs164 @a-soft-hornytiny @yunsangoveryonder @minhyukmyluv @nanamarkie @ateezbabysitters @mingismoon @rainteez02

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canary3d-obsessed · 3 years

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Lost Tomb Reboot Lewks: Part 13

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff)

Warning: Spoilers for both seasons of The Lost Tomb Reboot and also vaguely for Daomu Biji in general

Look 66 belongs to Ah Ning, who has chosen, for this adaptation, to go with short hair, heavy makeup, and all-black clothes, but with a bit of a club vibe, rather than her more usual tactical vibe.

The short hair is a weird choice. The whole schtick with DMBJ adaptations is that you have to tell who's who by their costuming and styling, since the associated actors toss roles back and forth faster than Wu Xie and Xiao Ge on a date with Liu Sang.

Hot guy in a hoodie? Xiao Ge. Slightly dorky but ridiculously charismatic guy who dresses like Joey Ramone? Hei Yanjing. Man who's too old for fluffy bangs and puppy-dog eyes but is working the hell out of them anyway? Wu Xie. Ponytail, gun, and a whole bunch of disposable sidekicks? Ah Ning.

Ah Ning, Lost Tomb 1 version, with her signature ponytail & disregard for human life.

For this look, Ah Ning has gotten rid of her long hair, henchmen, weapons, and the part of her shirt that normally would cover her belly. This is an outfit that says "I am finally ready to fuck Wu Xie."

Unfortunately she decides to accessorize this outfit with a giant deadly snake.

This snake, unlike the equivalent snake in uhhhhhmmm a different DMBJ show that Ah Ning might theoretically die in, does not appear to be poisonous or have an unusual instant-kill-you ability. It just squeezes her a little bit, and the boys don't make any attempt to revive her, even though not-breathing is a super survivable condition, if it's corrected quickly.

This non-poisonous snake accessory is all about killing a woman so that men can feel manpain, and I am kind of offended that this version of Ah Ning went out like that, after being a badass in every other adaptation.

(more after the cut!)

The hypothetical other show where a version of this scene perhaps also happens does correct this, by having her talk about her acceptance of the risk of death, and by having the fucking snake be POISONOUS. I am not naming the show because where’s the fun in that? If you watch TLTR first, like I did, you get to be worried about Ah Ning in every other show she’s in, which is exhausting but also kind of fun. (I don’t mind women dying in fiction, as long as their deaths are an important part of their own stories, rather than just being important for the growth of the men around them.)

Thanks to poor accessory choices, Ah Ning and her snake necklace go the same route as Ye Piaopiao and No-Longer-Mute Chick; fortunately Xiao Ge didn't fall for Tattoo Artist Ah Tou or she'd be in the morgue with the rest of them.

Look 67 is young Wu Xie's jungle adventure outfit, featuring a bright white popover jacket with cream color sleeves from Scotch & Soda’s Club Nomade collection. Scotch & Soda have have thoughtfully printed their name on the string so that those of you who share Wu Xie's clothing tastes will know where to shop. You know who you are.

You would think highly visible bright white would be a bad choice for a jungle adventure, but apparently snakes in these parts are only attracted to goths.

Wu Xie is also wearing wired ear pods, which did not exist whenever this flashback supposedly happened, but if we're cool with sentient crustaceans and clams that can incapacitate a ruthless trained assassin (clams got legs!), we can be cool with ear pods.

The show conveys flashback-Wu-Xie's youth and naiveté by having him smile sweetly, not watch Ah Ning take her clothes off, and not attempt CPR after she gets lightly squeezed by a snake.

Looks 68 and 69 belong to Not Ah Ning, who is played by Liu Yuqi, who also plays Ah Ning. Her makeup is much softer and prettier as this character than as Ah Ning; this character’s job is to be pleasing to men, whereas Ah Ning’s job is to get male underlings killed on the regular, so I guess that makes sense.

This outfit is an amazing body-hugging soft green jumpsuit with raised quilty detailing on the arms and shoulders. Her jumpsuit perfectly matches the couch she's sprawled on, which is her subtle way of telling Jiang Zisuan that she is a nice comfy place to have a lie down.

She accessorizes this look with her usual soft wavy brown hair and a scattering of gold finger rings. I think she also accessorizes this with ass pads, because Ah Ning does not appear to be draggin’ this wagon in her scenes. I checked. For science.

When the first outfit doesn't work, she ditches the subtlety and goes for a Chanel-style suit in black, white, and red, with a with a black leather bustier underneath.

Unfortunately this is a wasted effort, because the Jiang Zisuan she tries this on is actually Wu Xie in disguise.

Wu Xie only likes girls if they are 1. secretly manipulating him while acting like a tiny adorable sidekick, 2. trying to kill him repeatedly while adventuring together, 3. planning to kill him as soon as the roads are clear but willing to bone in the meantime, or 4. are a skin effigy with a sentient crustacean in their head.

Sorry, Not Ah Ning; this was a good effort.

Look 70 features Wu Xie in a white thermal shirt, dark blue jeans, and fake facial hair. This is a good look for sitting with your not-quite girlfriend and wondering how you both managed to have romances with Bai Yu in parallel universes. (OP recently watched Love O2O, which is a trip for fans of DMBJ, Guardian, or feminism)

Fortunately Wu Xie doesn’t know that his second-favorite doctor/Zhan Rishan’s girlfriend also had a romance with Bai Yu or his mind would be entirely blown.

This is a soft, comfortable look, perfect for torturing someone, with help from your first-favorite doctor, by pretending to poison someone with nicotine, all so you can have a few moments of quality time with a cigarette before said doctor takes them away again.

Wu Xie's cigs are stored in a buttery-soft leather case that completely covers the brand name of the cigarettes, so apparently cdramas don’t go in for ciggy product placements.

Wo Xie wears this outfit with a silvery-metal watch with a black leather wrist strap. The watch appears to be round, and it probably tells time. (If you’re new to the Lewks series: I lack watch knowledge and that’s not likely to change.)

Wu Xie finally peels off his fake facial hair so we can see his pretty face again, only to replace the facial hair with an entire fake face. Fortunately, this face, belonging to actor Wu Lipeng, is also pretty.

Look 71 belongs to Wu Xie, initially (for this outfit) played by Wu Lipeng until his inevitable unmasking. So many actors have played Wu Xie, this whole disguise thing is barely worth blinking at. Wu Lipeng does a nice job changing his mannerisms to play Wu Xie, and this whole schtick eventually gives us Zhu Yilong's delightful performance as Wang Meng, so even though we eventually get way too much of not-Zhu-Yilong in the role, I’m good with it.

This outfit features black jeans, black tactical boots & gloves, and Ah Ning’s coin bracelet, although it’s mostly hard to see the bracelet. The outfit’s main feature is a possibly-leather jacket that’s been molded into a hideous and disturbing voronoi pattern.

This jacket is probably very expensive and took a lot of work to craft, but it makes him look like he’s wearing a Glad Force Flex garbage bag. I mean, I guess that's cool.

This outfit is good for several episodes worth of adventures, including getting tied up and being sassy...

...and underwater cave exploration, which is totally a thing that a person with critically damaged lungs can do.

This outfit is good for homoerotic wrestling...

...and also for heteroerotic wrestling.

This is also a good outfit for being gently cradled in the arms of your doctor, while you massage your throat in order to swallow what he's putting in your mouth.

The fingerless gloves are useful for helping Xiao Bai get out of not one, but two different situations in which she stepped on a trap without realizing it, requiring Wu Xie to get down on the ground and have a tense encounter with her foot.

Scenes like this are where costuming really makes a difference. In this shot, we we watch a stunt hand (Zhu Yilong has never had that long of a thumbnail in his life) hold a wire steady, while a stunt foot is pulled out from under it.

This shot includes a lot of visual texture and interest, from the hatch lines on the palm of the glove to the cross-striping of the boot lace. The complexity of this glove and this boot help to hold our attention when they’re in the frame, allowing the tension of the scene to build, instead of dissipating when the viewer runs out of things to look at.

Bonus Look 1

Carrying all that tragic baggage has given Jiang Zisuan spectacular arm muscles.

Bonus Look 2

Zhu Yilong with not-fake facial hair.

Daaaaaamn.

#the lost tomb reboot #reunion the sound of the providence #the lost tomb reboot spoilers #lost tomb lewks #spoilers #my gifs #canary3d-original #my stills #ah ning #wu xie #zhu yilong

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soulmate-game · 3 years

Text

“Are you paw-sitive this is alright?” Selina half-purred half-asked. The slender cat thief was dressed casually— for her, anyway— in a floor length amethyst purple gown that swept just barely above the floor, accentuating her curves and coming down in a deep V neck that was just barely within the constraints of being acceptable for public appearances. Her companion, almost half a foot shorter even in her short heels, was a stark contrast. It was as if all the two women had in common was their hair color, a rich deep black that shimmered blue in the right lighting.

Marinette, with her hair done up in two buns and wearing a sensible pink-and-white cheongsam top with apple blossom embroidery paired with an ankle-length denim skirt that had a knee-high slit in the front, nodded even as she eyed her friend’s choice of outfit with a small frown.

“Of course. Bruce is in the media’s eye all the time, and he knows I don’t have a care for the spotlight. But you do,” Marinette stopped talking for a second, snapping her fingers and reaching into her purse. She pulled out a gorgeous inch-thick collar necklace that was made entirely of thick panels of flawless silver and high-quality diamond. At the very center of the collar necklace, where it would hang right in the center of Selina’s collarbone, was a diamond-and-obsidian cat face. “I knew I was forgetting something! Bourgeois owed me a favor for doing the outfit for her last magazine cover pro bono, so I asked for this as payment. It’s exactly what your outfit is missing.”

Just because Marinette didn’t like revealing clothing didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate someone else wearing one well, after all. And Selina wore her dress perfectly.

Selina quirked an eyebrow, eyeing the necklace with her expert gaze. Gently, she trailed her fingertips over the tops of the diamonds in the thick bands of the collar as a small smile flicked over her lips. She raised her eyes up to Marinette’s, light green eyes sparkling with mischief and knowing.

“You got this as a bribe for me, didn’t you kitten?”

Marinette smiled unashamedly. “I know you’re a proud lesbian, but would you mind playing the role of Bruce’s girlfriend, just for the media? And only while you’re single, of course. If you ever want out, you only have to say the word. Bruce already agreed, but he also doesn’t mind continuing to play the careless bachelor if you aren’t willing.”

Selina scoffed, rolling her eyes and grabbing the necklace. Effortlessly, she swung it around her neck and clasped it in place. “Please, darling. You and I both know it drives you up a wall when Brucie is hounded by gold diggers every time he steps foot out of that mansion of his. I’ll play the camera-girlfriend, but only for a maximum of a year. And you two can only call on me one a week at most, a girl’s gotta have some time to herself.”

Marinette nodded eagerly. “That’s fine! We probably won’t even call on you that much, Bruce is planning to play the ‘we want to keep our relationship pretty low-key’ card for now. Just an appearance once a month or two ought to satisfy those vampiric paparazzi.”

Selina just smiled. She had practically adopted Marinette years previous, during a trip to Paris where she had found out she apparently had a male doppelgänger. Now the two were sisters in all but official (Not-forged) legal documents. And because of that, Bruce had somehow become her brother.

Which Bruce later found out, meant that Selina would relentlessly tease him every time she needed to appear as his “girlfriend.”

Relentlessly.

But Marinette and Bruce had a Plan. She wasn’t quite ready to make a public appearance as his real girlfriend, mostly because of loose ends that still had to be tied back in France. She was making so many trips back and forth between the two countries that they couldn’t see each other in person much to begin with, so they also didn’t want their few in-person meetings tainted by greedy D-rate journalists.

But yes, they had a Plan. One year was the perfect time frame for the last stretch of said plan. Marinette would tie up the last few things she had to do in Paris, start an official branch of her fashion company in Gotham, and they would stage an entire break-up with Selina, a three-month “break” to “recover” and then a suitably dramatic, romantic “meet-cute” between the two of them to start what the media would see as a love-at-first-sight, fairytale relationship.

Nobody needed to know about Marinette and Bruce’s five-year pining session, or their one-year fumble through figuring out how to date one another before actually getting it right, or the most recent three-years of dealing with the fact that they were both highly experienced hero/vigilantes, the leaders of their own hero teams, and highly accomplished business people.

It was a hard relationship utterly riddled with drama, but they had finally reached the stable point where they were ready to commit. Sort of. They just needed Selina to fake-date Bruce in the public eye for a couple months, and then everything would be fine.

—*—*—*—*—*

One year and three months later.

Marinette shifted her purse on her shoulder. This would be her first time in over five years actually setting foot inside the Wayne Manor. She was excited to see Alfred again, and to hash out the last details for her and Bruce’s public “meet-cute.” But Alfred didn’t open the door this time, a short green-eyed boy with an all-too-familiar frown on his face did.

And once again, Marinette knew that Selina was not the mother. Her pseudo-sister was, as she had said so long ago, a very proud lesbian. But Marinette did know of a past fling of Bruce’s who did possess the proper genes to help create a child of this age.

Marinette smiled, pushing her inner rage at the thought of Talia Al Ghul out of her mind. She was still pissed beyond all rational thought when she heard about what Talia had done to Bruce. But this child was not at fault for any of it, only an innocent by-product.

“Hello. My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Would you mind telling Alfred I’m here?”

“Tt. Why should I?” The apparently bratty boy asked, crossing his arms and glaring straight at her. Marinette felt her eye twitch.

“I am a close friend of Bruce— Would I be correct in assuming he’s your biological father?” Immediately upon her question, the boy’s eyes widened ever so slightly in shock before his glare intensified. Marinette chuckled. “He didn’t tell me that he adopted any new children, and he always tells me when he adopts. Which means he didn’t have to adopt you, suggesting you are related to him directly. You can’t be a cousin or nephew, he has no living blood family. And all his pseudo-siblings are alive and fine, so you weren’t left to his care in anybody’s will,” she deduced out loud for him. “Plus, the green eyes and tan skin— I know of exactly one of Bruce’s past… suitors… who happens to fit the timeframe and features necessary.”

The boy raised an eyebrow. “Most assume that I am that harlot Selina Kyle’s spawn,” he snapped, but it lacked the same heat this time around. He was now analyzing her face closely, and Marinette noticed. She was careful to keep her eagerness toned down. She really just wanted to see Bruce and be able to hug and cuddle him for the first time in almost a year, and this child was her only obstacle at the moment. A very stubborn one.

Marinette sighed. “Selina is like a sibling to me, don’t call her a harlot. If Selina was ever pregnant, I would have known. Hell, Selina would have given me her baby to raise because she doesn’t have any interest in being a mother. Now, the polite thing to do when someone introduces themselves is so introduce yourself back. Not interrogate or intimidate them.”

The boy huffed, straightening his emerald turtleneck and rolling his shoulders back. “I am Damian Wayne,” he replied imperiously. “And Father has never mentioned a friend by the name Marinette. Which leads me to believe you are yet another no good hopeful suitor, and Father is still recovering after he and Kyle finally split up for good.”

Marinette froze, and slowly her eyes narrowed. “He never mentioned my name? Ever?”

“Tt. I already said no.”

Finally, the shape of Alfred Pennyworth came into view behind Damian. He had obviously heard the last bit of the conversation, because he just sighed and shared a long suffering look with Marinette. It was that look that made Marinette’s eye twitch a second time.

“Alfred,” she said slowly. “Has he mentioned me at all to any of his kids?”

“He has not,” Alfred replied. “And furthermore, Miss Selina would not stop giving him a hard time whenever he had to call her out for an appearance. It seems all of the children mistook their relationship for actually being of a romantic nature.”

Damian spun to the butler, eyes wide and swimming with a multitude of emotions. “What do you mean, ‘actually’, Alfred?”

“He means,” Marinette began before Alfred had the chance. Her eyes were narrowed, matching storms of dark, furious blue. “That Selina was only pretending to be Bruce’s girlfriend so that the press and gold-diggers would leave him alone. And apparently I need to beat some sense into my stupid, idiotic boyfriend, who I should have known would do something like this,” she looked up at Alfred, jaw clenching. “That man would never be able to pass for a functioning human without either you or me keeping his head screwed on. Where is he?”

“Not at the manor currently, Mademoiselle Marinette.”

“Alfred.”

The butler gave Marinette a rather mischievous little grin. “Master Bruce has forbade me from telling you where he is currently, he wanted you to stay at the manor and sleep the jet lag off until he got back. But I can tell you that he is not currently on Earth or on a mission.”

“Alfred!” Damian hissed, shocked that the man would say something so revealing. Alfred was the perfect secret keeper, why would he tell someone Bruce had never mentioned something so telling?”

“Oh, calm yourself Master Damian,” Alfred soothed. “Marinette has known about Master Bruce’s nighttime activities since before you were born. If anything, I believe he rightfully deserves the wake up call he is about to receive.”

Marinette nodded, eyes still stormy and determined. “Alright, so he’s at the Watchtower. The Zeta tunes are still in the Batcave, right?” When Alfred nodded, Marinette wasted no time. She easily slid around Damian and stormed into the manor, finding her way to the Batcave on pure muscle memory and rage.

“Wait, Alfred! I demand an explanation!” Damian’s loud voice slowly grew quieter as Marinette stormed down into the cave, ignoring how Alfred began to calmly explain the situation to the boy. She just slid right in to the Zeta tube, and commanded the computer to send her to the Watchtower.

“P-001, codename LADYBUG, recognized.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Batman pinched his nose from where he stood at the head of the meeting room in the watchtower. The briefing was supposed to start over an hour ago, but Hal Jordan had been twenty minutes late. No surprise there. But still, SuperMan had insisted that they wait until everyone arrived. And really, normally Batman would too. Except that his long time girlfriend was going to be landing in Gotham any minute now, and he would rather be back at the manor to greet her.

And the asinine argument that had been going on for the past forty minutes was finally going to end, even if Bruce had to hogtie every last one of his insufferable coworkers himself and force them through the rest of the meeting strapped to their chairs.

“Okay, can we PLEASE begin the meeting now, or so help me I will break out my kryptonite restraints,” he threatened darkly. He might have only mentioned Kryptonite, but everyone knew that that threat was actually aimed at all of them. Batman knew every last one of their weaknesses and was not above being petty when they strained his last nerve.

Quickly getting the hint, the entire room rushed to fill their seats and at least fake at paying attention. But of course, nothing goes quite right in the life of Bruce Wayne. Right as he turned on the slideshow he had prepared and began the meeting, the sound of an enraged woman’s voice echoed down the hallway in a deafening roar.

“BRUCE THOMAS WAYNE, YOU ARE IN SOOOO MUCH TROUBLE!”

Batman felt as if someone had just shoved him into a cryogenic freezer, a harsh shiver of dread running down his spine. There was exactly one person who could terrify him with a single word, and it just so happened to be the woman he was hiding a wedding ring from.

For the past eight years, but that’s neither here nor there.

“Oh shit,” Bruce breathed, but found he was unable to move from his spot. Yes, he wanted to see Marinette so badly that it hurt. But he also would like to stay alive.

SuperMan leaned forward, not really concerned since Batman would have reacted much differently had the voice been coming from a real threat. Instead, the man leveled his old friend with a very teasing smirk.

“Why is your heart suddenly racing?”

Bruce could only glare daggers at Clark before the door to the meeting room swung open, a tiny French woman standing there in a long, formal white-and-pink knee-length gown with a cheongsam neckline and one of her leaf-green heels held in each hand threateningly.

“You absolute idiot! When I said I wanted to keep our relationship out of the public eye, I didn’t mean to keep me a secret from EVERYBODY!”

“But darling—“ Bruce cut himself off as he was forced to dodge one deadly-accurate piece of flying footwear. “You don’t understand. The boys cannot keep a secret to save their life.”

“They have secret identities, don’t they?” She slipped her other shoe back on. She had known that her shoe never had a chance of hitting, and with Bruce in full Batman gear, even if it had hit him the high heel would have felt like she had only thrown a pillow. Had it been otherwise, she wouldn’t have even joked about throwing her shoes at him. But as it stood, she knew none of the normal things she had on her would be able to so much as make Bruce say “ow.”

Marinette placed both of her fists on her hips, marching up to Batman and pulling him down the full foot it took for him to be able to look her in the eye. His resulting gulp was clearly audible, and visible, to everyone else in the room. “You absolute, emotionally dense moron,” her voice had dropped from a yell to a mildly fond, but still very annoyed, grumble. “Your kids are mostly adults now, you know. And you never told me about Damian either. Did you honestly think I’d be mad?” Bruce looked away from her, which was honestly all the answer she needed. Marinette sighed, letting him go and softening her voice. “You need to trust your kids more, Bruce. I never wanted you to keep me a secret from your family, or even your close friends. Just the annoying ass paparazzi. And trust me a little bit more, yeah? I know it isn’t exactly your strong suit, but I’ve known you long enough that you should know I’m not gonna run for the hills just because you have a biological kid that wasn’t with me.” Marinette risked giving him a slightly vulnerable, lopsided smile. And Bruce immediately deciphered what it meant. His shoulders slumped.

The cost of using the Ladybug Miraculous for so long was that Marinette had to give up her fertility. She could never have children of her own, and Bruce had felt guilty that he had had a biological child, even though he hadn’t exactly consented to it, without her. But now he could see where he went wrong.

Marinette was just happy to have another piece of him to take care of. She never would have resented him for what had happened with Talia. And, seeing all of those facts written on her face now, he felt more than a little blind.

“... sorry.”

Marinette just huffed out a short, soft laugh before grabbing Bruce by the bicep. She turned to look at the other heroes still in the room, half of them uncomfortable with seeing such an emotional display while the others looked like they were incredibly invested in a good soap opera. She shot them a grin.

“I’m stealing him for the next few days, okay? Don’t worry, I’m sure you can make do with making Diana read the slideshow. I know from experience that it has everything you guys need to know and more. Don’t call us, I’ll field all your contact to Agent A!!” With that, she dragged Bruce by the arm out of the room.

To be fair, he wasn’t exactly resisting. Even if the reunion was far from ideal, just having this little bit of contact was extremely relaxing for the vigilante. When they reached the Zeta Tubes, he stopped Marinette and pulled her in for a kiss.

When they inevitably pulled away for breath, he smiled at her. “As soon as we get back, I’ll call everyone in and explain the situation,” he promised. “And then, we can spend the rest of the night doing whatever you want.”

Marinette smiled back, shoving him into the Zeta Tube. “Then get ready, because I wanna sleep off this damn jet lag and I plan on cuddling you like a koala the whole time. No escape.”

“B-001, Codename BATMAN. Recognized.”

“Can’t wait,” he replied right before he was whisked off. The sound of the love of his life laughing followed him through until he reached the other end of the teleportation.

—*—*—*—*—*

@maribat-writing-and-prompts

#maribat #ml x dc #mlb x dc #brucinette

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tsukkiseasalt · 3 years

Text

Eyes That Won’t Wonder

“What, what!?” You shriek.

Another low laugh erupts from him as he leans against the door, his large frame blocking any potential view of the inside.

“I believe that is a compliment.” He mumbles his lips curling up into a sly smile.

“Y-yeah, it was.” You stammer, words barely making themselves out of you as your stomach begins to do cartwheels.

“As much as I'd love to stay right here and chat, you’d probably find it to be much more comfortable inside.” He says, smile fully present now, and you take a moment to admire the sight-storing it in your mind. He moves enough for you to slip right past him and pause the moment your feet touch the dark hardwood floors.

The aroma is the first thing that invades your senses. It smells of pine and a rich tobacco, with slight hints of something sweet- maybe vanilla, you can’t really tell. The home is just as beautiful on the inside as it appeared from the outside. The dark hardwood floors complimented the ivory walls and dark rust colored trim. The living room was sparsely decorated though, it had only one couch, a chestnut loveseat and a matching recliner. He obviously doesn’t get many visitors.

“Your home is beautiful.” You say breathlessly, eyes roaming the space in awe.

“Thank you.” He exclaims, a large hand grazing the small of your back as he slips behind you and towards the kitchen. His touch makes your knees go weak and you steady yourself by placing a shaky hand on the door.

“Would you like something to drink?” You hear him call from the kitchen.

“Ah, water please.” You answer, taking a few deep breaths before you saunter over to the counter placing your folder in front of you. He slides the glass in front of you and you nod as a thank you before you begin to sip.

“I don’t think I ever caught your name.” He says leaning back onto the fridge, arms folded over his massive chest.

“Oh, uh, my name is y/n y/ln.” You mumble your index finger rubbing the rim of the glass.

“Lovely, it fits you.” He says, eyes catching your own. You can't help the blush that arises on your cheeks.

“T-thank you.” You manage to stammer out, silently cursing yourself for getting so flustered so quickly. He was a patient not some guy at a bar, you needed to get a grip and you needed to get it fast. “Uhm, you’re a bit younger than most of the other patients i have worked for. Is there actually anything wrong with you?” You quiz, but the words come out a bit harsher than you intended. “Oh goodness, I did not mean that in a bad way at all sir- Mr. Wakatoshi, oh my goodness. I am so sorry.” You exhale letting your head fall into your hands. Your words are all becoming a jumbled mess and you can't help the shame that creeps up your throat. Great, now he probably thinks I'm some kind of asshole.

“No, it's okay. I understand what you were trying to say. Two years ago I had to get a disc in my back replaced and it took a lot out of me. Though I can still get around pretty well, there are still certain tasks that I need help with. I am also set to have another surgery on my knee two months from now, so I thought it would be better to have someone get accustomed to me and my habits beforehands.” He says voice monotone. Is he angry?

“Mr. Wakatoshi, I am so sorry if I came off as rude earlier- I didn’t mean to offend.” You say feeling guilty.

He shakes his head. “You’re fine sweetheart, I’m actually quite flattered that you think that.” Before you have a chance to relish his words he starts again, “I’m going to go put some clothes on, but here. I made a list- well a schedule really- of how my day usually functions. You can look over it and if there is anything that seems to be a bit much for you let me know and we will make alterations to it.” He says walking out of the kitchen and returning with a piece of paper. “Here, I will return shortly.” He says handing you the paper. Your eyes skim the page as you read the text.

7:30am- Arrive & make coffee ( I prefer mine black)

7:45am- Read the newspaper

8:00am- Feed Randy & Lyle

8:15am- Pour second cup of coffee & wash dishes

8:30-9:30am- 2nd Workout (If you could have a bowl of fruits waiting that would be lovely)

10:00am- Post shower stretch (Help isn’t required but appreciated)

10:30-12:00pm- Take Lyle to the park (You are more than welcomed to join us)

12:30pm- Lunch / with Aone* (*Mon. & Thurs. only)

1:00pm- Stop at farmers market

1:30pm- Arrive home & check on Randy

1:35-4:00pm- Varies (You may leave at this time or you may stay for dinner.)

4:00-6:00pm- Prepare dinner

6:05- 6:45pm- Eat then wash dishes

All that is required of you is bolded, the italicized text is completely voluntary, though I would enjoy your company.

“Goodness.” You mumble, placing the paper down. “This is even less than I did with Washijō.” You thought you had it easy then just checking his oxygen, helping him up, and taking him wherever, but you were basically an in-home barista.

“I hope it isn't too much.” The voice startles you as he appears beside you now fully clothed- well not really. He had on a pair of dark sweatpants and a gray sleeveless shirt putting biceps on display for all to see.

“Uh, no, not at all sir. I was expecting much more actually.” You admit eyes darting between the paper and his arms.

“Oh, well I'm sorry to disappoint you.” He says voice low as he bends down to tie his shoes. “I’m sure that there will be more for you to do after my knee surgery.”

“Yes, and I'm not disappointed sir, I'm honestly kind of relieved. I haven't worked with anyone in quite a while, so this is a good refresher to allow me to get back into the routine of things.” You say words falling from your lips before you realize it.

“Is that so?” He asks standing back up to his full height, face full of curiosity.

“Yes, my previous patient passed away and I took some time off. He and I were close, friends even, and the death really hit me hard even though I knew it was coming. It still hurts ya know.” You exclaim as feelings of sadness wash over you at the thought of your friend.

You didn't know what you were expecting when you told him that, maybe an ‘i'm sorry for your loss’ or nothing at all but it is safe to say a hug was not one of those things. His body was warm and his chest was solid- it felt good. You wrapped your own arms around his waist and closed your eyes.

“I hope that one day you and I could be friends as well.” He says quietly pulling away.

You don't fight the smile that graces your face, “Yeah, I feel like we will.”

The words seem to liven him because a large smile spreads across his face again. “Well I’m gonna go lift now, feel free to look around. There's food in the fridge and snacks in the pantry. Make yourself at home.” He says walking to the back of his home.

“Oh, Mr. Wakatoshi!”

“Yes love?” He asks, turning back around, a smile still lingering on his lips.

“Who are Lyle and Randy?” You ask looking back down at the paper, partly to hide the blush that you are now sporting. “Are they your children?”

“Yes, they are my children. I’ll introduce you when I return.” He laughs before turning back around and disappearing into a hallway.

You sigh as soon as he is out of eyesight dropping your head onto the cool marble countertop, raising your head just enough to read the time on the clock that sits unwavering by stairs. 8:37. You had just under an hour to get somewhat acquainted with the home you would now be in for ten hours a day for six days a week. You decide to begin with the kitchen, opening and closing drawers & cabinets identifying the contents within them, occasionally rubbing a light hand over them. Next is the living room. The wide open space is mostly vacant and you take a seat on the loveseat sinking back into the cushions. “Nice.” You mumble.

Pushing yourself up you wonder to every room opening the door just enough for you to peek in and see what it is. You hesitate though when you get to the room at the end of the hallway. It’s his. You could sense it, nonetheless you slowly push the knob down and peek inside. It’s clean just like the rest of his home. You don't linger and decide its best to close the door & move onto the next.

By 9:15 you’d looked throughout his entire home, and it was more beautiful than you could have imagined. The ceilings in the bathrooms were high and had beautiful artworks painted atop of them, they looked as though they belonged in a museum rather than someone's guest bathroom. The spare bedrooms were just as lovely. Each had a shelf that was littered with books and knick-knacks that looked foreign. All of this just fueled your curiosity- what did he do & how long did he do it?

You shrugged as you went back into the kitchen jumping when you saw his large frame in the fridge. He was shirtless, again, but this time his hair was wet and clung to his head. The small gray stripes were clear as day against his dark olive locks.

“Oh, hi. I didn’t think you’d be done yet.” You say awkwardly scratching the back of your neck.

“Yes, I finished early and decided to shower & grab a snack.” He says waving the bowl of strawberries.

“I was about to prepare one for you.” You said.

“Oh, thank you. You don't really have to do anything today, just get accustomed to things.” He says popping the small red fruit into his mouth.

“Would you like me to stretch you out?” You ask, remembering the list.

His eyes shoot up to yours as soon as the question escapes your lips and you realize how wrong it sounded and before you had a chance to correct yourself he spoke. “You stretch me out, I mean i’ll try anything once but i’d prefer the opposite..”

His words startled you to say the least, and almost instinctively the words flowed from your lips, “I’d like to see you try.”

His eyes widened at your remark and at that you began to spew apologies. “Shit, fuck, DAMMIT. God, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to say that, the stretching part I mean. Well I meant that, but not what I said afterwards. Ok, let me start over. What I meant to say is do you need help stretching considering you just got done working out. There, that's what I meant.”

Your eyes are frantic as they lock with his. God, it's the first day and I'm already gonna lose my damn job. Just great. His lips are pressed in a straight line for a moment before he finally lets the edge of them glide up into a small smirk.

“I’ve already stretched, but I suppose I could go a little deeper, maybe a little harder this time.” He says emphasizing the two words as he pops another strawberry between his lips smirk still evident.

“The stretches of course.?” You ask for clarification.

He hums and pops another strawberry between his lips setting the bowl down onto the counter stalking towards you, his large figure quickly engulfing your much smaller one almost instantly. “That’s not quite what I had in mind.”

You can feel his warm breath on your lips as he leans down, “But if that is what you insist.”

A loud bark bellowed throughout the kitchen causing you to jump. He smiled and wrapped a protective arm around your waist. “No need to fret, he was probably just getting anxious to meet you.”

“He?”

“Yes, my son, or at least one of them. Come on so I can introduce you.” He says guiding you down the hallway, to his room you assumed. You were correct, you realized as he pushed the door open revealing a large dog.

“Don’t worry sweetheart he doesn’t bite. Daddy made him promise to be on his best behavior.” He whispers lowly into your ear.

Fuck, this may be harder than I thought.

hiiiiii, this is the second chapter & you can just check the tag eyesthatwontwonder to read the first. anywaysssss i hope you enjoyed! likes and reblogs are always appreciated <33

#haikyu x reader #ushijima x reader #haikyuu!!#ushiwaka #wakatoshi ushijima #shiratorizawa #smut #eyesthatwontwonder #haikyu headcanons #haikyuu smut #haikyū!!

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violetnotez · 3 years

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Its Chirstmasssssssssssssssssssssssssss!!!! I finished this up all last night, so I hope this is at least coherent!

This is for the BNHA Hangout Christmas Collab! Here is a link to future masterpost for the fics for the event!

｡･:*:･ﾟ★ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★

Shoto x reader | one shot

Word Count: 1.5k+

Warnings: cussing

Synposis: When Shoto realizes you’ve been particularly lonely without him during the holiday season, he decided to get you an extra special gift

the music collection | buy me a ko-fi! | requests open for haikyuu+jujutsu kaisen

｡･:*:･ﾟ★ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★

“Shoto-do you really have to go?”

You asked, a pout on your lips as you gazed at your boyfriend.

You were still cuddled up in your shared bed, the heat from Shoto’s skin already dissipating out of the sheets.

You pursed your lips, sitting up crossed leg as You watched him slide each button of his shirt sleeve into their slots, his washed, bi colored hair slightly wet from his shower.

“You know it’s not fair to look that good and then just leave,” you gave him a fake, stern look, earning a small smirk from the man.

He continued working up the shirt, looking sleek yet-well-delicious.

Shoto was just too handsomr for his own good-sharp jawline, perfect skin, piercing bi colored eyes, not to mention his amazing body….sometimes you had to wonder how you were able to get such a flawless man to end up with you.

He finished with his other sleeve, peeking a look at you as he slicked his hair back with his right hand, the strands mixing and framing his face perfectly,

why’d he have to look that good?

“It’s not as if I want to leave, dear-but I do have work,”

You cuddled deeper into the sweatshirt you were wearing, your hands dissappearing in the sleeves.

“But you’re always working-you cant take one day off?”

Shoto chuckled at your obvious neediness, making his way over to where you were sitting. He leaned across the bed to be in front of your sulking form, brushing a piece of your bed head from your face as he laid a gentle kiss on your lips.

“Evil doesn’t take a day off love,”

“Why do you always have to be so-so stoic all the time,” You giggled, playfully placing your hand on his chest and pushing him back.

Even though you and Shoto had been living together for over a year now, it never ceased to amaze you how much the man worked. After working at an agency after UA, Shoto had been incredibly busy-and being the #3 hero, you could see why. If it wasn’t a late night call, he was patrolling, interviewing sidekicks, training, teaching students on their hero studies, interviewing with magazines….he always had something to do.

You couldn’t get mad at him though-he had warned you in the beginning, but you were also accustomed to the hero life as well- well, somewhat.

You had gone to UA to be part of the hero suit course, and had become suit designer for the top heroes (hence how you met Shoto). You witnessed day in and day out how difficult it truly was to be a hero, even if you weren’t one yourself, so you didn’t mind when Todoroki was gone all the time. Yes, it got lonely at times, especially during the holiday season, but you made sure to keep a smile on for him.

“Don’t forget, I did take Christmas off,” Shoto gave you a small grin, his bicolored eyed searching to please you.

You smiled back, your heart thumping out of your chest as you poked him gently in the chest.

“After I asked you too,” you corrected, a teasing tone in your voice.

-And thank god too, I would have so lonely by myself,” you tried to chuckle at your remark, making the situation light.

Shoto knew you too well though-something about your voice didnt sound as happy and light as before. When you joked with him, your laughs were more cheerful and your smile was brighter-but something about you right now felt strange...as if you were holding something back from him.

Shoto’s grin turned into concern, his digits cupping your cheeks gently and guiding your eyes to look at his.

“Have you been feeling lonely lately?” He asked bluntly, your eyes growing wide.

Man-you couldn't hide anything from him.

You chuckled nervously, looking to the side, guilt beginning to fill your chest.

“I-I, no, it’s fine, really, I was only kidding,” you chuckled, your voice taking on a higher pitch.

“You don’t seem to be kidding,” Shoto bite the side of his lip, trying his best to make eye contact with you, “if you want to tell me something, you don’t have to be afraid.”

“Be afraid of the number three hero-“ You rolled your eyes playfully, a soft smirk on your lips, “-never.”

Shoto gave a small grin, worry still in his eyes. He knew something was strange about you lately, the way you seemed to be always craving for him. He hated to admit it, it boosted his ego somewhat to have you were so desperate for his touch- but he knew it wasnt healthy for you to be always missing him.

With him being a pro hero, he had quite alot more duties than most could imagine- which sadly left little for him to indulge in his own personal life. Shoto felt deeply lucky to have someone like you who understood his busy schedule, never batting an eye when he had to cancel yet another date or leave you by yourself on countless nights...but it still left a gnawing sensation of guilt sitting in his stomach.

“Im fine Shoto,” your voice broke into his thoughts, your tone gentle and sweet like a sun kissed cloud, “really.”

Shoto sighed, his thick lashes fanning his cheek. You were stubborn at times, especially when you wanted to reassure him-which only affirmed that you really werent feeling all that great as you said you were. But Shoto didnt want to push it any further- maybe you were really okay, and he was overthinking it….and he was going to be late if he didnt leave soon-

“Go kick some ass for me, kay?”

you gave him a wide smile, placing another quick kiss on his lips.

Shoto blinked a few times, a rush of adrenaline filling his body as he felt your skin against his. His lips tingled from the agonizingly quick touch-he took it upon him to give you a deeply intense kiss, the rush making you breathless.

Shoto pulled away, his eyes having the rarest glint of mischief as he stared back into yours

“Of course love,”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★

“Ya ready Shoto?” You grinned, your body snuggled into your comfiest pair of pajamas and your fingers warmed by a hot cup of cocoa.

Christmas Day has finally came, and thankfully, Shoto kept his promise-he would be staying the whole day with you with no interruptions.

You were just so excited to finally have one day to selfishly love your boyfriend, and on a holiday too!

The room almost felt surreal-it was early morning, the Christmas tree you two decorated light up like a Star, class Christmas music playing in the background, homemade cookies littering the apartment in a sweet aroma and the room in a romantic warm haze of lights.

It just felt so unbelievable perfect and comfortable, Shoto looking sheepishly excited and nervous.

“I think you should go first,” you smiled up at him as he sat down next to you, black coffee snuggled into his hand (in a DynaMIGHT mug, of course gifted to him by the hero himself).

Shoto bit his lip, seemingly trying to hide a smile as he set his mug down on the coffee table.

“Not to be rude love,” he grinned, his hands gently grabbing a large box from under the tree. The paper was a shiny golden hue, snowflakes on the paper reflecting like glitter from the lights on the tree. He slide the box against the wooden floor, being strangely gentle with the contents.

“But my gift cant wait.”

Your eyebrows were knitted together, a confused grin on your lips.

The box was pretty big-what did he get you now?

Shoto never seemed to give you endlessly expensive gifts, having no concept of what was considered fancy or exorbitant- trips to places you could only dream of, hefty amounts of clothes and jewelry, merchandise from your favorite shows...hell you had to talk him out of buying you a car one time-this guy would drop anything to get you whatever you wanted.

And that made you guilty as hell whenever he did-so what did he give you this time around?

Your mind was racing as you looked at the box, trying to read whatever he was thinking about on his face.

“I swear to god Shoto if you bought me that expensive gaming system-“

He chuckled at your obviously guilty face, shaking his head as he smiled.

“No, no it’s nothing like that-“ he said, giving you a mischievous grin, “I think you’ll like it much better than that.”

You blinked a few times, your mind going completely blank.

What could be better than a PS5, Xbox, or Switch?

You looked down at the box, feeling strangely nervous as you obeyed Shoto’s wishes, slowly opening the top lid….until it rustles.

The box.

Moved on its own.

You squeaked out in surprise, your hands slamming the barely opened lid back down and looking at Shoto for help.

He had never seen you look so adorably confused in his life, a rosy hue on his cheeks as he looked at you with a loving expression.

“It’s okay,” he whispered reassuringly as he wrapped his hands nervously around yours.

You felt him guide your hands up, you both now lifting the lid off the large box.

Shoto took it and placed it gently on the ground, sitting back to watch you look into the box.

The box rustled again, your mind so utterly confused….what could make a box do that?

“Shoto I-“ you tried to ask, but all he did was nod to the box, signaling for you to just look.

You did as you were told, getting on your knees to peer inside…

A gasp left your lips, your heart beating out of your chest as you looked inside at the sweet little baby kitten playing with their bowl of yarn in the box.

“Hi baby,” you cooed in awe at the little baby, your hands scooping them out and snuggling them to your chest.

They were so soft and warm, their fur as white as a snowball with rosy pink paws.

“Oh my god-Shoto-you really didn’t- are they really-?” You were in such a state of shock, you couldn’t seem to form any coherent words as you looked at your sheepish boyfriend.

“I-I didn’t know exactly what to get you...but after seeing how much you missed me throughout the day, I thought it was fitting to get you a companion for when I’m gone,” he smiled, his digits nervously fidgeting in his lap as he waited for your approval.

You petted the little creature on your chest, it’s big doe eyes staring at you with such confusion you couldn’t help but giggle.

“Shoto…it’s perfect,” you smiled at your boyfriend, leaning in to plant him a kiss on his lips.

You giggled at his expression, clearly not expecting your show of affection as his cheeks turned a fiery red.

“I-I’m glad to here that,”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★

None of these characters or shows are my own, only the storylines and narratives I create are mine. Copying, stealing, plagiarizing, rewording, or using my storylines in other media, claiming to be your own, or reposting without my consent is not allowed.

#bnha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #shoto x reader #bnha shoto x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #bnha shoto todoroki x reader #mha shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki x reader #bnha todoroki x reader #mha todoroki x reader #shoto x reader fluff #shoto todoroki x reader fluff #todoroki x reader fluff

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fandoms-are-my-friends-1321 · 3 years

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May I Have This Dance?

Well, here I am getting attached to a character that doesn’t have any content for them, so I’m writing my own content. This is very self indulgent, but maybe someone out there loves this man as much as I do. If you haven’t seen Cruella, I personally liked it and it’s worth the watch. Anyway, hope you all enjoy it!

Description: Jeffrey is having a stressful evening trying to make sure that everything is ready for the Baroness’s gala, and the reader offers to calm his nerves

Warnings: none that I can think of, other than spoilers for Cruella, so read at your own risk!

Jeffrey rushed around the lavish Hellman Hall, his heeled shoes clicking on the floor with every quick step. Everything had to be perfect tonight, or the Baroness would have his head served on a plater. Not literally of course, but then again Jeffrey wouldn’t put it past her to do such a thing.

While he wasn’t present for it, Jeffrey was well aware that the Baroness has killed Estella’s mother. However, he had to keep his mouth shut if he wanted to keep his fashion job. The only person keeping him sane was Y/N, a co-worker that he saw daily at the House of Baroness. Jeffrey found Y/N’s work to be impeccable, despite the Baroness not believing so, and he knew that if he ever had his own business that Y/N would be the top designer.

Right now however, there was to much to think about. Had the main dishes for tonight’s party been prepared by the chefs? Was the color of the decorations right? Would there be enough parking for all of the guests? All of these questions and more swam around in Jeffrey’s mind, and it was beginning to overwhelm him. Luckily, Y/N arrived just in time.

“I brought lunch! A tuna salad sandwich and a bag of classic chips. I know it’s your favorite, and with all this work you are doing, you’re going to need your strength,” Y/N said cheerfully as they handed a brown paper sack over to Jeffrey.

He smiled back at them as he grabbed the bag. “Thank you for bringing this, Y/N. I appreciate it.” The two stood in an awkward silence for a few moments, neither of them knowing what to say. Y/N decided to bring up work again. “So you’ll be at the gala tonight, correct?”

“Yes, I’ll be leading the guests inside and making sure everything is in order. Will you be there tonight?”

“I received my invitation this morning! It’ll be nice to enjoy some time off, and being able to admire the fancy clothes without designing them.”

Jeffrey couldn’t help but smile even more. Y/N was going to be at the gala tonight, and maybe he would have the slightest chance of getting closer to them on a more personal level. Suddenly, one of the guards called his name, and Jeffrey was startled out of his thoughts. “I have to get back to work, but I’ll see you tonight,” he said as he turned to leave. Y/N gently squeezed Jeffrey’s shoulder before he could make it any further, causing a light blush to dust his cheeks. “Please, don’t work yourself to hard, alright?”

Jeffrey nodded, and Y/N grinned as they walked back towards the entrance, giving a small wave as they left through the door. Jeffrey could feel the nervousness bubbling in his stomach, but he couldn’t tell if it was due to stress or the interaction he just had with his attractive co-worker. He shook his head. His feelings would have to wait until after everything was set up and ready.

That evening, Jeffrey was dressed in his finest velvet suit, and his black bow tie added a bit of flair to his outfit. He waited anxiously at the door as all of the guests began to file in, most of them famous models or designers. Y/N was nowhere to be seen. Jeffrey dashed from the door into the kitchen to make sure all of the food was taken out to the tables. Jeffrey let out a small gasp as he flung open the swinging door that led to the kitchen.

Y/N had just walked through the archway leading to the main floor, and the colors of their outfit stood out in the crowd. Y/N’s smile never faltered as they chatted with the other quests, and Jeffrey wished that he was the one they were talking with. Still, there was to much work to be done, and he once again ran off to another part of the mansion.

Y/N on the other hand was looking for Jeffrey. Surely he would be easy to spot with his black glasses perfectly framing his face, but Y/N had no luck finding him. The night was young though, and Y/N held hope as they continued to talk with a couple of the other designers from work.

The party was now in full swing. People were dancing and eating, but Jeffrey found that he didn’t have much of an appetite. Something could go wrong in an instant, and if it did, it would be his fault. Jeffrey stood by one of the buffet tables, and his brown eyes caught sight of Y/N for the second time that night. He couldn’t remove his gaze from them, and John, a bodyguard and valet for the Baroness, recognized Jeffrey’s lovesick appearance in an instant.

“Why don’t you go up and ask them to dance,” John asked as Jeffrey quickly glanced between him and Y/N.

Jeffrey looked down at the floor. “I-I don’t think that’s a good idea. They wouldn’t want to dance with me.”

“Oh come now, with your charm and dashing good looks, there is no way they could resist you. I think you should give it a try. The results might surprise you.” John actually knew more than Jeffrey did, for Y/N had confessed to him that they had a crush on Jeffrey a week earlier. Jeffrey wasn’t convinced though, and simply mumbled, “Maybe later”.

Y/N had witnessed the whole interaction between John and Jeffrey, and they could tell that the stress was starting to get to Jeffrey. He popped his knuckles every few minutes, and his eyes darted around the room. Y/N decided that there was only one thing they could do, and they confidently strode over to Jeffrey. “May I have this dance,” they asked with a gentle smile.

At first, Jeffrey had no idea what to say. Of course he wanted to dance with Y/N, but the nagging feeling that he would make a fool of himself was still lodged in the back of his mind. Finally, he managed to spit out a response. “Yes, I would love to dance with you.” Jeffrey took Y/N’s hand as they made their way onto the dance floor. The music had changed from an upbeat jazz tune to a slow waltz.

Jeffrey wrapped his arm around Y/N’s waist, and they placed their arms on his slim shoulders. The feel of the velvet under Y/N’s fingertips was satisfying, and the energy between them was undeniably. As the melody filled the room, the pair danced around the room, and Jeffrey could feel the tension leave his body with ever step he took. Jeffrey’s hand squeezed Y/N’s hip gently as he grinned at them. “You’re a wonderful dancer,” he said.

“You’re a pretty good dancer yourself,” Y/N giggled as the song slowly came to a close. Jeffrey and Y/N danced the rest of the evening, and both of them felt as if they had known each other long before they met at the House of Baroness. After the final song finished, Jeffrey offered to escort Y/N to their car.

“Tonight was amazing! Thank you so much for spending it with me, Jeffrey. I know how busy things can get around here,” Y/N mentioned as they stood by the driver side door of their car.

“I had a wonderful time too,” Jeffrey replied as he shifted on his feet. Should he kiss them on the cheek? Would it be to sudden? Before he could even find the right answer, Y/N laid a kiss on Jeffrey’s cheek, and pushed a strand of black hair behind his ear. Without even thinking of the consequences, Jeffrey returned the gesture, and planted a kiss on Y/N’s own cheek. Both of them were a blushing mess, but it felt right all the same. Y/N said their goodbyes as they started up their car, all the while their joyful expression never left.

Jeffrey watched as the taillights of the vehicle grew smaller and smaller, and he knew that tonight wouldn’t be the last night he spent with Y/N. John crossed his arms as he stood by Jeffrey’s side, a smirk forming as he too watched the car leave. “See, I told you that the results would surprise you.”

#Jeffrey x reader #jeffrey x reader #cruella #cruella 2021 #x reader #fluff #movies #this is purely for my own indulgence #but someone else might like it too

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sansmania · 3 years

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its o VER WHY WAS THIS SO LONG?

part 1 | part 2 | art that goes with the fic

Title: Your Man

Ship: Boss [ @bonelyheartsclub ]/ GN Reader

Descrip: take it im drifting out to sea because HES GONNA BE A COWBOY thE END

Willie had taken his time to take in the damage done to the beloved boots, tutting and frowning at the holes and shredded leather.

"Oh yeah, I can fix 'em for ya, but it'll take a few days, Mr. Boss. That lil' dog did a number to these." Boss exhaled through his nasal bone with a silent nod. It seems 'Toby' had also managed to dislodge some of the pins that held the heels in, which would mean the boots needed to be completely stripped and rebuilt from the sole up.

"That is fine, I suppose. They mean a great deal to me, so take the time you need to get them back to perfect condition." He seemed a bit emotional about leaving the boots behind, and you gently assured the skeleton that they were in skilled hands. Leaving his contact information, the two of you turned to leave.

Until a bony hand grabbed your neckline again.

"You said this store specializes in leather and boots, correct?"

"Yes?" You held the word out longer than necessary, red pinpricks looking down at you, then to the fluorescent shoes between you.

"I would like to peruse them, then. It would not hurt for me to have a few more sets, anyway. And I am beyond done with these sneakers. I feel like one of those fictional circus clowns."

You bit your tongue at his presumption, knowing Boss wouldn't listen to a word you had to say on the subject, and accepted your fate in the tobacco and wood lacker scented hell.

After a bit of searching, pausing only to laugh at some of the ridiculous 'southern fact' signs they had decorating a shelf, the pair of you found the boot section of the large store.

"Human, I highly doubt if Texas were real, that it would home ninety percent of the planet's spider population." You couldn't help the snort that came out at Boss' comment as he walked over to the wall of shoes.

His eyelights were transfixed on the detailed stiches in some of the leather boots. His phalanges traced over a pair that had some gaudy gems placed into them- a pair that had studs- red stained leather- black snake skin. He was strangely silent as he looked over each set with wonder.

You didn't think any of them were Boss' style, to be honest. They were about classic as classic cowboy boots get- you could have sworn you even spotted a pair made of alligator skin.

"These." He finally spoke, pulling down one of the only sets that seemed to be ankle high. They were a deep maroon, black stitching along the sides and folds, and a very obvious steel toe embedded inside. There were a few gold embellishments and you felt they were gaudy as all hell.

But, that expression of wonder in Boss' eyes made him look like a child on gyftmas morning.

It was cute.

He was cute.

"I mean, sure, if you're into red, black and gold-" The skeleton flicked his eyes towards you, making your mouth snap shut. He took a seat on a nearby bench, listlessly kicking off the offending accessories to try the new boots on.

Boss became silent once again, taking in the shine of leather as he tilted his feet and legs to get a good look at them.

"There is a mirror over there." You mention, pointing a few feet away, and he stood up to admire the shape of the shoes. And while he did so, you also found yourself admiring him.

Boss was very tall- even without the help of his stiletto heels- and his broad shoulders squared in perfect posture made almost anything he wore look breathtaking. His choice of attire today fit snuggly against his ribcage, tapering down his spine- making Boss look, pun intended, skeleton thin. Tight, but soft, leather pants hugged his narrow hips and bony legs, perfectly shaping his body.

"Hmm. A bit lower than what I am used to, but they are quite fetching on me. What do you think, human?"

He caught you staring, once again, in the mirror- just as your eyes had been slowly trailing down his legs, brain becoming grey mush. You curse quietly, turning your head away with a mutter of agreement.

"Sadly, they do not match the rest of my attire. I should see if they have apparel here to compliment my figure and accessories." He made an amused sound when you cocked your head at the suggestion, cheeks burning with new fervor.

Oh. He knew exactly what he was doing now. Boss wouldn't even play with the idea if any of his family was around, but since it was just the two of you, he was going to continue his sadistic game.

When you had first met Boss, you would have sworn he didn't have a playful bone in his body- the serious tone and way he carried himself made it seem he was all work and no play. But, as you got to know him, his true colors seemed to blossom forth. Yes, he hated puns, that didn't mean he had no sense of humor. His humor was dry and a little cynical- and you had nearly soiled yourself in laughter when he cracked his first joke around you.

He also found Blue and Nox's rivalry amusing, egging them on at times just to get under their skin.

And when then two of you were alone, he was much more relaxed, allowing more of his jovial side to come out. Sometimes it was a welcome blessing and sometimes it was not.

As it was at your expense today, it was one of those times that his sense of humor didn't delight.

"Uh, s-sure. Why not? Let's find you a nice pair of chaps-" Boss' amused smile caught you off guard as he held a hand up to stop you from moving. You had hoped he would allow you to help, maybe in a way save yourself from this horrible fate.

"No, I believe I can handle dressing myself just fine. Though, I will listen to your opinion after I have chosen an outfit." The smirk didn't go away as you made a noise of disdain. The skeleton sauntered off on his own, leaving you to scream internally at being caught red handed and was going to make you suffer for it.

When he turned a corner, you were on your feet- tossing the old converse in your inventory- and did your best to sneak around the store behind the him. Occasionally, Boss would turn his head out of suspicion, causing you to duck behind a shelf, while he thumbed through the racks of clothes.

He was enjoying teasing you like this, smirk still apparent on his face. You were by no means subtle, so Boss knew you were tailing him around, and that only added to his amusement.

You peeked over a row of jackets that were fastened with tassels while Boss sifted through some button up shirts. His foot tapped along to the music with perfect rhythm, though, you were more shocked when his low voice was barely audible.

He was quietly singing along to the tune.

Boss Gothic Serif.

Was singing country.

And he knew you were watching and listening.

The next time he glanced over his shoulder, Boss caught your reddened face as a devious smile curled on his skull. He knew exactly what he was doing.

"Human, I have picked out a suitable ensemble. Feel free to wait there for me to change." You didn't hide this time when he spoke up, accepting defeat, stepping out to follow the monster towards the changing rooms.

You knew from the first day of meeting these skeletons that they would be the death of you. You just didn't expect it to be in a dime store cowboy shop in the city.

Flopping down on another bench, you waited for death to finish his wardrobe swap and drag you to the dark depths- knowing now that he was going to be dressed like a cowboy with Shania Twain playing gently to send you off.

The shuffle of cloth behind the barn themed doors caught your attention, the soft click of bones on wood as a lock was lifted and the doors swung open.

Words choked in your mouth as it hung ajar, Boss stepping out of the small room with the most smug look on his face you had ever seen him muster.

His head was tilted down ever so slightly, burning red eyes shaded by the black hat atop his skull. Your eyes dragged down to the crisp maroon and black button up, gold skull bola tie strung in the collar and rested on his nearly bare breastbone.

The shirt was rolled at the sleeves, showing off his battle scarred hands and arms, and the tail tucked neatly into a pair of tight black dyed jeans; adorned and held up by a red leather belt that had a large gold skull buckle to keep it all together. The jeans hugged the skeleton's frame all the way down to the coordinated boots.

Boss leaned against the doorframe, taking in your reaction with sadistic glee; How you couldn't form a single word in appreciation to his wardrobe selection. How your face was red enough to put his shirt to shame. How your eyes lingered over the single undone button at his clavicle.

How your reaction made his soul thrum with pride.

"Comments?" He finally spoke, beyond amused at the way you startled to his rough voice- dropping it an octave or two, successfully getting further reactions out of you. Finally, you managed to swallow the hard, dry lump that formed in your throat, tearing your gaze away to look back to Boss' expecting eyes.

You coughed and looked away

"Yee. Haw?" Was all you could manage as he stepped forward, boots loudly clacking against the hardwood floor. The terrifying skeleton you called a friend, and obviously waxed red towards, stopped mere feet before you, dragging your attention back to him.

"Is that all you have to say? I would appreciate some feedback, maybe I should make another selection if this doesn't suit me-"

"No, don't!" You found your voice as Boss turned heel to find something else to fluster you with. He quirked a brow ridge at your outburst, returning to his previous position, arms crossed as he awaited to hear your real feelings.

"You. You look good, Boss." You did your best to hold your voice steady as his gaze made you shrink into the bench, like you were going to become a permanent fixture in the store.

"Just ‘good’?" Oh, he was going to make you suffer. Breathing hard through your nose, you looked back up at him. Boss already knew how you felt, so this was just torture to feed his ego.

And you may as well feed it.

"Fine." There was a pause as you found the words. “You look amazing. Handsome. Stunning.” You could feel your face and neck darkening with each admission- at this point, had you even been referring to just how he looked now? He seemed to preen at each compliment, all too pleased to drink in your words of praise.

"Then I do believe I will purchase these items. They may be in start contrast to the rest of my wardrobe, but some variety in life never hurts."

It was interesting to watch Boss fannagle with the cashier about buying all the clothes items while he was still in them- but he managed to do it, and in style, if you were honest.

With his boots squared away, clothes tucked into his inventory, and you at his side, Boss literally strutted out of the store- leading you both back to his car.

"Human, you make it so easy to fluster you, you do realize that." Boss' smile from before had not left his features, even as you pulled into the culdesac in which you lived.

"Yeah, I'm aware, Boss." You heaved a final embarrassed sigh as the car came to a stop at your curb. Gathering your belongings, and what little bit of pride you had left, the car door swung open and you turned back to him. "Tease the human that has feelings for you. Ha, ha."

"But, uh." You pause, leaning on the door to look Boss in the eyes.

"Have fun getting into your room before Red or Stretch see you, Cowboy."

#bhc #kisa writes #bonelyheartsclub #theres a reason i dont write fanfic anymore

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amishfruit · 3 years

Text

Lady Of The Lake, Chapter One: Wade

pairings: fakir/ahiru, background mytho/rue

word count: 7048

on ao3

A young woman comes out of the lake one day mid summer, walking into town completely nude, long ginger hair falling in waves over her petite frame. Her wide blue eyes blink naively back at the stunned people milling about. It doesn’t take long for someone to provide her with a blanket to cover herself with and later clothes once they’ve gotten somewhere safe to dress.

Once the initial shock wears off a bit, the woman observes the space she has been welcomed into. She sits on a bed dressed with a soft purple duvet and a pleasant assortment of pillows. It is simple but elegant, the walls were left mostly bare, but the sweet collection of knick knacks more than made up for it. The clothes she's wearing now were given to her off a rack by the bed, where a modest number of dresses hung. She finally turns to the friend who had invited her into their room and attempts to speak, at first nothing but a strangled call comes out but after clearing her throat she begins again. “Thank you.” she meets eyes with them earnestly, “for helping a stranger.”

The person across from her flushes lightly, seated on a stool in front of a small vanity.

Tucking a strand of their long black hair that had fallen out of a lovely ribbon behind their ear, they answer. “You’re very welcome, though I don't think we are truly strangers anymore.” Their voice is gentle and light, but there is a playful glint in their grey eyes and the woman of the lake realizes she is being teased.

Her cheeks heat, but she knows it is not malicious. “You're right, we aren't strangers.” She huffs a small laugh, “though i do not know your name, i am..” her face falls momentarily as she struggles to remember, but it comes to her in time. “Ahiru. my name is Ahiru.”

Her new friend smiles beautifully in response, rosy lips contrasting against their pale unmarred skin. “A lovely name, I am Raetsel.” A pause, “..forgive me if this is rude, but why, or, how did you walk out of the lake today? Where do you come from? Also, are you alright?” it all comes out in one breath and Raetsel gnaws on her lip anxiously once she finishes.

Ahiru smiles a small, sad smile, blue eyes seeming to dim. “I don't remember..I cannot answer even one of your questions, Raetsel. I only know my name.”

Raetsel leans forward delicately, concerned. “You don't need to answer me Ahiru, i'm sorry to have upset you.” She grasps ahirus hand in hers and gives an encouraging squeeze.

This seems to warm Ahiru who lifts their joined hands and leans forward to embrace her new friend. “I think I am alright.”

-----

The sun was just at its highest when she had risen from the lake and after a very eventful few hours of awareness, she finds herself quite hungry and tired. Raetsal hears her stomach growl and laughs, leading her to the kitchen and informing her that it is time for supper. Upon entering, Ahiru wakes up a bit in response to the wonderful smell coming from the stove. She follows and sits next to Raetsel at the table, there is an extra setting next to her. Before she can ask, the smell gets closer and stronger and she can't suppress a delighted sound as her nose chases the scent. Opening her eyes after a particularly deep sniff she is met with the sight of a tall, handsome stranger. Their skin is a deep olive shade and it compliments their dark green hair beautifully. Like Raetsel, a few locks of shorter hair fall out of a low ponytail that reaches down to the middle of their back, the ribbon tying their hair in place is simple and not as decorative as Raetsel’s, but it has its own charm. Their face is stoic, thick eyebrows resting low over their sharp green eyes. They turn to the side a bit and Ahiru admires their strong profile, a strong nose is the most noticeable feature from this angle, long and curved down with a high bridge that flows into sharp brow bones. Their jaw is square and defined, but their neck and shoulders are more lithe than she expects. There is clear strength in their arms but they maintain a lean figure that holds a surprising level of grace.

They turn to ahiru with a quizzical expression, lips twisting before they decide to speak. “I take it you are the lady from the lake?” Their voice is rich and low, quiet but stern.

She nods slowly, “yes, i am Ahiru. Thank you for allowing me into your home.”

The stranger sets a plate of food in front of Raetsel, and then another in front of her giving a noncommittal grunt. “Mm. I’m Fakir, am I correct in assuming Raetsel has already introduced herself?”

Ahiru smiles, “yes, she has been very kind to me.”

Fakir looks at Raetsel, searching for something in her face that he seems to find. He nods to himself, sitting down next to Ahiru. “I hope the food is acceptable to you.”

She grins, “it smells delightful, I have no doubts I will enjoy it.”

He flushes a bit at this, fidgeting with the rolled up sleeves of his white linen button up.

Raetsel laughs lightly, “Please excuse my brother dear Ahiru, he is not accustomed to company.” She leans closer to Ahiru and continues in a conspiratorial tone, “Especially not company as kind and lovely as yourself.” She ends it with a wink, laughing as fakir chokes slightly on his food and flushes red.

Ahiru, for her part, is just as embarrassed and is very sure her face has turned the same color as her hair. Rather than trying to respond, she stuffs a bite of the meal into her mouth, quickly forgetting her own embarrassment as she tastes things she has never tasted before. “Oh!’ She exclaims after swallowing, “this is so good!”

Raetsel hums her agreement, “Fakir is a talented cook, most of his ingredients come from the garden out back as many of them are not commonly used in this town.”

Fakir seems to be pointedly ignoring the conversation, focusing on his plate and pretending not to notice how his ears are burning.

Ahiru turns to him, “where did you learn to cook like this?” She asks earnestly.

He seems surprised at being directly addressed but he swallows and clears his throat, looking to Raetsel for help but eventually realizing he cannot avoid the question. “I taught myself.” he meets her eyes and looks away quickly.

Raetsel, satisfied that she has tortured him enough for one night, fills in the blanks. “Fakir came here as a very young boy from a place far away, there are spices and herbs from his home that aren’t commonly used here and when my mother took him in she provided him with many books about his culture, though the food is what turned out to be most important to him.” She smiles at her adoptive brother, who’s embarrassment seems to have faded if only slightly. “He has been cooking for our family ever since.”

Ahiru is very impressed, taking a moment to look at Fakir with appreciation. He pointedly ignores her stare and lets his bangs fall forward to shield his eyes.

They finish the rest of their meal with minimal conversation, both of the women respecting Fakirs clear desire for the topic to be dropped. When every plate has been cleared, Ahiru offers to clean them up. Raetsel quirks a brow at her and asks if she has ever actually washed a dish before.

Ahiru rubs the back of her neck, “well I.. don’t remember if I have.” Fakir seems surprised at her response and she avoids eye contact with both of them, “but it can’t be that hard! I remembered that they needed to be cleaned, right? I’m sure I can figure it out!” She is so passionate that Raetsel chooses not to question her further, but she does accompany the tiny woman into their kitchen and watches over her as she carefully cleans and dries each dish. Fakir joins them in the kitchen, quietly putting away ingredients and tools that he had used to cook their meal, when he is done he bids them both farewell and retreats to his room.

“I hope he hasn’t put you off.” Raetsel comments, showing Ahiru where she can hang the dish rag.

Ahiru shakes her head, “not at all! The food was so delicious, he is very skilled.”

Raetsel is amused, “you didn’t find him rude?”

Confused, Ahiru tilts her head to the side. “Why would i? He fed me.. that was very kind.”

Raetsel smiles, “you have a very open heart, many of the townspeople have issues with him. He's just a bit too blunt..” she puffs out a breath, “sometimes they misunderstand him, and he gets frustrated.”

Ahiru nods sadly, “I would too.”

Raetsel seems surprised at this answer at first, before settling into a very pleased disposition. “You are really something new Ahiru.”

The aforementioned lady blushes softly and straightens up. “T-thank you Raetsal.” She ducks her head in a miniature bow.

“Come dear, I’ll show you your room.”

————

Once she gets settled and bids goodnight to her host, Ahiru takes a moment to breathe. Slow, in and out. Feeling a bit overwhelmed with, well everything that had happened in the day, she wishes to braid her hair, dress down and sleep. In the room Raetsel provided to her there is a vanity, and on top ribbons and a wide tooth comb. Ahiru smiles at the thoughtful touch and carefully undresses, mindful of her steps so that she does not damage Raetsels’ lovely dress. She hangs it on a hook by the door, removing her socks and leaving her chemise on, remembering the earlier incident and cringing at herself. Next, she sits on the vanity stool and takes the comb carefully, starting at the ends of her long hair and working her way up slowly. Once all the tangles are gone she separates it into three sections and plaits in a simple pattern. She hums as she does this, a tune she knows and loves, something comforting. At the end of her hair, she ties a thick satin ribbon into a bow and tucks herself into the comfortable twin bed.

She is on the lake, dancing mournfully by herself. In the distance, she sees a royal couple performing a grand pas de deux. They only have eyes for each other, and she dearly loves them both. Her steps don’t falter with her sorrow, she only dances more freely, allowing her tears to fall as she lifts herself up into the air. The foggy air grows dark and eventually she realizes she’s alone, the prince and princess are gone and everything is quiet except for the sound of her own crying as she falls into the lake.

She wakes with a start, the grief in her chest real and heavy, cheeks wet. Deep breaths in, and out. Again, until she feels ready to open her eyes. The sun is rising, shining soft light on her face and the pain from her dream eases slightly. She sits up, donning her socks once more and making her way to the window and leans on the sill, observing the small flock of birds on a neighboring roof. Soon Ahiru is able to put the nightmare out of her mind, and the sun gets higher so she dresses once again, at first struggling to fasten things by herself but figuring it out through trial and error. Her braid is a mess from tossing and turning, so she sets to combing her hair out once more and choosing to do two braids today, parts it all down the middle. Her fingers are quick and nimble and she picks a set of wide gray ribbons to match her dress. Once she is ready, she makes her way back into the kitchen, hoping she hasn’t woken up too early.

At the stove once again, Fakir doesn’t notice her right away, continuing to add ingredients and muttering quietly to himself on occasion.

Ahiru chooses to sit down rather than interrupt, leaning on her palm and watching him as he works. His shoulders are wide but she can see how narrow his waist is, emphasized by the plain apron he wears. Fortunately, she catches herself as her gaze wanders lower and her eyes snap back up to his hands. They are large and clearly strong, but he handles everything he holds so gently. Ahiru wonders if she would ever want to see the strength in those hands used rather than controlled, and she cannot decide. Lost in thought, and busy staring a hole into fakir, she doesn’t see Raetsel come in.

“Oh ahiru! You look lovely this morning!”

She doesn’t react quick enough and is caught when fakir turns around quickly, eyes wide and mouth opened in a surprised little ‘o’. they both flush and break eye contact, electing to ignore Raetsel’s amused smirk.

“Smells good Fakir, something special for our visitor?” Raetsel continues teasingly.

He shoots her a sharp glare but it lacks it’s usual spark when his face is still bright red. “It’s just bread, Raetsel.” His tone is measured but it’s clear he’s irritated.

Ahiru finds the exchange remarkably cute and tilts her head to the side in wonder as she observes the siblings.

“We should get you your own clothes and shoes.” Raetsel says to her, looking at the ill-fitting dress she’d loaned ahiru. “I don't mind sharing, but they’re much more comfortable in the right size. When we are done eating I know someone who can help.”

Ahiru is hesitantly excited about this, swinging her feet a bit under the table.

Fakir comes with the food soon after, setting each plate on the table.

“Woah.” Ahiru states quietly, when Fakir had said bread earlier, she hadn’t expected french toast. Upon tasting, she notices something floral and a bit of spice and sweet honey. She can’t identify all the flavors but she loves it all and happily digs in.

Raetsel watches her in amusement for a moment and then turns to Fakir who also watches Ahiru eat with an unreadable expression. He is focusing more on their guest than he is his own breakfast and she stifles a laugh as he misses his own mouth.

Ahiru seems to realize she has all but ignored the two others at the table and slows down, swallowing and wiping her face with a napkin. “This is very good fakir.” She looks down as she says it, a bit embarrassed by her own actions.

Raetsel agrees, “delightful as usual.”

Fakir thanks them quietly, looking at his plate with the same unreadable expression and eating slowly. The two women finish eating before him, but Ahiru still insists on cleaning the dishes that he isn’t eating off of. He almost smiles at her, but the urge to confuses him and he is easily distracted.

“Are you coming with us?” Ahiru asks when he brings his own plate to the sink, wide eyes boring into his skull.

Fakir falters, looking at Raetsel who simply shrugs. “Uh.. I don't know if I would really be of any help.” He hopes his reasoning is enough to appease her.

Ahiru furrows her eyebrows, “why not?”

“He’s avoiding his fan club.” Raetsel chimes in, amused by the exchange and how easily their guest catches her brother off guard.

Ahiru does not know what this means, imagining a group of people gathering together to discuss fans or perhaps dance with them as she remembers doing many times. She notes the remembrance to herself before speaking, “was there a disagreement? If you’re in a club with them, you should be friends right?”

Fakir looks at her incredulously, “I'm not in the club.”

“Well then, what’s the problem?” She asks innocently.

Raetsal chooses not to help clarify, retrieving her boots from the front door and sitting at the table to lace them, leaving the two alone.

“It’s- well,” he shoots her a quizzical glare, “are you teasing me?”

Ahiru is thoroughly confused, “what?! No!! Why would you think that?”

Fakir can tell she’s being truthful, “it's not really a club Ahiru, Raetsel was joking.”

She sticks out her lip in a small pout, “why?”

He sighs in defeat, “you’ll understand once we get there.”

Raetsel returns to them, “so you’re coming?” She sounds surprised and more than a little impressed.

“Yay!” Ahiru claps her dainty hands together cheerfully.

Fakir nods, still unsure of how she had convinced him.

—

The summer weather allows them to leave the house quickly, not needing to don cloaks or extra layers, and they walk a short while to the stables.

Raetsel turns to Ahiru, noting the nervous glances she shoots towards the horses they pass. “Have you ever ridden?”

Ahiru’s face is pale and she wrings her hands in front of herself. “No.”

Fakir turns from where he is retrieving their steeds. “No? Or you don’t know?”

She laughs a bit at this. “Definite no. I think I would remember a creature of this size.”

Raetsel notes that Ahiru is a whole head shorter than herself, and Fakir towers over

her in a way that would intimidate anyone else, but it doesn’t seem to bother the bright little flame of a woman. “You should ride with Fakir then, he can keep you safe.”

Fakir looks at her, opening his mouth to argue but he snaps his jaw shut once he sees that Ahiru looks less afraid. He waits for Raetsel to mount her own horse before swinging himself up onto his. They both look at Ahiru who is once again starting to look a bit sickly.

“You’ll be fine.” Fakir reassures, “you were watching me and Raetsel right?”

She nods, spark returning to her eyes and mouth set in a hard line of determination. She steps into the stirrup that Fakir has left empty for her and attempts to swing herself up onto the horse's back like her two companions. At first she thinks she has succeeded, but her leg doesn’t go all the way up and she begins to slide backwards towards the ground. Fakir grabs her ankle, then uses his other hand to guide her by the waist until she is settled in front of him. Her head is still spinning from the near fall and it takes her a moment to find her words again.

“Thank you.” She breathes, overwhelmed by the feeling of his hand still on her waist.

He moves his hand as if he’s been burned and thanks everything that she can’t see his face. “Dont mention it.” he responds gruffly, avoiding Raetsel and using the reins to steer their ride forward.

Raetsel follows them close behind, looking up at the bright sky and wondering what good deed she did for the universe to think her worthy of this newfound entertainment.

They ride mostly in silence, except for Ahiru’s occasional exclamations of delight or awe as they pass under trees and through town. She is constantly turning her head in an attempt to take everything in.

It isn’t a very long journey, and soon they come to a quaint little shop with mannequins dressed in a variety of fabrics displayed in the large front windows.

Raetsel is the first to dismount, smoothing her skirts down as Fakir follows her and offers a hand to Ahiru.

Once the three of them are safely on the ground, Fakir guides their horses to a small grazing area where they will wait obediently until the shopping is complete.

Raetsel leads them into the shop, Ahiru close behind her and Fakir bringing up the tail end. A bell rings as they open the door and a head of blonde hair pops up from behind a counter.

“Welcome in- oh! Raetsel! Let me grab Pike.” Before they can respond, the shopkeeper is running to the back, pigtails bouncing as she moves.

Fakir finds a bench in a corner and sits down, hoping the racks of fabric and garments are enough to hide him.

The shopkeeper returns with her coworker, “has Lilie helped you at all yet?” She asks, tying her shoulder length violet tinted hair into a high ponytail.

“Hmph.” Lilie pouts, “I thought you’d want to do the consultation together.” She lowers her voice so only the three women can hear her, “plus, the handsome Fakir has graced us with his presence.”

Pike rolls her eyes, “you are so dramatic.” She scolds, though it doesn’t have much bite when she is craning her neck to peek at the man hiding in the corner.

Raetsel clears her throat politely, “My new friend could use your expertise.”

The two shopkeepers turn to Ahiru at last, looking her up and down before turning to each other.

“Do we have enough yellow left?” Pike asks Lilie, ushering Ahiru to a section of the room where the floor is cleared and producing a measuring tape from thin air.

Lilie hums, moving towards a rack against the wall and sifting through the materials until she finds a sunny yellow linen. “Yes! And perhaps a blue?” She suggests, stacking a soft blue cotton atop the yellow draped over her arm.

“Oh yes, that will compliment her eyes nicely.” Pike addresses Ahiru directly for the first time, “how many dresses are you looking for today?”

Ahiru looks helplessly towards Raetsel, letting Pike move her arms as she takes her measurements.

“We are starting her wardrobe today, so however many items you both think she will need.” Raetsal answers, earning a surprised look from Lilie.

“What happened to the rest of your clothes?” The blonde asks, pausing in her search for fabrics.

“I don't have any.” Ahiru answers simply.

“Long story.” Raetsel adds.

The two accept this answer easily, “Well then, we should send you home with something today. Lilie?”

Lilie looks over, setting the chosen materials on a large cutting table. “A premade garment for now?”

Pike nods, “just try to find the smallest things you can and we can alter it to fit her properly.”

Raetsel interjects, “she will also need shoes, mine are too large for her. Do you think you have something that would work?”

“Oh i’m sure we do,” Lilie answers, returning with an armful of dresses and blouses. “Shoes are over by Fakir.”

He starts at the mention of his name, looking at his surroundings and finding the shelves stocked with shoeboxes.

Pike measures her feet and calls out the length, instructing Fakir on where to find the correct size of boots.

He carries them to Ahiru once he has found them, bringing a few different options and setting them down next to her before awkwardly standing off to the side.

“Alright, you can try those on Ahiru. We’ll be right back.” Pike says before disappearing into the back of the store with Lilie.

“Do you need help?” Raetsel asks, showing Ahiru where she can sit to unlace her borrowed boots.

“No, thank you, I think I'm alright.” She smiles gratefully at her and sets to work, slipping her feet into one of the pairs Fakir brought her. She carefully tries on each pair but ends up settling on the first, made of dark brown leather with a slight heel and strong black cord lacing them securely.

Lilie returns and writes down the price on a pad of paper tucked into her dress pocket, setting it aside and guiding Ahiru to a fitting room. She helps Ahiru undo the fastenings on her loaned dress, hanging it carefully and instructing her to keep the chemise on before darting out and returning with Pike, both women are carrying armfuls of clothing and Pike has a pincushion strapped to her wrist. They help her into a simple white blouse, pinning where it needs to be taken in. The remaining garments are tried on in the same fashion and Ahiru watches them work. Before she knows it, they are done, helping her back into Raetsel’s loaned dress once more and walking her back to her companions, assuring her that they will return momentarily and asking her to wait while they stitch the adjustments into place. Ahiru seats herself on a bench next to Fakir and Raetsel follows the two shopkeepers to assist them and discuss the items they will be making for pickup at a later date.

“So..that’s the fanclub?” Ahiru guesses.

Fakir looks uncomfortable, “that’s just what Raetsel calls them.”

She giggles, “did you hear what they called you when we walked in?”

He shakes his head, too afraid to ask.

“The handsome Fakir.” Ahiru tells him, stifling another giggle. “Is that your title?” She teases.

He shoots her an irritated glance, “you know that it’s not.”

She shrugs, an impish grin stuck on her face. “It could be.” she states it as if it is a fact and doesn’t seem to catch what she is implying.

Fakir stammers, embarrassed. “W-wha-“ clearing his throat and looking out the window to hide his blush, he scolds her. “You can’t just say things like that!”

She sticks her tongue out at him, “why not? They said it first!”

He shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “They shouldn’t be saying it either.” He groans, wishing he had stayed home.

“Hm. whatever, I still don’t get why it’s such a big deal.” Ahiru bumps her shoulder against his, “are they your friends?”

“I barely know them.” He answers honestly, “they’re the best seamstresses in town so I’ve been a customer but Raetsel is the one that comes here most often.” He looks at her for a second before continuing, “I usually avoid them.”

Ahiru hums, “I think I understand why.” She acknowledges, “they’re a bit like a whirlwind aren’t they?”

He snorts out a laugh, “don't tell them that, they’ll never let it go.”

She nods. “Yeah, that doesn’t really surprise me.”

They fall into a comfortable silence and fakir studies her when she isn’t looking, trying to understand the mystery of this little lake lady.

It doesn't take long for Raetsal to return with a large package wrapped in brown paper and fastened with twine tied in a bow. “That’s it for today, we will return at the end of the week for the rest of it.”

Ahiru moves forward and takes the package despite Raetsel’s protests, “wow! That was so fast!”

Raetsal winks, “6 hands work faster than 2!”

Fakir takes the package from Ahiru while she’s distracted and holds it where she can’t reach when she tries to take it back. “You’ve paid already?” he nervously glances around the store as he says it.

Raetsal laughs. “Yes Fakir, don't worry. Those two are busy in the back, we’re done.”

He relaxes a bit and they make their way out again, Fakir holding the door for both of the women.

Ahiru skips forward, looking down at her new shoes and admiring how comfortable they are. When she looks up again Fakir and Raetsel have already mounted their horses, the package safely secured to the back of Fakir’s saddle.

“Do you need help? Or would you like to try again on your own?” He asks, looking down at her with his brow furrowed in concern.

Ahiru answers by sticking a boot in the stirrup and once again trying to lift herself up. This time she gets closer to her goal, but Fakir still has to catch her when her leg doesn’t properly hold her up.

“Good try!” Raetsal encourages from behind them, smiling as Fakir adjusts their friend with gentle hands before taking up the reins.

They ride home with minimal conversation, the two siblings focused on steering their horses in the right direction and Ahiru distracted by the people out on the streets, going about their days.

When they are home again, Fakir helps her down and retrieves her parcel, leaving no room for her to argue as he carries it inside.

She follows him, Raetsel not far behind. He stops outside the door of her room, waiting for Raetsel to open the door before carefully setting the package on her bed and excusing himself politely.

Raetsel helps her unpack and hang her new clothing, she picks out a new chemise for Ahiru and shows her to a room down the hall where she can bathe. After making sure she knows how to fill the tub, she too excuses herself with the promise that they will see one another at lunch.

—

Once she has dried herself and wrung most of the water from her hair, Ahiru dons the fresh chemise and pads up the hall to her room. The new clothes hang neatly and she has trouble choosing when given so many options but eventually she settles on a short sleeved, collared blouse made from a lovely cream colored cotton and a simple, tea length yellow linen skirt. Plain white socks cover her feet and the boots are left by the door for when she needs them. She sits at the vanity to comb her hair, leaving it down to dry but tying a yellow ribbon under her hair and around the top of her head to keep it from getting in her face. She smiles at her reflection, the clothes fit perfectly and she can finally see herself now that she isn’t drowning in fabric.

She retrieves Raetsel’s loaned dress and chemise and carries them out to the room she was first brought in to. She knocks gently, and when there is no response, she cracks the door open.

“What are you doing?”

She jumps, turning to find Fakir glowering at her. “I-well I was trying to find Raetsel!”

His face softens, “she’s the door at the end of the hall, moron, this is my room.”

Ahiru flushes, indignant, she bites back “I’m not a moron! How was I supposed to know that! I've only been to her room once and it was a really hectic day!”

Fakir puts a hand on her head, “I know, I was teasing. Could you move out of the way?”

She settles down, embarrassed. “Yeah, sorry.” She shuffles off down the hall and he watches her go, shaking his head and entering his room.

Raetsel, having heard the exchange, opens her door before Ahiru can reach it and gives her a kind smile. “You can just set those in the laundry basket over here.”

Ahiru follows her instruction and smiles at her gratefully, “Thank you Raetsel.”

“Anything for you Ahiru, now, would you like to see what’s for lunch?”

Confused, Ahiru tilts her head, “didn't Fakir just go to his room?”

Raetsel nods, “He’s probably referring to one of his cookbooks.”

“He doesn’t keep them in the kitchen?” Ahiru asks, following Raetsel back out into the hall.

“It’s easier to keep them in good condition away from the steam and mess of food.” Fakir answers from his doorway, “Plus, I don't always need them.” He closes his door and leads the way to the kitchen, resuming his work.

Raetsel and Ahiru seat themselves in the same spots as always, chatting and watching Fakir cook. Raetsel asks how she likes her new clothing and Ahiru gushes her thanks and talks about her favorite things.

Fakir comes with plates of food soon after and seats himself next to her.

Ahiru claps in excitement, tucking her long hair towards her back before digging in.

Raetsel eats more politely, complimenting Fakirs choice of ingredients and asking him questions about the recipe.

Ahiru barely pays attention to them, so focused on enjoying her meal that she doesn't notice when the conversation turns to her.

“Ahiru?” Raetsel prods gently.

she starts slightly in response, looking up and finding them both turned to her. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

Raetsel smiles, “Do you know what you want to do here? I work at Ebine’s bakery for part of the week and Fakir writes for our local paper. Pike and Lilie offered to teach you how to cut fabric but you are free to choose what you like.”

Ahiru blinks, “I’m...staying?”

Fakir answers this time, rolling his eyes. “Of course you are, where else would you go stupid?”

Raetsel swats his shoulder, “Oh be nice to her Fakir.” Turning back to Ahiru, “Yes, you are welcome to stay with us as long as you wish dear.”

Ahiru grins, “Thank you! I like it so much here, I’m so happy!” She looks down at her hands, “As for what i want to do.. I’m not really sure yet. Pike and Lilie are very nice but I don’t know if I could really be of any help to them.”

Fakir nods, “You don’t have to decide yet. You haven’t even seen your other options so take your time and don’t feel bad about it.”

Raetsel agrees with him, “I'm sure you will be good at whatever you choose, with passion like yours you can do anything.”

Ahiru flushes and curls into herself, hair falling forward to hide her face.

Fakir watches in horror as a lock of her hair begins to flop into her plate, instinctively he tucks the hair back into place. Once he realizes what he’s done he can feel the steam coming out of his ears, “Y-you should probably tie your hair up when you eat.”

Raetsal barely stifles her laugh, shoving a bite of food into her mouth to keep herself quiet.

Ahiru stares at Fakir, mouth open and cheeks pink. It takes a few more blinks before she twists her knee length hair up and up and up, using the yellow ribbon to loosely tie it into place, it’s the best imitation of a bun she can do with the current materials.

Clearing his throat and drinking water in an effort to cool the flush on his skin, Fakir continues eating as if nothing happened and the two women soon follow his lead.

Ahiru is grateful for the diversion, feeling more shy than usual and needing the silence. She is also easily distracted by how much she loves this food and each bite brings her farther away from the embarrassment.

Soon, the meal is over and they separate, Ahiru washing the dishes without supervision as Raetsel has deemed her able. Fakir puts away anything left over in the kitchen and excuses himself to his room.

When the dishes are cleaned, dried and put away, Ahiru wonders what she’s meant to do, yesterday and this morning there was no time for boredom. Now she feels like she should be doing something and without noticing she has begun to dance, the kitchen floor not ideal for ballet but accommodating her nonetheless. There is no music, but the early afternoon sun shining through the windows above the sink highlights her more beautifully than any spotlight. When she finally realizes what she’s doing, she is in the middle of simple barre exercises. Her muscles ache in relief, as if they have been waiting for her to use them. She smiles, closing her eyes and tilting her head up towards the sun, letting muscle memory take over.

Fakir carries his notebook under one arm and holds his inkwell and quill in his hands. He is headed to the kitchen for a glass of water, but stops when he sees her. Not wanting to interrupt, he sits at the table, partially hidden by the open doorway that connects the two rooms. His things are set down carefully and quietly, and then he turns his attention back to the ballerina in his kitchen.

She moves through her relevés with the ease and joy of someone who lives to dance.

Chin in palm, Fakir watches her. The light flickering over her face moves with her and he is entranced. Warm ups finished, Ahiru moves into a choreography as if it’s second nature. His heart aches in his chest when he realizes it is meant to be a pas de deux, her body struggles to support itself and he longs to take the weight for her.

She continues, oblivious of her audience, dancing to the song only she can hear and baring her emotions with every movement.

When the steps come to a close and her head is bowed in an ending curtsy, Fakir panics, realizing that soon she will open her eyes and he will have to explain why he’s been creepily watching without saying a word. Cringing, he braces himself and opens his notebook, hoping to at least look busy when she catches him.

She lets out a small startled noise when she opens her eyes, coming back into her mind after letting her body take over. She sees Fakir sitting at the table and despite the open notebook, she knows that he has not written a word for she would have heard the scratch of his quill. She flushes prettily, sneaking out of the kitchen while he’s still looking down and all but running to her room.

She leans against the inside of her closed door, putting her head in her hands and trying to calm herself down. She hadn’t planned on dancing and she definitely did not expect an audience, no matter how politely he pretended not to be watching she knew he had seen at least some of her dance and she hopes that she danced well. Most of the remaining afternoon is spent like this, trying to distract herself by thinking over the job offer from Pike and Lilie, but mind wandering back to the kitchen and her dream from the night before. There is a mix of confusing emotions swirling in her chest and she unties the ribbon holding her makeshift bun in place, running her hands through her own hair in a calming fashion. The dream had felt so real and coupled with some of the memories that had come back to her, she has a feeling it was something that had really happened. Brows furrowing as she thinks, she tries desperately to recall the events of her dream but most of what she can remember is emotions and steps of a dance. There is a flash of black curls and red lips kissing a pale figure with hair like the feathers of a swan, but this imagery brings a panging sorrow and the tears rising in her eyes warn her not to push this memory back into her conscious mind. Wiping her cheeks where they have gotten wet, she takes Fakir’s advice and sets to braiding her hair into a crown. It doesn't take her very long, and soon Raetsel is knocking on her door to alert her that supper will be ready soon. Ahiru thanks her and says she will be there in a moment, needing some time to collect herself and finish tying the braids in place around her head.

When she finally comes to the dining table, Fakir and Raetsel are already seated and a plate is waiting in her usual spot. She squeezes by Fakir, who avoids her eyes and looks at his plate with pink dusting the bridge of his nose. Once she is settled, the three begin to eat, they are all tired from the eventful day and conversation is light.

It is a quick meal and Raetsel is the first to bid them goodnight, letting Ahiru know that she will be gone for work by the time they wake and making sure Ahiru does not need anything before she excuses herself.

Ahiru pokes at her remaining food listlessly, wishing she could enjoy it the way she wants to but emotions ruining her appetite. Sighing, she carries the dishes to the sink and begins scrubbing, not even noticing when Fakir follows behind her.

“Ahiru?” Fakir asks quietly, “I hope I didn’t upset you earlier.”

This breaks her reverie and she looks at him, confused. “What? No! Why would I be upset?”

Fakir seems doubtful. “Well you’re obviously upset about something.”

She puffs her cheeks out. “No, i just…” brows furrowed she admits defeat, “Okay yeah you’re right I am. But I promise it has nothing to do with you!” She says the last part earnestly and Fakir is momentarily stunned by the shine of her eyes.

“Do you.. want to talk about it?” He says it awkwardly, as if the idea is foreign to him.

Her eyes dim, “I don’t think I was very happy before I came here.”

He seems surprised at her answer, “Was the lake not good to you?”

This makes her puff a tiny, sad laugh, “The lake may be where I came from, but it wasn’t where I lived before.”

Fakir looks at her concerned, “You don't remember very much, do you?”

She shakes her head, “Most of it is just feelings, there’s something there definitely but trying to recall more than just blurs hurts.”

He feels deeply sorry for her, “It sounds like.. well sometimes our brains try to protect us by blocking some things out.”

She tilts her head to the side, “You think it could be that?”

He nods slowly “There are many written accounts of this experience, if you’d like, I can help you research more about it tomorrow?” He says the last bit as a question, unsure if she really wants to open herself up to possible pain.

She smiles gratefully, it is smaller than her usual grin but still makes his heart skip, “Thank you Fakir, I would like that very much.”

Flushing at her sincerity, he looks away. “D-dont mention it.” He dries the dishes that she is finished washing and together they finish the chore faster than either could on their own. When the dishes are put away and the kitchen is clean, Fakir walks her to her room and bids her goodnight with the promise of a library trip the next day. Ahiru is so exhausted she barely manages to take her hair down and remove her blouse and skirt before crawling into bed and falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.

#princess tutu #ptutu #fakiru #fakir x duck #princess tutu fanfiction #princess tutu fanart #ahiru arima #princess tutu fakir #fairy tale inspired

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rosy-cheekx · 3 years

Text

I Want To Be A Real Fake

@kaiserkorresponds said: Black and White + "I want to be a real fake" + formal clothing <3

Prompted fic that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since I received it! Hope you like it, Kaiser!

Jon would not consider himself fashionable. He has a distinct sense of style, yes, but that style lately has been Tired-Academic-Works-in-a-Cold-Office,-Steals-Sweaters-When-Necessary-core. Not exactly suitable for the business casual dress code The Magnus Institute “requires” (no one seemed to pay attention to the Archive staff’s choices of attire), but certainly not suitable for the small rectangle of cardstock Elias Bouchard hands him, on a quiet spring morning in the Archive.

“What’s…what’s this?” Jon asked, staring at the neat, printed text as if it was Greek. (If it were Greek, at least, he could decipher parts of it. He was an English Lit student, after all, and he had really enjoyed etymology.) The card was a stiff black and white, with the black owl logo, the symbol of the Magnus Institute, printed in the top middle. Glancing down at it, he saw a date, and the words: “black-tie.” Shit.

“My apologies, I forgot how tired your position tends to leave you.” Elias’s voice was prim and polite, but Jon still winced inwardly. “As a head of a department, you are now strongly encouraged to attend the fundraiser I host in April each year. Our donors are fascinated by our departments, and especially the Archives. Gertrude’s disappearance has raised questions as to her successor, and I trust you can assuage the concerns of our donors at your accomplishments in the position.” Jon chose to believe that Elias’s keen eye didn’t sweep the mountains of paperwork that surrounded his desk as he surveyed the small, poorly lit office. “I’m certain you’ll be able to find appropriate attire for the occasion.”

He turned on a heel, halfway to the door before seemingly considering something. “Ah, and Jon, one more thing. Gertrude always requested she bring an assistant. Would you like to do the same? I am happy to accommodate one more for the catering count.”

Jon snapped his mouth shut, utterly dumbfounded by the responsibility just thrust upon him, and nodded mutely, before clearing his throat. “Ah-um, yes, I would appreciate that. Does it matter which one?”

“Someone who can make a pleasant impression, please.” Elias raised an eyebrow, nodded almost imperceptibly, like he had made a decision, and rapped his knuckles on the doorframe on the way out. “I trust your judgement.”

Jon counted to thirty, to be certain Elias wasn’t coming back, and slouched into his office chair, scanning the save-the-date again, without the immense pressure of Elias’s eyes on him.

“The Magnus Institute Fundraiser Gala,” it read below the embossed owl, within a thin black border. “23 April, 7-10 pm. Black tie. Catered.” Jon traced the owl with the pad of his finger, flipping the card over to see, in Elias’s thin cursive: Make a good impression, Jon.

God, this is going to suck.

“Sasha, come on.” Jon wasn’t one to beg, but desperate times and all that. He had cornered her in the breakroom, while Martin was on a research trip and Tim was getting takeaway from the chippie down the street. “It’s only three weeks away, and you’re the one I trust the most. Please.”

“Jon,” Sasha sighed, smoothing her skirt patiently. “I would if I could, I swear to you. But my sister’s wedding has been planned for months, I’ve already requested time off, and I can’t undo all that for a work party.”

“Fundraiser,” Jon corrected instinctively, even as he signed in resignation. “Fine. I just really didn’t want to go alone.”

Sasha scoffed, shaking her head to herself as she opened the fridge and pulled out her bagged lunch. “You have two other assistants you know. What about Tim? Or Martin?”

Jon wrinkled his nose at the thought of bringing nervous, rambling, doe-eyed Martin to the gala. “God no. Martin would be too much; I need someone who can handle themselves and hold a decent conversation. I need someone who can attend a black-tie gala and look more at-home than me.” A withering look from Sasha.

“So why not Tim, then? He can do all those things.”

“Do all what things?” Jon jumped and spun around to see Tim, carrying a grease-spotted bag in one hand and a paper soda cup in the other. He surveyed Tim in a moment: the button-up shirt, red and printed with tiny black balloons, sleeves rolled to the elbows. Sunglasses pushed to the top of his head, dark black hair artfully mussed. High cheekbones dotted with freckles, and what Jon swore could be the faintest bit of eyeliner.

“Tim, would you like to go to a fashionable, catered work party with me?”

“Boss,” Tim lowered himself to a knee and held out his soda solemnly. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“Tim, that’s backwards. The kneeler isn’t the one who accepts,” Sasha chuckles helpfully.

“You’re just jealous of our love, Sash!”

Good Lord.

Jon was really hoping the food would be good. He was in Tim’s flat, in the toilet, checking himself in the mirror one final time. His hair was carefully braided, courtesy of Tim’s deft hands and coiled into a thick bun at the base of his skull, gold and emerald hairpin snugly in place. His suit was nice: a respectable white shirt, dotted with tiny lime-colored flowers he had to strain his eyes to see, under a dark green suit jacket and matching trousers. The suit itself was cut in a rather androgynous style, pulling tight at Jon’s waist in a way he rather liked, and contrasted beautifully, he thought, with the smooth brown of his skin. He flicked an invisible piece of lint from his thigh and, satisfied, stepped into the hall to tell Tim he was ready to go.

“Tim, I’m all-woah,” the exhale was accidental. Tim’s suit was certainly not subtle. He was wearing a deep blue turtleneck, hair perfectly coiffed. Over the turtleneck, the suit jacket was white, a spray of water-color flowers in all shades of blue and purple shifting with every movement. The navy blue heeled suede boots on his feet accentuated his already-tall frame “Tim, you look good,” Jon breathed.

“Ouch. No need to sound all surprised. I know I clean up well; I dirty pretty damn good too.” Tim chuckled and adjusted his sleeves. “You don’t look so bad yourself, Mr. ‘I don’t want anything too crazy.’”

Jon grinned shyly, rocking on his heels of his own, less intimidating dress shoes. “I like it, I think. It feels nice.” The excitement over how good he felt in the clothes had, all too briefly, suppressed the impending doom he was feeling about the evening’s events. “Are you ready for tonight?” he asked for what must have been the fiftieth time, spinning the solid black ring he wore around his finger.

“Yes, Jon. Talk about the reorganization process as a structural renovation, converting files to audio formatting for future accessibility, don’t talk about artefact storage even a little, don’t get caught up with anyone too pretty, I get it.” His voice was flat, bored by the repetition. “This is going to be fine.”

“What-what if it isn’t, though, Tim? What if they ask about Gertrude or how their money is being used, o-or how the restructuring is going? I can’t bloody well tell them I’m using a tape recorder that’s probably older than I am.”

“Jon,” Tim’s well-manicured hand was on his shoulder, nails the same blue of his turtleneck. “Take a deep breath. For Gertrude: be honest. It was a tragedy, and you hope she’s found, but until then you’re doing your best to act on her wishes as her replacement. And for the rest, be vague. Restructuring is going ‘as well as can be expected’ or ‘is running quite smoothly with the help of your three wonderful assistants.’” He winked. “And tell them you’re using a multimedia system, that’ll confuse those old boomers enough to move topics. And it is technically true. Laptops and a tape recorder are multiple medias. Anything else we can riff, you know? I can talk with the best of them.” He eyed Jon meaningfully. “This will be fine. It’s one night. And we’ll get chips after. Promise.”

Jon nodded and closed his eyes, breathing steadying. He was grateful Tim had been available. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

“So, how did you know what black tie meant?” Jon asked, eyeing Tim across the seat of the cab. They’re on their way now and Jon’s hands are steepled tightly, pressing his fingertips against each other until it hurts to do so. “I had to Google it last week when I went shopping, in case we had to wear literal black ties.” He needed to talk about anything, anything but this stupid fundraiser they drove steadily towards.

Tim grew silent for a moment, considering his words. “My brother was an extra in a movie once and started dating a stylist for one of the leads. He fibbed his way into getting us tickets for premieres, so I’ve made my way through a few high-fashion events.” He shrugged, fiddling with a thin silver bracelet along his wrist, were Jon knew the letter D was carved in delicate cursive. “I like it, too, you know? Dressing up for events. It makes me feel debonaire, like a spy.”

Jon shook his head in disagreement. “Makes me feel fake,” he mumbled, eyeing the lorry floor beneath them. “Like everyone knows I don’t belong. I hate having their eyes on me and knowing they’re better than me.”

Tim prodded Jon with his elbow gently, raising his eyebrows in a comforting manner. “That’s it though, isn’t it? We aren’t fake. We worked our way here. Hell, you’re the boss of an entire department, Jon. We’ve gotten to where we are in the Institute because we deserve to be here. And anyways, everyone at that party next week is gonna be fake. They’re pretending to care about our jobs, and we pretend to care about their money, and they pretend they’re even the ones who write the checks and not some snooty financial advisor in Wales.”

Jon shrugged, trying to keep himself from biting back that he wasn’t enough, didn’t earn this spot, that Sasha deserved it more than he did and was doing nothing to prove to Elias he was up to the monumental task of being the Head Archivist. He didn’t, though, and instead took a steadying breath, nodding to Tim’s comforting words.

“And anyways,” Tim continued, shrugging. “Even if we have to be fake for a night, it’ll be fun. We get to be a part of ‘the queen’s high society,’” he added in a high-pitched, overly fake RP accent, eliciting a chuckle from Jon. “And Rosie said the catering Elias orders is divine. Apparently we should keep an eye out for tiny samosas?”

As if on cue, the cab shuddered to a stop. Jon thanked the driver, paid, and followed Tim out.

The Institute looked different under the pretense of wealth and success. It was still the same building of course, but the floor was clear of the rain mats and the smooth marble floor paved the way to the library, the main sitting room of which had been cleared as a rather respectable grand hall to host a party. Tables lined the cordoned off books, hot plates and silver trays steaming slightly. Bottles of wine lined a bar, behind which a vested individual with slicked-back hair was pouring small glasses and taking orders. A quiet orchestra completed the scene, cello and piano in a delicate duet. Before tonight, Jon couldn’t have imagined this many people in the Institute alone, least of all the library. Not that it’s packed. There’s maybe thirty or so well-dressed individuals milling about, the din of conversation white noise in comparison to the floating of the music.

Tim’s hand is on his back, pressing kindly into his spine. Oh yes, he remembers dimly, and nods, allowing Tim to guide him into the library and hand him a glass of wine. They stand out a little, two beacons of color around what is a pretty drab spectrum of black and grey, save for a few spectacular dresses in the crowd. Jon finds he doesn’t mind it, except that it may lead to unwanted conversation. It’s not his looks he fears being judged on, but that he be found wanting when it came to his capabilities. He was always selectively self-conscious like that, some things utterly meaningless, others inexplicably important.

Jon isn’t a huge fan of wine, but he finds himself clinging to the glass as a lifeline as he and Tim meander through the crowds, largely ignored. The music is intoxicatingly simple; he finds himself caught up in the deep reverberations of the cello as they walk, feeling it deep in his chest. There were, in fact, samosas, as well as small cannoli, and he and Tim piled plates as high as they could without garnering stares.

There weren’t many people Jon recognized; he didn’t even see Elias as he scanned the crowd for faces. Wine in one hand, a plate in the other, he thought maybe the night wouldn’t be too bad.

Jon shivered, the sensation of being stared at prickling the back of his neck. He spun around, trying to appear casual, and spotted Elias at last. He was standing with a large man, broad and wearing a deep blue suit, scruffy beard a mix of tawny and white. Elias crooked his finger, smiling primly. As Jon made his way over to the pair-who he could’ve sworn he hadn’t seen previously, he was intercepted by a short bald man in a plum velour suit, leaning heavily on a cane.

“Ah, Archivist,” he smiled warmly, extending a hand to shake before seeing Jon’s hands were full, and nodding his head instead. “Congratulations on your promotion. Elias has told me he expects great things from you.”

Jon smiled politely, glancing over to see Elias and the other man gone again. Regretfully, he turned his attention back to the man. “It’s a shame about Gertrude, yes, but I’m hoping I can do her proud,” he said in a practiced tone. He glanced over his shoulder. Where was Tim? He was just with him.

“Of course, of course. I was hoping I could have a word?”

“W-with me?”

“Yes, you see, I was rather concerned when I heard Gertrude’s position had been left open. When Elias said you yourself where at the junction to take over, I wanted to meet you for myself. I worry about the Archivists in your institute, so many of you do such monumental work for so little recognition. Do you worry your work to be meaningless? Your name insignificant when it is all said and done?”

(It is this conversation he remembers, months later, when he demands to record Prentiss’ attack. He refuses to be another mystery, a name on a placard to be wondered about.)

“I-ah, yes? No?” What was the right answer here? Jon stammered out a half-assed reply about doing his best, midway through when he felt a hand firmly on his shoulder, where his neck and collarbone met. Glancing to his peripheral, he saw a golden ring, an eye, and was frustratingly grateful to hear the cool tones of Elias Bouchard over his shoulder.

“Now Simon,” he said, voice even, “you aren’t trying to scare my dear Archivist, are you?” He gave the shoulder a squeeze but remained put. “Jon, I believe you’ve heard of Simon Fairchild, a significant donor to our establishment.”

Jon nodded wordlessly, not really listening to the two bureaucrats delve off into some topic or other, craning his neck to look for Tim. The music had picked up, he registered dimly, a orchestral melody led by a violin, sharp and whimsical.

“Jon?” Another squeeze to his neck, and Jon tried not to wince. “Wouldn’t you agree,” Elias asked, voice patient at surface level. “That the best way to move forward is to restructure the Archive?”

Jon nodded, trying to recall the answer he had rehearsed. “Yes, ah—my team and I have worked quite hard at recording the statements a-and organizing them in a way that will last long-term.”

“Ah, what a delight,” Simon—Mr. Fairchild—said warmly. Jon was reminded of the voices adults would use when they spoke to him as a child, when his inane facts about space or etymology had moved from endearing to obnoxious.

The conversation lasted for what felt like days, Jon feeling rather like Mr. Fairchild’s cane: a statement piece, contributing nothing to the conversation but unable to find a smooth exit. Leading questions from Elias led to thankfully rehearsed answers before Simon found his own exit and walked away smoothly, eyes wide and taking the room in.

“I-I really should find Tim,” Jon muttered, glancing around the room anxiously.

“Nonsense. He’ll be back,” Elias said, releasing Jon’s shoulder and taking his elbow in turn, “I would like to introduce you to a few dear friends of mine. I believe Tim is keeping one occupied at present.” Jon sighed inwardly (and maybe outwardly as well) and allowed himself to be led around the room. His wine glass was empty, as was his plate and he found it snatched away by a member of catering. He had nothing to cling to, to keep his hands busy, and was struggling not to pull out his delicately-placed hair pin just so he could fiddle with something.

Jon was taken on a tour of old rich people of England. Names flew past him, conversation buzzed around him, and still Jon felt like nothing more than a well-dressed trophy to be ogled at. Did Gertrude do this every year, he wondered dimly. No wonder she disappeared. He fiddled with the ring on his finger, nodding and smiling at the appropriate times, speaking when needed, and feeling the swirl of the orchestra build up in pressure behind his eyes. The music was beautiful but hard to listen to. Something about it was ugly, hiding a dark secret behind the innocent melodies.

Eventually, the evening was so much of a blur that he couldn’t even begin to fathom how much time had passed. It may have been weeks, may have been merely twenty minutes. Jon glanced down for his watch before realizing he had taken it off at Tim’s flat and never strapped it back on. Pity. It only added to the dreamscape reality he seemed to be participating in.

At last, Elias led him towards the large burly man that was suddenly in view (hadn’t he always been? Jon wasn’t quite sure. The wine must have affected him more than he thought with the nerves) and Jon saw Tim, similarly trapped in conversation as he had been. He smiled apologetically as Jon and Elias approached and the larger man smiled warmly at the newcomers.

“Ah, Archivist. I hope you don’t mind I stole your companion away briefly. I was curious about the nitty-gritty of your Archive. Timothy here was very informative.” Tim winced at the use of his full name and a part of Jon smirked, relating to the sentiment of being called Jonathan or worse, John.

“I’m glad he can answer your questions.” Elias spoke before Jon could open his mouth. “I’m quite proud of the Archive staff. Jon chose well and I am sure the four of them are going to do great things together. Jon, you remember the Lukas family?”

Jon nodded, confused for a second before the man in front of him extended his hand. “Peter Lukas, at your service.” The hand was cold, and a feeling of dismay washed over Jon as he shook it. He couldn’t help the feeling that the shake of that hand was a seal of his fate.

The orchestral music had picked up, a swirl of strings and piano, ascending in pitch until it grated at Jon’s ears. No one else seemed to react to it, however, as the manic notes pulling at something inside Jon’s brain, something he couldn’t explain. It was almost like a migraine, but sharper and deep in his spine and in his ears. Elias let go of Jon’s arm at some point during the conversation with Peter Lukas, a discussion about boats, maybe? Travel? This was the conversation Elias was so keen on Jon being a part of?

As Jon felt that grip relax, the glint of the ring on Elias’ finger seeming to wink at him, Jon took a staggered step backwards. “Mr. Lukas, ah-Peter, it’s been a pleasure. Elias, ex-excuse me.”

Jon turned and dashed out of the library, feet carrying him on instinct through the winding halls and down the stairs of the institute, deep into the Archives. He stopped when he felt his feet echo against the cold, solid lino of the archival storage and bent over, hand on the wall, gasping in shallow, rapid bursts. It was too much, it was too much, he thought he could do this but it was too much and he wasn’t enough for them-

“Woah-boss.” Tim was there. When did Tim get here? Was he speaking out loud? Shit. “Jon, yeah-hey, Jon. I’m here. You’re okay. Take some deep breaths, okay? You’re going to black out if you’re not careful.”

Jon felt his suit jacket being shrugged off of him and the newly allowed freedom of his shoulder helped. He took a deep, sputtering breath, the sweet oxygen flooding his system and sharpening his thoughts.

“The-the music and the talking,” he said under his breath, Tim craning to listen without infringing on his personal space. “Too-too much.”

“The music? Jon, hey, hey, just focus on calming down, okay? That was a dick move of Elias to separate us immediately. I was talking to that Lukas guy for way too long. Not even sure what we talked about. I think he’s just one of those guys.” Jon smirked to himself as he focused on the floor beneath his feet, breathing slowly until his heart rate had resumed a normal rhythm.

“Says you,” he mumbled, eyes closing as he pressed his warm cheek to the cold wall.

“You bastard!” Jon felt a light swat on his shoulder. “I listen to people! I have meaningful conversation; just ask Martin and Sasha and Alexa from Library and Calvin from Artefact Storage. I am practically a professional listener.”

Jon smirked, satisfied with his jab and turned around, now pressing his back to the wall. “God, Tim, I do not want to go back in there.” It was hard to admit out loud, even if the evidence was written all over his face.

“Okay. So, we won’t.”

“What?” the answer was so mind-bogglingly simple, Jon reeled.

“We don’t want to be here. We’ve talked, we’ve eaten. Let’s just leave. I can tell Elias I had an emergency and you had to escort me home, like a true gentleman.”

“Lie to Elias? I feel like that cant end well.” The offer was tempting, Jon hadf to admit.

“I mean, Sasha has keys to my flat. I could ask her to start a fire, if you think that’s sufficient?”

Jon barked out a laugh at that. “Ah, no, lets save a fire for something big. Yes. Let’s-let’s go, Tim. And-er, I suppose I should thank you. For coming tonight. I know its not an ideal way to spend an evening.”

“Are you kidding?” Tim did a twirl, Jon’s own jacket slung over his shoulder. “I look hot. You think I’d pass up an opportunity to dress up like this? You’re dreaming.” He smirked and took Jon’s arm, leading him back up the stairwell. It felt different than Elias’s touch. That had been a cold tug, directional and leashed. This felt…snug, more like a link in a chain than anything else. Comforting, reassuring.

(Luckily, they weren’t laughed out of the Nando’s they popped into late at night. Lemon and herb and spices covered their hands, but they were careful to keep their jackets clean. Jon, when looking back on the evening; remembers this moment, talking and laughing and letting the fresh night air was over them. Elias, Lukas, and Fairchild be damned. He’d deal with that tomorrow.)

#the magnus archives #tma #tma fanfic #fanfic to a tea #jonathan sims #tim stoker #prompt fic #black-tie #elias bouchard #still a dick #peter lukas #simon fairchild #sasha james #me? write everyone BUT martin>#amazing

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raibebe · 4 years

Text

Soft core

Genre: Fluff(?) Words: 11,4 k holy shit this is insane Prompt: Jaehyun in his vampire bdsm outfit he wore in the Punch era but make it sfw Warnings: mentions of blood, brief mentions of member x member relationships, brief descriptions of a panic attack

A/N: This was written for Aimee who loves Jaehyun with her whole heart, happy birthday Aimee 💖 I hope you had an amazing day and like this little something. I know you deactivated but I already started writing this a month ago and I’ll post it anyways in the hope you’ll see this someday and a couple of others will enjoy this as well. I have mixed and matched their outfits and tattoos from both the concept photos and the live stages. Also I’m sorry Johnny, but you fit the role of the shameless flirt so well… Bonus points for anyone who spots all cameos. Special thanks to @burtonized who made me keep going with this and listened to all my complaints.

To say you were nervous before starting your first shift at your new job in a reasonably shady bar not too far from your apartment was an understatement. You seriously questioned your own sanity and why you had even applied for the job when you had seen the offer on the beat up wooden entrance door next to an old motorcycle license plate and a bright green neon sign that illuminated the word ‘open’ a couple of days ago. The blue haired man behind the bar had given you a questioning look after you had entered the bar because you couldn’t have looked any more out of place with your soft sweater between the old wooden interior and the leather the barman and a handful of customers were wearing. It had cost all of your courage and a reminder that you needed to find a job for the weekends to walk up to the bar to ask the barman about the job offer. He had asked you a couple of questions like whether you had already waited tables before, which you had (at a place that was lit far better than this one but how different would it be?). The man who had introduced himself as Kun and honestly seemed like a big softie on the inside despite his serious look (it had to be the intense eyebrows) had agreed to hire you on the spot because he had the offer up for a while and no one had come in to ask about it and he couldn’t keep bullying his apparently very chaotic roommates to keep covering the shifts on the busy weekends anymore.

That’s how you found yourself here, a couple of days later on a Friday night, staring at the wooden door yet again (now missing the job offer and not yet illuminated by the neon sign).You took a deep breath and pushed through the door of the bar, this time not looking as out of place as you had before, wearing black skinny jeans and a simple grey v-neck. Kun looked up from where he was wiping down the counter, shooting you a smile. Today he had styled his hair up, exposing his forehead and was wearing a black button up shirt with a bunch of white details that was missing quiet some buttons at the top. “You actually came,” he grinned, “You can put your jacket and bag into the back room.” He pointed to a door with the label ‘staff only’. “We’re opening in half an hour. I’ll introduce you to the others once they decide to arrive.” Nodding you rushed to put your stuff away. You were pleasantly surprised by how clean it was in the back. The beat up interior from the main room was nowhere to be found. So it really didn’t seem too bad if it was only shabby for aesthetic purposes.

After taking a couple of more deep breaths in front of the mirror in the staff room, you felt as prepared as you would ever be and emerged back into the main room of the bar. Next to Kun behind the counter was now another man, clad in the tightest pair of leather pants you had ever seen and a loose, see through black blouse, his long blonde hair tied back into a ponytail, showing off a variety of piercings in his ears that were reflecting the low light of the neon signs. When both men noticed you, the blonde flashed you a bright smile and quickly wiped his fingers on the towel he had used to dry some glasses and held it out for you to shake. “Hi, I’m Ten. Kun told me he had finally found someone willing to help us out on the weekends but he missed to tell me how cute you are. Don’t worry the customers are all nice and if anyone gives you any problems, weird stares or makes inappropriate comments, just tell me immediately and I’ll throw them out,” he introduced himself. You couldn’t help but giggle a bit at the image of this petite man throwing drunken men twice his size out of the bar. “Thank you,” you answered before introducing yourself as well. “Would you please wipe down the tables in the back?” Kun asked, handing you a cloth, “The other waiter should be here any minute, so he can walk you through the process.” “You’re all males working here?” You asked shyly while starting to wipe the tall round tables closest to the bar. “Honey, there’s not many woman brave enough to even set a foot in here even though about eighty percent of our regulars and hundred percent of our staff are big softies hiding behind leather jackets and tattoos,” Ten chirped, disappearing beneath the counter to check the tubes of the beer taps.

Speaking of the other staff, as if on queue the door slammed open to reveal a ridiculously tall man with the biggest brown eyes you had ever seen, his platinum hair swept back from his forehead, a huge grin plastered on his face. “Yooo, the poster with the job offer is gone, did you finally find someone?” The man all but shouted, excitedly bouncing up and down on his way to the bar, shucking off his leather jacket and carelessly throwing it on one of the bar stools to reveal toned arms and a strong chest straining his short sleeved black shirt. “Xuxi, indoor voice please,” Kun groaned, massaging his temples. “Oh sorry,” the other man - Xuxi - answered, flashing Kun big puppy eyes. “We did find someone, please don’t scare her off,” Ten answered Xuxi’s initial question, emerging back from under the counter, smashing the door shut, which caused Kun to groan again. “That thing has a handle for a reason,” he sighed. “It keeps opening itself back up otherwise,” the smaller man shrugged, leaning against the now spotless counter, a mischievous smile on his lips. “Wait, her?” Xuxi asked, eyes wide in either excitement or amazement, “As in she? A girl?” “Yes, hello,” you quietly introduced yourself, stepping out from the corner where you had been cleaning the tabletops.

“Wow, you’re so pretty,” Xuxi said instead of a proper introduction when you walked over to where the three men were standing. You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks, tinting them a rosy color. Sighing, Kun took the dirty cloth from you and rinsed it in the sink. “This is Xuxi, the other waiter for tonight. As you might have noticed he doesn’t have much of a filter, but i swear he is harmless.” “Just call me Lucas at work, it’s easier,” the man in question grinned, not even bothering to correct Kun and extended a hand for you to shake (needless to say because he was unnecessary tall, his huge hand could almost cover your whole fist). “I’ll teach you everything you need to know,” he beamed and even though he had just called you cute, he was definitely the cutest person currently in this room. “Thank you,” you murmured, a smile spreading on your lips because Xuxi’s grin was really infectious and you felt your anxiety disappearing.

In the remaining time before the bar would officially open, Xuxi taught you everything you needed to know. From their system and how you’d take the orders and which tables you would serve to special drinks that weren’t on the menu and what to do if any customers would give you trouble. “There’s probably not much to do for the first two hours or so”, Xuxi concluded, running a hand through his platinum blonde hair, making his muscles dance beneath his shirt, “Like that you can get used to it before it gets packed. Fridays are always busy and there’s a bunch of different people coming. Did any regulars call in before?” He asked the last question to the general direction of the bar. Flipping through a book next to the cash register, Ten nodded. “127 are coming in, they got that big table in the back but other than that, no one called.” “What’s 127?” You asked curiously because that was one of the tables you were supposed to serve. “They’re a group of guys our age, but I’m not really sure what exactly they are to be honest,” Xuxi laughed while fixing the belt that held his wallet before handing you your own one. “I think they are bikers,” Ten supplied, turning around to reorganizing the bottles behind the bar for the third time tonight, “At least some of them have bikes and they sure look the part. Have you seen Johnny’s new tattoo the other week, Xuxi? That must have hurt like hell.” “Yeah, I saw the post with his chestpiece on his Instagram. That man is ripped.” “Well, you’re one to talk,” you murmured under your breath, organizing the contents of the belt to your liking. Laughing out loud, Ten slapped Kun on the chest. “We need to keep her, I like her,” he giggled and Kun just shot you a slightly pained smile, rubbing where Ten’s hand had come down. “Oh come on, old man. I didn’t even hit that hard.” “Stop calling me old, I am literally just two months older than you,” Kun groaned, softly shaking a grinning Ten. Unbothered by the bickering of the two barmen, Xuxi called over from the door: “I’ll switch on the sign!”

Your anxiety came back at full force when the bar started to fill up one hour after it opened. Resisting the urge to hide behind the bar, you approached yet another group of shady looking men to take their orders. Like the other people you had served before, they gave you a weird look while looking up and down your frame once before asking if you were new here. You just nodded and smiled politely while writing down their orders before walking back to the bar where you took out one of the trays and put the note with the order on top so Ten or Kun could put the according drinks on top. “Here, have a little drink, the night is just beginning,” Ten grinned and pushed a glass into your hands before completing the order while somehow also dancing fluently to the music that was playing through the speakers now. You eyed the drink suspiciously, the deep orange color throwing you off a bit. “It’s not spiked, no need to worry,” Xuxi told you, suddenly appearing next to you, placing his own tray with empty glasses onto the counter, winking teasingly before grabbing a colorful bottle to pour a bunch of shots, so Ten and Kun could focus on the other, more complicated drinks on the orders. You drowned the sickly sweet drink quickly and put the glass next to the ones that needed to be rinsed. You mouthed Ten a ‘thank you’ when you picked up your order and he blew you an exaggerated kiss, making you giggle and feel a little more at ease. It was like he had known you were being nervous again.

After checking in with your other tables and earning a big tip from some truckers that actually had been really nice, you made your way back to the bar to help Kun with rinsing the glasses that had been piling up. “You remember those regulars that were coming in tonight?” the blue haired barman suddenly asked, “That’s them.” He nodded towards the door where a group of men were coming in. For a moment, your breath got caught in your throat because Ten hadn’t been wrong earlier when he said that those 127 guys looked like bikers. Honestly anyone of them could have been a model for the leather clothes they were wearing while standing in front of a Harley Davidson or thrashing something with a baseball bat. (Also was one of them wearing a metal harness beneath his leather vest?) “They’re all nice people, no need to worry,” Kun calmed you down, shooting you a reassuring smile before taking the beer glass from your hands that you had started to grip so hard, your knuckles were turning white. “How many are they?” You asked him curiously while eyeing the group as they made their way over to their designated table, greeting other regulars as well as Lucas (one of them was apparently just as incapable of having an indoor voice as him when he loudly yelled ‘Lucas’ before hugging the taller male tightly).

“Yooo, Johnny’s chestpiece looks even more sick in real life,” Lucas said with wide eyes when he came back to the bar. “Also he gave me 20 dollar so I would ask Haechan and Mark if they were even legal when they would order something alcoholic,” he grinned, “I’ll share if you do it.” “How am I supposed to know who to ask?” You asked because even though you were shy, 20 dollars were 20 dollars. “That’s the spirit,” Lucas grinned and threw an arm around your shoulders to turn you in the direction of the table where the men had sat down, not even trying to be subtle about it. “You see the one with the purple hair sitting next to the tall one with half his chest exposed? The purple haired one is Haechan and the tall one is Johnny. Mark is the one on the stool to the left, just ask Haechan for his age first, Mark will be the one to laugh the loudest,” he quickly explained. “You know them quite well,” you said, trying to fight the heat spreading across your cheeks because it didn’t happen any day that you were in such a close proximity to a handsome man like Lucas. “I went to school with Mark,” he shrugged, letting you go when Kun yelled that his order was ready.

Before walking up to their table you took another deep breath to calm your furiously beating heart, repeating in your head how no one had been mean to you yet and that all your coworkers kept on telling you how nice they were supposed to be. “Hi everyone,” you greeted them when you arrived at the table, “Have you already decided what you want to order?” Seeing the chaos that the group was already in, half of them probably didn’t even notice that you had arrived at the table. “Guys!” The pink haired man wearing the harness type thing scolded the others that were bickering in the back of the little booth on the couch. “I’m sorry, they usually behave better,” he smiled and his big eyes combined with his pink hair made him look like he came straight out of an animation. “I’m Taeyong by the way,” the pink haired man supplied, flashing you a genuine smile, “You’re new here, right? I haven’t seen you around before.” “Today is my first day,” you nodded, cheeks heating up under the gaze of the handsome man, nervously playing with your little notepad. “Let’s order, guys!” Taeyong said, the others slowly turning their attention towards you. How all of them were this handsome was beyond your imagination. Shyly you introduced yourself as their waiter for the night for the second time and asked for their orders. One after the other they either ordered plain beer or some really extraordinary cocktails that you had never heard of before. When the purple haired boy, Haechan, ordered his cocktail, you took a deep breath before putting on your best poker face. “Could I see your ID to check your age first?”

As soon as the words had left your lips, the whole table fell dead silent and the boy’s mouth dropped open in surprise. But before you could lose your courage to mutter an apology, the boy that had greeted Lucas loudly before, burst out in laughter, that the others minus Haechan quickly joined and even you couldn’t hold back the grin that spread over your face. “Now that I think about it, could I see yours as well?” You followed up and asked the dark haired boy with the infectious laugh, whose eyes immediately turned into saucers, his mouth wide open while the others couldn’t hold their laughs anymore, the purple haired boy joining in now. “I’m sorry,” you giggled, turning to the last man to order when they all had calmed down, using the napkins on the table to exaggeratedly wipe their tears. “What can I get you?” When the man with the dark hair that was elegantly swept back from his face turned towards you, you could swear that time stilled for a moment. His dark eyes that were accentuated with a bit of eyeshadow fixed yours and you were captivated, unable to look away. When your eyes dipped lower for a second you could see the black ink of a tattoo on the pale skin of his neck. He seemed familiar but you couldn’t quite tell why. Maybe you had seen him around on campus. But even then you should have been able to tell because that tattoo really wasn’t subtle at all. Briefly you were wondering if he could ever work a normal job with something like that. “I think I’ll just start with a beer as well,” he spoke softly, his voice a deep rumble, tearing you from your thoughts. After you had definitely stared at him for way too long than it would have been acceptable, you tore your gaze away from him, quickly scribbling down his order as well, repeating what you had written down for the others to confirm.

“Great, then I’ll be back in a bit with your drinks,” you smiled, after one of them had insisted that they should get a round of shots as well. “Can’t wait,” the tall one with the eagle tattoo on his chest said with a smirk on his lips, adding a cheesy wink that made you way more flustered than you would have liked. You quickly turned to hide your heated face, speed walking back over to the bar to put their order down. “Did you do it?” Lucas eagerly asked, bouncing up and down in excitement where he was helping to dry some glasses behind the counter. “Where’s my money?” You grinned, holding out your palm towards him. “Waaa, you really did it,” he grinned while bouncing up and down excitedly and you could barely hold in the urge to coo at him. He really did resemble an oversized puppy. You barely knew him for more than a couple of hours but he already had wiggled his way into your heart.

“Lucas, you didn’t tell us such a pretty girl would be serving us tonight,” a smooth male voice suddenly interrupted. When you turned around, the tall man from the 127 gang (Were they a gang? Did they do illegal stuff?) came walking up to the counter, leaning against the polished wood. “She’s new here, I didn’t know either,” Lucas pouted, already grabbing two shot glasses to put up on the bar top, putting the third one back down when you shook your head. You weren’t going to drink on your first day of work even though it seemed to be normal when you watched Lucas fill up the two glasses with a shady looking liquid from an unlabeled bottle he had grabbed from below the counter. Clinking their glasses together both men drowned their shots and while the tall biker didn’t even flinch, Lucas broke out into a whole body shiver, squeezing his eyes shut. “This stuff is really fucking disgusting,” he grimaced before refilling one of the shot glasses again, shoving it in front of the other man again, “I don’t know how Ten manages to make these concoctions.” Grinning, the man in question suddenly appeared and snatched the shot glass from below the other‘s fingers, drowning it himself. The blonde only grimaced a little. “I gotta say, I’ve made better stuff but also definitely worse. Lucas, we need a new keg of beer, can you please get one from the back, you’re so much stronger than I am,” Ten pouted, batting his lashes at Lucas and rubbing one of his hands over the other’s muscled arms. “Be nice to her,” Lucas told the man with the big tattoo on his chest and quickly disappeared to the back.

“I’m Johnny by the way,” he introduced himself, running a hand through his dark red hair. “So you’re the one who asked Lucas to embarrass your friends,” you remembered, your eyes getting caught on the intricate feathers of the eagle that spread its wings over Johnny’s broad chest. He smirked when your eyes came back up to meet his. “That would be me. You like the tattoo?” “It looks nice,” you mumbled, embarrassed at being caught staring, “It’s not something you see every day.” “I have some other ones that are pretty interesting as well,” he winked. “Su-Sure,” you stuttered, feeling your face heat up for what must have been the millionth time this night. “You’re cute,” Johnny laughed, the sound bright and inviting, his eyes turning into little crescents. “What did you come over for? Did I miss something on the order?” You tried to move the conversation in a direction you were a little (a lot) more comfortable with. “I just thought I could put my muscles to use and help you carry our drinks, we ordered quite a lot. Also I still owe you money for pulling that prank on Mark and Haechan. Even though their faces were priceless.” “How old are they anyways?” You asked him because you didn’t actually ended up looking at their IDs and Haechan especially did seem quite young. Digging out his worn out wallet, Johnny fished out a twenty dollar bill and teasingly held it up between two fingers. “They’re both of age, don’t worry, they just have baby faces.”

Snatching the bill from his hands, you quickly stuffed it in your pocket. “Thank you,” you grinned, relieved that it really had just been a prank between friends. “How old are you then?” You heard yourself asking after you had glanced at the tray that Ten had been filling up, but a couple of glasses were still missing. The weird cocktails seemed to take quite some time to make (Why there was celery swimming in what looked like tomato juice was a mystery to you). “Let’s pretend I’m in my early twenties,” Johnny grinned, his long fingers playing with the cherries that were stuck to the rim of one of the cocktail glasses. “Pretend?” You were confused. He couldn’t be much older than you were. “It’s improper for old men like me to flirt with such pretty young girls after all,” he winked and stuck out his tongue. “You… You can’t be much older than me though,” you argued, trying to fight your shyness back down. But your furiously beating heart was betraying you. Luckily he couldn’t notice that from his place where he was still leaning against the counter, the long line of his body perfectly shown off; his legs seemed almost endlessly long in the heavy leather pants. Chuckling, he raked his eyes across your body in a similar way you must have seconds ago but you felt like you were burning up wherever he was looking. Within the blink of an eye he was in your personal space, crowding you against the bar. “I’m 25,” he breathed, “How long do you have to work today, honey?”

Before you could even think of an answer, Johnny was shoved backwards by another man dressed completely in black. You recognized him as one of the men from Johnny’s gang, the one with the neck tattoo that had seemed weirdly familiar to you. “Leave her alone, Johnny,” he drawled, his voice barely more than a growl, “There’s someone waiting for you outside.” After a moment of heavy eye contact between the two males, Johnny scoffed and threw you another smile. “See you later, darling,” he chirped before turning towards the exit. “I’m sorry if he made you uncomfortable, he doesn’t know when to stop sometimes,” the handsome man spoke, his voice still deep but way less threatening. “It’s… It’s fine you wouldn’t have needed to step in like that,” you reassured him, “But thank you.” “Yeah, I don’t know, something just didn’t sit right with me when he crowded you like that. Especially when you’re new to this type of environment, it’s pretty different from your usual job.” “My usual job?” You asked, clearly confused, “Do we know each other?” “Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you had recognized me,” the man’s eyes widened in surprise and he averted his gaze as if he was embarrassed. “I’m Jaehyun. You know, the dude who keeps killing his plants.” Now it was your turn to be surprised. “No way. You look so different.” “It’s the clothes, right?” Jaehyun was rubbing the intricate lines of ink on his neck, looking up from between his dark lashes, smiling shyly and now that his dimples were almost showing, you did finally recognize him.

He was somewhat of a regular customer at the flower shop you worked in during the week to help out the old lady who owned the shop, always coming in to buy new plants when he had managed to kill yet another one. Now in the heavy leather jacket with more buckles and straps than you could count, he looked so different than when he came to the shop, his dark hair fluffy so his bangs almost covered his eyes and wearing soft sweaters and jeans. You also somehow had never noticed the big tattoo that stretched around his neck.

You could remember the first time he came into the shop very vividly. It was just after your break that you had spent lazing around in the backyard of the shop in front of the little greenhouse, letting the sun shine onto your face, just basking in the moment for a bit, letting all your worries about money or upcoming exams melt away. The job at the little flower job didn’t pay very well because people these days bought less and less flowers and the old lady couldn’t afford to pay more but you couldn’t just leave her alone in the shop. You really enjoyed her presence and learning about the language of flowers and how to bind pretty bouquets. When the distant chirping of the old cuckoo clock in the shop announced the end of your break, you got up from your place and put your apron back on, so you wouldn’t accidentally dirty your clothes. You came back into the shop just in time to see the big load of new plants that was being delivered. Two boys were unloading a colorful truck while continuously bickering in what seemed to be Chinese about where to put the plants in the shop and on the sidewalk outside so people could still walk past. “Urgh, this sucks why did we let us get talked into helping out?” The one with green hair sighed after they had put the last plant down, handing the old lady the papers she had to sign that the shipment had arrived at her place. She chuckled while handing the papers back. “I’ve made some iced tea, have a little break, boys,” she smiled her kind, wrinkled smile at them, taking them to the little kitchen area in the back to pour each one of them a glass even though the smaller of them had declined her offer at least ten times while his green haired friend gladly took her invitation.

Smiling you reassured the old lady that you would rearrange the flowers and plants so you could fit them all into the shop and the small greenhouse in the back. Maybe her grandson would come in later to help you move the heavier plants. He always came to the shop to laze around without having his parents scold him and his grandmother could never say no to his charming smile that made any girl his age swoon. He had recently dyed his hair a soft pinkish shade and had been hanging around the shop a lot more because his parents weren’t quite fond of his style choices. You gently stroked the leaves of the little pink rose bushes (that had kind of reminded you of the boy in the first place) that seemed rather thirsty to you, making a mental note to water them lots after you had arranged them.

While rearranging the cut roses so you could fit the new bushes in between them, the little bell on the door rang, announcing the arrival of a customer. “I’ll be right over,” you said, detangling yourself from the bush you had tried to fit in the display window. “No need to hurry,” the customer answered with a deep voice. It wasn’t often that men visited your store. And most times they just wanted a quick, expensive looking bouquet to either impress a girl or to apologize to their wife. Putting on your best customer friendly smile, you walked over to where the man was eyeing some cherry tree bonsais, his broad back turned towards you. “How can I help you?” When the man turned around, he immediately politely smiled at you, making your heart beat pick up just a little. He was definitely attractive, you couldn’t deny that. His dark hair was unstyled and hung into his eyes a bit, covering his strong eyebrows that every girl would be envious over. He seemed young, about your age. The pale blue hoodie and the fluffy hair made him seem very soft and gentle despite his strong jawline and prominent cheekbones. “Well I’ve moved into a new space and it looks a little empty, so I thought some plants might be the way to fix that,” he explained, fiddling with the hem of his slightly oversized hoodie. “That’s a great idea,” you beamed, trying to seem reassuring since he seemed rather nervous, “Do you have anything special in mind?” “No, I really don’t but those roses you just put in the display window look very pretty, it’s what made me come in,” he said, motioning to where you had been fighting with the roses earlier. “Roses need a lot of attention though,” you warned him, walking over to where you had tucked the little bushes into a corner. “I have a lot of time and like a good challenge,” he answered, a grin tugging at his lips, a set of dimples just barely showing, “You’re bleeding by the way.” He added, gently touching your hand. Startled, you jerked away, heat licking at your cheeks. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he quickly apologized, “But you should bandage that or it might get infected if something gets into the wound.” “Don’t worry, it’s not even that deep,” you concluded after examining the small cut on the back of your hand where you had lost the battle with one of the thorns. You quickly shot the man another smile that you hoped was reassuring.

“So do any of those roses look good to you?” “The pale orange ones look nice.” You couldn’t hold back a small giggle. “What’s so funny?” He asked, his beautiful brows drawn together in confusion. “The color is called peach,” you still giggled, grabbing the pot to show him the petals in the sunlight. “Well it is orange though,” he shrugged. “Men and colors,” you sighed dramatically but couldn’t help the smile spreading on your lips, “You like them and want to try caring for them?” “Yeah, let’s try it. Anything I should look out for?” While walking up to the cash register and ringing him up, you briefly explained how to take care of the roses the best.

“I hope they brighten up your room a bit,” you smiled when he had paid. “The visit sure brightened up my day,” he replied smiling widely, the set of cute dimples reappearing on his cheeks. Before you could overcome your sudden shyness to reply anything, he had already wished you a good day and disappeared from the shop.

After his visit, the man had crept back into your mind a couple of times. Every time you watered the little twin of the rose bush he had bought, it somehow reminded you of his sweet dimpled smile and his deep, soothing voice. You always scolded yourself when you noticed how you were spacing out, in fact watering the floor instead of the little rose bushes how you were supposed to. (You had been made fun of by a certain pink haired boy one too many times lately.) Your boss had just smiled knowingly and pressed a little bouquet with beautiful yellow Chrysanthemums in the middle, when you had closed up the shop, making your face heat up and furiously deny everything. But like always, the old lady knew you probably better than you knew yourself.

The second time the handsome stranger had visited the shop, he had been wearing a white turtle neck and a simple denim jacket, his hair pushed back with a dark blue hat. “Hello again,” he greeted you, gently smiling when he walked up to the counter where you were currently binding a bouquet with a couple of big purple hyacinths, “I’ll have a little look around. No need to hurry that.” Even though you tried to concentrate on arranging the flowers in the bouquet and picking smaller flowers that would look good with the big center piece, you kept glancing over to the man who was sniffing different flowers, quietly sneezing when he inhaled too deeply.

“Those are really pretty,” he said after he had not so subtly watched you work for a while from his place between the brightly colored geraniums while walking up to the counter. “The man who commissioned them paid a lot of money for them to look pretty,” you smiled, gently tucking smaller white flowers all around the big purple ones in the middle. “Does it mean anything? I’ve never seen this kind of flower,” he asked, seeming genuinely interested. “You’re interested in the language of flowers?” You asked, securely tying the bouquet together, placing them in a vase for the time being. “What languages would flowers speak?” The man asked, sounding genuinely confused. For a moment you could just stare at him, his dark brown eyes widened and his mouth slightly ajar, before you burst out in a fit of giggles. “Hey! What’s so funny?” He asked, trying to sound offended but he couldn’t fight the smile that spread across his lips. “They don’t speak any language, silly. The different types of flowers mean different things. I don’t know all of it but the owner of the shop has been teaching me some of it,” you explained to him. “Ooh, that makes a lot more sense,” he nodded, “What do those mean then?” “They’re hyacinths. The man told me he needed to apologize to his girlfriend. The purple ones stand for sorrow. I doubt she will notice though.” “Probably not,” he chuckled. “What did the rose mean I bought last time? The peach one?” “I’m not quite sure, I’ll ask my boss when she’s back. What brings you back here?” “Well,” he scratched the back of his head and averted his eyes, “I need a new plant, the rose was kind of a lot more work than I thought it was.”

“Oh no.” You felt genuinely sad. You kind of had expected it not to go well but this was honestly a lot faster than you could have imagined. “I should have listened to you when you told me that they were a lot, I’m sorry,” he apologized, “But I really want to try to keep a plant alive. She looked really good for the time she was alive.” “She?” “Well I gave her a name.” You giggled again. “That’s really cute.” “Not as cute as you though.” It was suddenly so silent in the shop, the only noise the soft buzzing sound coming from the air-conditioning. You stared into the man’s eyes, expecting a his face to heat up in a similar fashion yours was, to see a blush creep up his face or his ears, but his face stayed perfectly pale, not a single blotch of color visible. But he had to be embarrassed as well if the way he was chewing on his lips was any sign. “I’m sorry, that just slipped,” he mumbled. “I… Shouldn’t you at least tell me your name before you start complimenting me like that?” You stuttered when you found your voice again. “Jaehyun,” he supplied, still awkwardly shuffling around, “It’s Jaehyun.” “Alright Jaehyun, let’s find you a new plant that’s not as easy to kill.

From that day onward Jaehyun came to the shop somewhat regularly, either announcing the death of yet another plant or telling you how they were on the brink of death and he didn’t know how it happened or what to do to save them. You were really close to either tell him to stick to bouquets or cacti but when you were being honest, you enjoyed his little visits. He’d stay longer and longer every time, telling you little stories about how he suspected that his roommates were secretly killing all the plants. In turn you told him about your boring life between your classes and your job. And sometimes you even taught him about the language of flowers while he was watching you put together a bouquet for yet another desperate boyfriend.

One visit in particular had stuck with you for some reason. Your whole day had just been bad: One of your professors had caught you slacking off in class and called you out in front of everyone, then at lunch a guy had run into you, making you drop half your food on the floor and then it had started to rain on your way to work. And if that wasn’t enough, the old lady hadn’t been feeling well because of the sudden change in weather and you had sent her off into her apartment that was above the shop, so she could rest. So now you were just alone in the shop, watching the people outside hurry past the shop with their umbrellas. When it was raining even less people were coming into the shop because you couldn’t put any plants outside that often lured people in. Sighing, you continued with the inventory that you had started out of boredom. Of course you also hadn’t brought any useful books, so you could have studied a little.

You must have been deep in thought, moping about how much this day sucked, that you didn’t hear the little bell on the door ringing. So when someone touched your arm to get your attention, you of course were startled and let out a small scream before you lost your balance on the stepladder that you had used to count the spare pots on a higher shelf. And if that wasn’t enough, you also pushed one of said pots down as well. But before you could even brace yourself for the fall, a strong arm had wrapped around you, saving you from crashing down onto the floor and possibly cracking your head open. When you opened your eyes, that you had screwed shut, you saw straight into Jaehyun’s deep brown eyes that were full of concern. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he spoke softly and you could feel how his voice rumbled in his chest from how close he was holding you to his body. “It’s alright, it’s my fault anyways. I wasn’t paying attention,” you sighed, slowly realizing in what kind of situation you and Jaehyun were in right now. His face was so close to yours that you could almost count every single one of his long, dark eyelashes. You could even see the faintest little blush spreading over his cheeks and your own face immediately felt hot as well.

Jaehyun just smiled and released you from his grip, gently setting the pot he somehow had managed to catch with his other hand back onto the shelf. He really must have incredible reflexes and obviously the most charming smile you had ever seen. “Don’t blame yourself, you don’t look too good today,” he spoke softly. “Wow thanks,” you sarcastically said, sighing theatrically while running your hands through your hair in an attempt to smooth it out, but probably messing it up further than it already was. “Hard day?” You snorted. Hard was an understatement. It sucked. But a little voice in the back of your head whispered that now that Jaehyun had come to visit you in the shop, it would get better. “You look like you could use a hug,” he smiled and opened his arms invitingly.

Before you could even think twice about it, you wound your arms around his middle and squeezed him tightly, burying your face in the soft fabric of his cardigan that he wore over one of his many turtlenecks. Chuckling, he grabbed the fabric and stretched it around you, so you were basically wrapped up in it against his chest, before wrapping you up in his strong arms. You were drowning in his by now familiar scent and the way his chest steadily rose and fell with his breath made all stress from your body slowly dissolve. “If you keep holding me like this I will cry,” you mumbled, trying to untangle yourself from him. “I don’t mind, you know? Sometimes you just have to cry to let all the stress out,” he assured you, rubbing soothing circles on your back. “Don’t say that, I will ugly cry in your shirt,” you hiccupped, “I barely know you.” “Oh I think you know me a lot better than a lot of people,” he smiled, “It’s an old shirt anyways.” “Liar, I’ve never seen you wear this before.” “You’re keeping track?” He chuckled. “That’s not what I meant by that,” you mumbled, feeling shy suddenly because how could you not keep track when he just effortlessly looked infuriatingly good every time he walked into the shop.

“You feeling better now?” Jaehyun gently asked after you two had fallen silent, just basking in each other’s presence. He gently tilted your head back from where you had buried it in his neck, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah,” you breathed, captivated by him. You had never noticed the tiny mole he had on one of his cheeks but you found it really endearing. “Good,” he smiled, “I brought you coffee from the shop next door.” He motioned to the two cups he had placed on the counter next to the cash register. “You have a heart of gold Jaehyun,” you confessed, a smile slowly spreading on your lips and your heartbeat picking up. You kept the thought that he probably would also make the perfect boyfriend, to yourself. Not that it would matter, you were sure he didn’t see you like that. He just played it off, laughing awkwardly like he always did when he was embarrassed. (Coming to think of it, you really seemed to know him better than you had initially thought.) “Let’s drink it before it gets cold and you can tell me more about your day,” he offered and slowly loosened his arms around you. “Can you tell me about yours instead?” You asked with a small voice. “I’d rather forget all of this stupid day before you walked in here.” “Of course, darling,” he breathed. Your heart skipped a beat before doubling its pace when the pet name rolled of his tongue just like that. Maybe there was just the slightest little chance, he might consider you more than just the friend that worked in the flower shop that he had to visit to get advice on how to not kill his plants. Smiling you loosened your grip on him as well and you two sat down on the counter, dangling your legs and sipping the slightly cold coffee while you listened to Jaehyun ramble about the mess that were his flatmates. Until this day you hadn’t figured out how many people he actually lived with but you couldn’t help but smile at the little stories he told you. And even when he stopped talking, you just enjoyed the silence while watching the people outside. And maybe it was just your imagination but the umbrellas outside seemed just a little brighter with your head resting on Jaehyun’s broad shoulder.

“I’ve never noticed your whole tattoo thing that’s going on,” you said, motioning around your own neck when you came back from your fond memories of Jaehyun. “Yeah, I try to not let it show as much usually,” he replied, almost nervously playing with the collar of his leather jacket. “Did it hurt a lot when you got it?” “Yeah, the skin is kind of tender around your neck,” he answered, his gaze not meeting your eyes but fixating a point right behind you. “You get that question a lot don’t you?” you gently asked, fingers itching to reach out to touch him. “Yeah, it’s all people talk about when they see it,” he shrugged, “I’m used to it by now.” “Oh, I’m sorry,” you quickly apologized. “It’s fine,” Jaehyun reassured you, gently grazing his fingers over your exposed forearm, making goose bumps break out over your skin. “Yes, it did hurt. No I don’t regret it. Yes I probably can’t work a normal job if I’m not wearing a turtleneck. No, I didn’t get it in prison. It was done in a perfectly sanitary tattoo shop by a professional artist. No, I’m not a criminal”, he quickly addressed every typical question he apparently got about the tattoo in a single breath, a smile spreading on his lips, making his dimples appear and your heart beat faster.

“Glad to know I haven’t been talking to a criminal over the past few weeks even though you did kill an unholy amount of plants,” you giggled, checking again if the order was ready only to find Ten engrossed in a conversation with a group of young men that were sitting at the bar, his work forgotten. “Well I guess I am guilty of that,” Jaehyun pouted and it was weirdly endearing seeing him act playful like that with his dark and intimidating clothing. “So you’re not a criminal but a biker?” “Is that what you think our group is?” He asked, tilting his head to the side. “That’s what everyone told me at least. And you do look the part.” “A couple of us do have bikes, but I don’t think that justifies the title. We’re just a,” he bit his tongue for a bit, “We’re just friends. Friends who like to dress in a lot of leather and black clothing.”

It seemed to be a somewhat touchy subject so you decided to not push any further. “You don’t need to explain it to me,” you smiled reassuringly, quickly squeezing his cold hand. “Jaehyun, stop flirting with my best waitress,” Kun teased, adding the little shot glasses to the second tray that completed the order. “I wasn’t flirting, I-“ but Jaehyun didn’t complete his apology when Kun shot him a knowing look and your face heated up on his behalf because Jaehyun didn’t blush like ever. “Stop making excuses and help her carry all this back to the table,” the barman grinned, returning to his work by pulling Ten back by the hairs on his neck from where he was still talking to the handsome customers sitting at the bar. “I would appreciate some help, that’s what Johnny came over for as well,” you tried to push past the awkwardness. “Like hell he was,” Jaehyun grumbled, grabbing the one of the trays maybe a tad too forceful than he needed to, the drinks almost spilling over. “Don’t be angry with him, he was being nice,” you consoled him, gently petting his leather clad arm (wasn’t he warm in that thick jacket?). “I saw just how nice he was being,” he sighed, rolling his shoulders, “He’s such a goddamn flirt.” “Nothing happened Jaehyun,” you tried one last time, looking into his dark eyes, getting lost in the seemingly bottomless obsidian.

Only the thud of the heavy entrance door made you snap out of it and you quickly turned to grab the second tray. You hadn’t even noticed how you had gravitated towards Jaehyun, it was like his eyes had hypnotized you. “Need another pair of helping hands?” A familiar voice asked and Johnny strode over towards you two again, now with an energetic bounce in his step, his red lips curved into a smile. “We’ve got it,” Jaehyun answered, scrunching his nose as if he had smelled something bad before taking a deep breath. “Don’t wait too long, Jaehyun,” the taller said, his tone suddenly stern and his brows furrowed. “I can handle it, Johnny,” Jaehyun gritted out, shoving past the taller man to make his way over to the table where their friends were still waiting for their drinks. Sighing, you followed him back to the table. It was weird how different he was behaving with his friends around. You had never expected to meet him in any place outside of your job at the flower shop and much less in a place like this. The soft man who liked to wear denim jackets seemed to be buried beneath the heavy leather jacket.

“Here’s your drinks,” you smiled when you put the tray down to distribute the drinks. “You’re not drinking with us?” A blonde man with a scratch in his eyebrow asked when everyone had picked up their shot glasses. “It’s my first day, I don’t think it’s a good idea,” you politely declined his offer. “I’m sure Ten and Kun won’t mind,” he grinned, lifting up his own glass to hand it over to you. “She said no, didn’t you hear, Yuta?” Jaehyun growled and shot his friend a dark look. Unfazed by his behavior, the blonde - Yuta - shrugged his shoulders before drowning his shot himself, not grimacing in the slightest even though the liquid had a questionable amount of alcohol in it, judging by the numbers that had been printed on the label. “But I’m sure we can treat you to something else,” he spoke, before shifting in his seat so his poorly buttoned sleeveless shirt fell open even further, revealing smooth skin that stretched over lean muscles and a promise of something metal hidden beneath. “I-“, you stuttered. What were you supposed to reply to something like that? “You’re shameless,” one of his dark haired friends chuckled, a silver chain glistening in the light when he shook his head. “It’s called confidence,” Yuta defeated himself. “Still shameless,” another one agreed, a grin on his face. “He hasn’t had a good lay in a while, don’t mind him,” Taeyong cut in, shooting you a reassuring smile. “Certainly not because I didn’t had any offers, I’m just picky,” Yuta tried to defend himself, looking scandalized. You just giggled when the other’s started picking on him. You noticed that Jaehyun didn’t join in but his posture was more relaxed than it had been before. You really wanted to thank him for defending your choice to not drink but now didn’t seem appropriate. Silently you collected the now empty shot glasses and picked the trays back up. “I’ll be back to check in with you later then,” you smiled before walking back to the counter after checking in with a couple of other tables.

The rest of the night went down in a blur safe for the one occasion where the slender Ten indeed threw out one of the customers that couldn’t hold his liquor anymore and had fallen when he had tried to walk over to the bar to order more because Lucas had already refused to bring him any more drinks. The times when you had checked in on the 127 table, Yuta had still flirted with you only to be either shot down by Jaehyun or Taeyong. You had also noticed that over the course of the night one or two of them would always leave the bar for a couple of minutes before coming back inside with a new energy and a faint blush on their cheeks. You didn’t know what they did out there but you really hoped they didn’t do drugs or anything like that. They didn’t seem as intoxicated as the other customers no matter how much they ordered. If anything Mark was getting giggly after he had come back inside but that was pretty much everything. They all must have incredible tolerance for alcohol.

When the night died down and more and more customers were leaving, Kun waved you over to tell you that you had been a great help and he would be more than happy to see you again tomorrow for your next shift. You had beamed at him and promised to do your best. “I’m sure you will. Thank you for today, I think Lucas and I can handle the remaining customers,” he told you. “What’s with Ten?” You asked. You hadn’t seen him in a while. Kun just sighed and motioned to the 127 table where Ten comfortably sat on Johnny’s lap, the taller carding through the blonde’s hair that he had freed from the little ponytail. “Are they a thing?” You were confused. Johnny hadn’t been subtle about his flirting earlier. “No one really knows,” Kun groaned, suddenly seeming very irritated, “It’s been happening more lately but last week he went home with Taeyong as far as I remember.” “Oh…” “Don’t think about it too much. I want to say that he knows what he’s doing but that would mean that he’s actually using his brain.” Somehow you thought that he sounded sad. “Just tell Ten that you like him, Kun,” Lucas groaned, running a hand through his by now messy platinum hair. “I don’t like him,” the elder gritted out, violently cleaning glasses and slamming them onto a rack to dry. “Sure and I’ve never thought about making out with any of your roommates,” Lucas teased him. “You have what?” “Never mind I said that,” Lucas mumbled, his ears turning red, before he made a beeline to one of his tables.

You chuckled quietly. “I think he’s fond of you as well,” you softly spoke after Kun had thrown another longing look at Ten who was busy admiring the eagle tattoo on Johnny’s chest. “You don’t need to console me, but I appreciate it,” he smiled but it didn’t quiet reach his eyes, “I came to accept him how he is.” “You should at least try to shoot you shout though, don’t you think?” You tried again, stepping closer to the barman to help him clean the last glasses. He sighed deeply. “I’ve known Ten for too long now, I know he won’t suddenly become monogamous just because I tell him that I might not dislike him as much as I sometimes say.” “You can never know for sure, people do crazy stuff because of love,” a deep voice joined the conversation and Jaehyun sat down on the barstool in front of Kun and you, throwing you a quick smile. “He’s right,” you smiled, briefly squeezing Kun’s hand. “If I say that I’ll think about it, will you leave it alone for now?” You eagerly nodded, looking up at Jaehyun to see if he was doing the same. Instead a smirk played on his lips. “If you give me my drinks for free, I’ll even tell Johnny to not take Ten home tonight,” he grinned, holding up his card between two fingers. “You’re paying for everyone?” Kun just gritted out, snatching the card from the other’s fingers. Jaehyun’s grin widened before he nodded. “Isn’t that going to be a lot of money?” You asked worriedly. You had never asked but assumed Jaehyun must be a student like you, so paying the whole bill for nine men (well eight if Kun was giving Jaehyun his own drinks for free) was a lot. “I lost at rock paper scissors,” he shrugged, “Are you done with your shift?”

“She is,” Kun cut in, smacking the credit card back onto the bartop, “Tell Johnny to send him home, I’m not feeding his cats again because they’re screaming for food.” “Sure. That’s the only reason,” Jaehyun joked, pocketing his card with a grin. Kun didn’t answer, instead leaving you two alone to wipe some empty tables. “Are you going home alone?” “It’s not far from here,” you reassured the dark haired man. “I’ll walk you. You shouldn’t go alone this late.” “Only if it’s not a bother for you…” “Keeping you safe is never a bother for me,” he smiled, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and you barely suppressed a shiver from how cold his hands were against your heated face. “I’ll tell the other’s not to wait for me and will wait outside for you,” he softly spoke before turning to walk out the door where his friends apparently had already left.

You quickly gathered your things and sorted out your tips from the rest of the money, putting everything back into the place that Lucas had shown you before disappearing into the staff room to stuff the money into your designated tip jar, so Lucas and you could share your tips with Ten and Kun. While you were quickly trying to fix your hair in the small mirror a very grumpy looking Ten joined you, groaning loudly. You had to suppress your smile. Jaehyun really had convinced Johnny to not take Ten home. “Men are trash, honey,” the blonde suddenly spoke, “Don’t fall for any of them.” “Did you get dumped?” You tried to act like you didn’t exactly knew what must have happened. “Can’t get dumped if you aren’t dating,” Ten chirped, smoothing out a wrinkle in his silky blouse, “But something similar.” “I’m sorry.” “No need to be darling, I’ll just annoy Kun a little more, maybe he’ll actually pop a vein these days,” he giggled mischievously. “Be nice to him, he seems like an actual sweetheart,” you said while slipping on your jacket and picking up your bag. “He is, darling. But where’s the fun in that?” Ten held the door open for you and followed you back to the main room. “Be safe on your way home.” “Jaehyun is waiting outside for me,” you admitted, suddenly feeling shy under Ten’s intense gaze. “So that’s why Johnny wouldn’t take me with him,” he grinned. “No, no that’s not it. He just offered to walk me home,” you stuttered to explain yourself. It wasn’t like what Ten thought it was, right? Oh god. Not that Jaehyun was expecting anything now. He just had asked to walk you home though. Was it a code word for something you didn’t know? “I’m sure he only has the most noble motives,” the barkeeper snickered, “Go, don’t let prince charming wait for too long.” With that he waved you off, walking over to where Kun was wiping a table to drape his body over the other’s back, probably complaining about being dumped. But Kun didn’t seem to mind a whole lot, judging by the smile that tugged on the corners of his lips.

After you had barely escaped Xuxi’s suffocating goodbye hug, you stepped outside into the cold night, taking a deep breath. It was quiet for a Friday night but that might have just been the time. Worried you looked around when you couldn’t see Jaehyun’s broad figure anywhere. Did he ditch you? That didn’t seem like him. Curious you looked into the little ally beside the bar where the dumpsters were. At first you couldn’t make out anything in the dark but when your eyes had adjusted, you could make out a figure, no two, in the dark. One of them was wearing a familiar leather jacket with way too many buckles and straps to be convenient. The man was clinging to the second, unmoving figure and the whole scene made Goosebumps break out all over your body.

“J-Jaehyun?” you stuttered, your bag falling from your shoulder, landing on the concrete with a soft thud. As if he was electrocuted, the man with the dark clothes shoved the limp body he was holding onto just a second ago away from him, but no sound left the other man’s lips, nor did his facial expression change in any way. “I can explain this,” Jaehyun said, his lips a deep red and smeared with what seemed to be blood and eyes wide, tinted a bright crimson. You felt a shiver run down your spine, the scream that had been stuck in your throat threatening to spill now. But before it could rip free, a palm was pressed over your lips and your body collided with Jaehyun’s solid frame. “Please don’t scream,” he whispered in your ear which made all the hairs on your neck stand up. What was happening? Why was there blood on Jaehyun? Has his eyes changed color? How did he get across to you within the blink of an eye? What was with the other person? In a panic, your eyes scanned the alleyway and another muffled scream ripped from your throat when you saw that the man was still unmoving even though he was bleeding from a wound in his neck. “Please,” Jaehyun begged, his voice sounding strained, “Let me explain this, don’t hate me.” Being pressed so close to him, you couldn’t help but notice that his chest wasn’t moving in the slightest like it should if he was breathing. What was happening? Panic began to rise inside you and you felt like you were suffocating, your lungs not getting enough oxygen with Jaehyun’s palm pressed over your mouth. Panicking, you grabbed his wrist and let your nails dig into his skin, but the skin didn’t break. Desperate, you tried to get more air into your lungs, meeting his eyes in a silent plea. “Please don’t scream,” Jaehyun repeated firmly before he slowly freed your mouth, but kept holding you close.

You heaved a couple of heavy breaths, feeling the panic slowly disappear but your heart kept beating furiously, the adrenaline coursing through your veins making you dizzy. “Let me take care of this and I’ll explain everything, I promise,” Jaehyun spoke once your breathing had somewhat evened out. “I’ll release you now, don’t run away.” Your voice was still lost somewhere, so you just nodded. After confirming with a nod himself, he slowly uncurled from you and walked over to the other man who was still in a daze, staring straight ahead. “You will walk home now and not remember anything that happened from the moment you saw me approach you,” Jaehyun spoke to him, looking into his eyes intensely and if your own eyes weren’t playing a trick on you, Jaehyun’s eyes had turned a bright crimson color. He leaned into the other man again where his neck was still bleeding and when the man turned to leave and walk away, the area was clean. Instead Jaehyun’s lips were smeared with blood that he quickly wiped into his shirt. “What the fuck, Jaehyun?” You whispered, your voice sounding raw as if you hadn’t spoken in hours.

“I can explain this,” he repeated again, turning his palms towards you in surrender when he walked back over. “How can you explain this? You- That- That man was straight up hypnotized and behaved like an actual puppet. And that blood. This is crazy. I’m dreaming. That’s it right? Or someone must have slipped me something in the bar and I’m tripping right now. Because this looks an awful lot like you just sucked that guy’s blood like you’re a vampire and that’s crazy. Vampires aren’t real. And I’ve seen you walk around in the middle of the day. But then again, your hands are always cold and I couldn’t even scratch you with my nails and you have mad reflexes,” you started to spiral, the words just falling from your lips. “Hey, take a breath. A deep breath, here,” Jaehyun softly spoke, gently taking your hands and pressing the palms on his chest, taking a deep breath himself. Even though you tried to breathe with him to calm down, you couldn’t help but notice that his fingers weren’t as cold as they had been before and that you couldn’t feel his heartbeat despite the fact that your palm was sitting right over his heart, just separated by his thin black shirt from the skin. “You… You don’t have a heartbeat,” you whispered, your eyes searching his that were a perfectly normal deep brown shade now while you pressed your palms down on his chest harder. “I don’t,” he spoke carefully, scanning your features for any changes, “I haven’t had one for a while.” “You aren’t breathing right now.” “I don’t need to. I keep forgetting.” “You… You’re forgetting to breathe?” “I usually do when I’m around humans but sometimes I forget.” “You say that as if you’re not…” You couldn’t finish the sentence, it was too absurd. “As if I’m not human myself? I’m not. Not anymore.” “Then what are you?” “You’ve said it before, I’m a vampire,” he confessed.

“A vampire…” You repeated dumbfounded. It made sense, everything was adding up but this couldn’t be the explanation. Vampires were just made up. “And the others are too, they’re my coven. That’s why I didn’t want Johnny to talk to you.” “Would he have..?” Your eyes widened and one of your hands flew to your neck, covering where your pulse was fluttering beneath the skin. “I’m not going to hurt you, I could never,” Jaehyun whispered when he saw the fear in your eyes, gently cupping your face as if to prove his point. “I like you way too much to hurt you. And I won’t let anyone of the others even lay a finger on you.” Your eyes immediately flew to his lips that were still stained red when he leaned in even closer so you would be able to feel his breath mingling with yours if he was breathing. “I really want to kiss you right now, is that stupid?” The vampire whispered. “Don’t hurt me,” you whispered back, letting your eyes fall shut. “I could never,” he breathed before brushing his lips against yours in a chaste kiss that send sparks through your whole body. When Jaehyun felt you relax against him, your fingers uncurling from his shirt, he kissed you again, firmer this time, wrapping his arms tight around you as if he was afraid that you would disappear.

When you felt your head start to get light, you gently tapped his strong chest and he immediately retreated, looking at you with a worried expression. “One of us still needs to breathe,” you giggled breathless. “I’m sorry,” he smiled, carding his fingers through your hair, just watching you breathe for a moment, losing himself in your eyes.

“I have another secret to tell you,” Jaehyun broke the silence, his dimpled smile lighting up his face. “I don’t think you can shock me anymore,” you smiled back. “I didn’t actually kill any of the plants I bought. I just needed to have a reason to keep seeing you. Our house looks like a jungle.” You couldn’t stop giggling, leaning into his (not moving) chest that rumbled with his low chuckle. “You’re cute,” you smiled, snaking your arms around his waist below his jacket, somehow not even missing the warmth that bodies usually gave off. “Shut up,” he chuckled, wrapping you up in a tight hug. “You want to know something else?” You whispered into his chest after a while. The vampire just hummed, gently swaying you. “I looked up what the rose meant that you bought when you first came into the shop… You wanna know what it stands for?” Jaehyun hummed again. “It stands for immortality.” This time it was Jaehyun who was laughing, holding your body tighter to steady himself.

#jaehyun #jung jaehyun #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines #nct #nct 127 #jaehyun fic #nct scenarious #nct imagines #nct fluff

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cherrywoes · 3 years

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ii. come with me, destroy the masses.

tw (general): graphic descriptions of blood, gore, sexual content, violence, homicide, physical torture, psychological torture, rape, dubcon, drugs, overdosing, suicide, cannibalism (brief desc/mention), knife play, wax play, dacryphilia, sadism, masochism, bdsm, corsetry, human trafficking, drug trafficking, oral fixation, thigh kink, stocking fetish, food play (and more to be named.) tw (this chapter): stabbing with knitting needles, mention of oral sex, mentions of displaying heads upon mantles, blood, gore, etc.

“MAMA, YOU LOOK like you were drowned in a river and left to dry out in the sun,” were the first words that Akamine Jun’ichi said to you when you exited the prison facility with a grace only you could have afforded. He was dressed to impress in a two piece suit, the back panels hanging a few inches lower than normal and fluttering in the slight breeze. His hair, dyed to such a blue fluorescence that it was almost too bright, had been grown long, longer than you had seen him last, and now framed his face in feathery layers with the rest tied to the top of his head in a messy knot that was almost stylish. The hair pin he’d shoved through it was just a little bit too ostentatious, but he wouldn’t be Jun’ichi if he wasn’t the least bit over extravagant. You observed him with an amused half-smile upon your lips, eyes darting down to the gold rimming the seams of his expensive dress shoes and the gold plated spikes embedded in the back heel. “Ah, or should I have said your beauty has not faded a day since you went in?”

“Oh, you know I hate dishonesty,” you tutted, reaching up and patting his cheek condescendingly. He leaned into it slightly and you smiled knowingly, withdrawing your hand before a crimson blush could make its way up his cheeks and fluster him. Where Nao was like your child, Jun’ichi was your doting husband, always quick to defend you and flourish at your side—you could always count on him to have your best interests at heart. While easily flustered by any smidgen of affection you gave him, he was quick to recover, clearing his throat and giving your mundane sweatpants and shirt a cursory once over. You sighed and lamented,”They burned my clothes when they were done using them as evidence. That was an expensive pair of Louboutins I lost; I’d rather like another pair of them.”

“As you wish.” Jun’ichi bowed slightly at the waist, almost mockingly, but you adored him for his candor. He plucked a new cell phone from his coat pocket and handed it to you with a flourish. When you raised a fairly bushy and unplucked eyebrow, he said, carefully,“Your last phone was… a bit outdated, [Name]-sama.”

You scowled at the dark screen of the Samsung. Technology had advanced while you were rotting away in a cell block, that was for certain. A quick press of a short button on the side sent you to a home screen; from there it was easy enough to figure it out, though you didn’t like change. You much preferred your flip phones and old burners compared to the pricey piece of technology in your hand; it was fragile and felt like it could break easily. You examined the lavender casing on the back and the three cameras in the top left corner, eyes narrowing in displeasure.

“Fine.” Tucking it away into the waistband of your pants, as there were no pockets to be had, you fixed him with an irritated stare. “But we need to make several stops before I’ll feel like myself again. You haven’t emptied the coffers while I was away, have you?”

Jun’ichi laughed lightly. “No, I merely filled them. You may take a look at your account on your phone if you like.”

When you glowered at him at the mention of the phone, he looked away.

“Perhaps not,” he mumbled, as an afterthought. In an effort to draw your attention away from the shiny new toy he had bought you, he said,”So, to the salon? Your hair looks very unhealthy.”

“No, the seamstress.” You reached up and plucked the collar of your cotton and polyester t-shirt with a grimace. It was cheaply made and something you wouldn’t have been caught dead in if you had a choice; you much preferred silks and pure cotton and the comfort of a nicely pressed pantsuit or jumpsuit. “Mixed fabrics make me itch.”

“Of course.” He gestured for a car idling at the curb of the police station. You watched the sleek black Lincoln pull out and begin to drive towards you, your eyes flicking over the shiny new finish and the dealership plates still screwed into the front plate. The driver was unrecognizable to you, with his hair buzzed short and a plain black suit to match his unassuming appearance. He wore sunglasses as well and you attempted to peer past them, but found it worthless to do so. You trusted Jun’ichi to vet the staff properly, and if he didn’t, you would have his head—whether it was between your legs or on your mantle was his decision to make. He was lovely at apologies, but you weren’t in the mood to deal with another betrayal—Nao’s already stung quite considerably and your temper would flare if you had another. You hoped his teeth were sitting on your desk, waiting for you to admire them: the gold caps had been quite nice and you were debating having the diamonds embedded in a dog collar so you could leash it around his throat and walk him around in public and within your manor just to humiliate him a little more. He hadn’t cried when you had pulled out his teeth, but maybe he would at the thought of public humiliation. He always was sensitive to his image.

Your parents would be so disappointed that you forewent the traditional Yakuza punishments. It was a pity they were too dead to see the empire you had built from their ashes.

“Did Nao return to the manor?” You inquired as Jun’ichi opened the door for you politely. He hummed in an indication for you to elaborate, hand pausing on the door and the other held aloft to help you into the cabin. “Did he put his teeth on my desk like I asked him to?”

“Ah.” Your advisor grimaced, as if imagining the pain his subordinate had gone through himself. He was always the sympathetic one, even if you forbid him from doing anything to help the people you punished. “Yes, he did. By the cup of red pens, I believe.”

With a curt nod of satisfaction, you stepped into the cabin and allowed the door to shut behind you. It was a luxurious car, of that you were certain, the leather soft and buttery and surprisingly real. Faux leather was disappointingly common in most cars you had purchased, even from luxury dealers like Mercedes and Lamborghini. You ran a finger down the seam of stitching on a corner, watching the flesh of your thumb catch on them as you went. You ignored the bustling city in favor of examining the car, uninterested in the changes that had occurred in the time you had been incarcerated. You were eager to return to your throne and get back to work; after all, no one ran the underworld quite as well as you did. You trusted Jun’Ichi to keep things stable, but he was soft and malleable, a trait you should have beaten out of him years ago; but you had needed that softness during that time in your life, and while it wasn’t a regret, it was a mistake you acknowledged with your heart.

You pulled your new phone out of your waistband with a tired sigh. You felt you could do with a few hours of sleep in a proper bed with satin sheets and a weighted duvet, but there was work to be done that couldn’t wait a second longer. Ten years was too long to be out of the game. You had meddled in affairs, of course, but you had never been able to get to the full extent of your former power while you were trapped in that prison. Now that you were free, there would be several people who would pay dearly for what they had done to you—but first, you had to lay low. Your release had been a secret thanks to hush money paid to several media outlets and cops, of which you had no doubt paid a small fortune for. You didn’t want rats scattering back into their hidey holes and popping back out to be menaces when you least expected it.

Before you could explore the features of your sparkling new touch screen phone, a call came through. The contact icon was blank and only displayed a gradient of color, but you recognized the number typed into the contact name well enough.

“Swipe right to answer it,” Jun’ichi offered helpfully.

You frowned and did as he said, holding the phone up to your ear and hoping you didn’t accidentally press something wrong. You were rewarded with an excited yell on the other line.

“Lǎo bǎn niáng!” You pressed your lips together at the term but did nothing to correct it. “You’re out of prison! I was wondering when you would finally get out; I’ve missed you over the years.”

You could practically hear the pout in Huang Jinhai’s voice when he spoke. The man was over fifty years old, yet he still acted as if he was a sulky teenager, which wasn’t much of a change since the last time you had spoken to him. The prison didn’t allow you to collect calls from China, citing you were a ‘risk’, so you never spoke to him as often as you got to with your own syndicate, which wasn’t often at all. “Shū fù, you know as well as I do that they would never allow me to call you. It is nice to hear your voice, though.”

Jun’ichi caught your eye in the rearview mirror. You scowled at him and jerked your head to indicate he should look forward and away from you.

“Ah, I can hear the lie in your voice even over the phone.” You repressed a sigh at the sniffle you heard over the line, turning your head and knocking it against the window. “But that’s an issue for another day. I had a gift sent to your manor house when your lieutenant told me you would be released—I think you’ll love it when you see it.”

A flash of color caught your eye. You turned to look out the window, holding the phone slightly askew from your face. “You know I don’t like surprises.”

“But you’ll like this one, I think.” He laughed. “Knowing how you are, you’re eager to get back to work, so I’ll let you go.”

You hung up before he could take you on another tangent. While you loved your uncle, he could be a bit much, even for you at times. The fact that he had somehow gotten a ‘surprise’ into your manor was interesting, however; his last surprise had been a very crude rendition of a Jackson Pollock painting, however it had been all over your bedroom and in blood and various entrails you weren’t keen on identifying at the time. He was never one to do things in halves, your uncle, so whatever surprise he had gotten you was doubtless something to be wary of.

By the time you had thought through all of the possible things he could have done to your home, you had arrived at the seamstress’ home. It was a small thing nestled between family owned bars and shops catered to foreigners, and in a shady enough area as well. There were thugs crawling around every corner, some from syndicates you knew and some that you did not—several hosted fairly visible tattoos of panthers on their arms, exposed by short sleeved shirts and wife beaters that looked to have seen better days. While they weren’t clean, per se, they appeared well taken care of and the stains on their shirts were old blood or sake stains. Their shoes denoted a fairly well off syndicate as well, cleaner and fancier than their clothes; their jewelry as well, the same panther motif hanging from gold or silver chains or even studs in their ears.

“I see you’ve let interlopers into our midst,” you noted quietly. Your fingers began tapping a rhythm on the window button, counting each panther you saw on the street. You could see Jun’ichi stiffen in the front seat, leather creaking under the sudden shift in weight. The driver paid no mind to it and waited for you to either step out of the car or deal with Jun’ichi while he still sat in the front seat, in the perfect position for you to rip the drawstring from your pants and slide it around his throat and choke him with it. Sliding your fingers off of the button and to your phone, you idly checked the time and glanced at the driver, still silent. “Your failure will not go unpunished. For now, I think, I don’t want to keep the seamstress waiting.”

You leaned forward and snatched the sunglasses off of the driver’s face. You saw his eyelashes flutter in surprise as you were setting them upon your own nose, hooking them behind your ears. When you were satisfied with how you appeared, you stepped out of the car. You didn’t wait for Jun’ichi to follow you; you didn’t trust yourself not to force him to his knees and beat him with his own belt buckle for his indiscretion. There were too many panthers roaming the streets for your taste; they likely reported to someone within the area and your low profile would be blown far too soon.

The inside of the seamstress’ home was quaint and humble. Littered with silks and numerous fabrics, it was a mess of chaotic order, and there were several needles within grabbing distance with enough length to puncture through someone’s eye and into their skull. You picked one up as Jun’ichi squeezed through the door behind you, pressing the sharp tip to your finger and watching a bead of blood well up from the slightest pressure. Other than Jun’ichi’s breathing and your contemplative hum, the house was quiet besides the settling of the wooden support beams and rustling of fabric from somewhere deeper within.

“So the Monster of Tokyo returns,” a wizened, cracked voice sussured. Nestled in the darkest of corners and between large bolts of fabric, Fushimi Chinatsu looked up from her complex knitting pattern with a smile and the corners of her eyes crinkling. Her needles snapped together with a metallic clack, the yarn discarded into a small basket hidden near her feet. She stood slowly, the sound of her bones protesting the only other audible noise in the room, her spine bowed and her neck hunched. She wore a humble outfit of a skirt and a modern graphic t-shirt that was slightly too-large to accommodate the scoliosis in her spine, looking entirely out of place among the yards of silk and lace. Other than her dark, beady eyes and silver hair, Chinatsu was every bit the grizzled ex-Oyabun that you recalled her being. As she drew closer into the light of the windows facing the road, a tattoo of a spiraling dragon and white koi came into view, once hidden by the shadows. “I wondered when you would finally one-up those dicks playing law and order.”

“Fushimi-sama,” you greeted her cordially, the smallest of smiles on your face. “It’s good to see you.”

She laughed, an inhuman cackle that had the hairs on your arms and neck standing on end. “And it’s good to see I can still tell when you’re lying. Don’t worry, [Name]-chan, your secret is safe with me—I have a few more years in me before I hit the grave.”

“I’m surprised you’re still alive.” Slowly, you put the large needle back where it had been laying. Chinatsu watched your movements like a hawk, dark gaze following your hand as it moved away from the needles to pluck at samples of fabric lying beside it. “I would have thought you’d be dead by the time I got out.”

“By natural causes or by my brother-in-law?” She remarked snidely. When you gave her a loose shrug and a quick raise of your eyebrows, she snorted. “Either is likely at this point. But I don’t think you’re here to discuss my death, Akamine-sama, unless I’ve done something to slight you in the past?”

“No, you’re right.” You examined a sample embroidered with cranes and white lotuses; for a kimono, most likely, with the quality of the fabric. “I’m here for new suits. In the same style as usual, of course, and with payment in full.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” Chinatsu was deceptively calm as she lifted a spool of crimson red thread and an equally as livid vermillion silk to compare, holding them up for your inspection. You didn’t miss the slight tremble of her hands as she did so. “I believe a red suit would be in style, no?”

“That would be perfect.” You picked the needle back up and twirled it across your knuckles and between your fingers. “But first, I need to take care of some business. You’ll understand, won’t you?”

You reached back and yanked Jun’ichi forward by his tie. Not expecting the sudden show of force, he fell to his knees, the wood groaning under his weight and the sudden movement. You barely detected the splintering of a singular board beneath his knee. His eyes went wide as you grasped his hands and placed them together in a mockery of prayer.

“Akamine-sama…” Chinatsu tutted. “Prison seems not to have blunted your blade.”

The needle punctured through Jun’ichi’s palms with one quick, precise thrust. There was a momentary pop as it broke through a joint and ligament in his palm. He didn’t scream—your men never screamed—but he did let out a strangled breath at the needle jutting out of his hands, pinning his palms together in front of his face. You had avoided anything purposefully crippling, but blood streamed down his wrists and disappeared into his suit sleeves regardless.

After a moment of consideration, you patted his cheek mockingly and turned your back on him. Then, you turned and pointed to the steadily growing puddle of blood between his knees and underneath his hands, giving Chinatsu an inquiring look.

“Can I get that shade of red?”

i. i wish i could say i'm sorry. | masterlist. | iii. speak my name, tremble with fear.

taglist (open):

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#haikyuu x reader #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #toru x reader #oikawa toru x reader #iwaizumi hajime #ocs #yakuza au

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rubymoon-snape · 3 years

Text

Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron Defender of the Universe.

Summary: Keith escapes from Lotor but not before he undergoes some unusual changes.

Author Note: This is team as family and definitely NOT Kallura.

"The Power of A Woman"

Keith sighed as he or rather she piloted Black Lion back to Arus. She had been captured by Lotor and, for reasons unknown to her, changed her gender. She was hoping to hide it from her team but doubted it was possible. She landed Black on his pedestal and went back through the portal.

Keith was uncomfortable in her regular jumpsuit. It was much too tight in the chest and thigh area and loose in the waist. Also, it was a little too long in the arms and legs. She wanted to leave the control area before anyone saw her, but she wasn't that lucky.

"Keith?"

Keith paused in her attempt in leaving the room. Of course, it was Allura who saw her.

"Keith? Where were you sneaking off to?"

Lance had joined in. Keith didn't want to turn around.

"What's wrong, Keith?"

Pidge would pick up on her lack of comment.

"Do we need to knock some heads?"

Keith had to smile at Hunk's comment. Her teammate would gladly fight anyone who hurt any of his teammates.

Allura reached Keith's side. "You escaped from Lotor's clutches and now you're trying to hide from us. Did he do something that you don't want us to see?"

Keith turned towards the princess, giving everyone a good look at what happened.

Lance, Hunk, and Pidge gawked at their leader before dissolving into fits of laughter. Allura looked bewildered, but Keith had had enough. "I'm leaving. I hope to make it to my room before Nanny sees me."

She stalked out of castle control, silently fuming at her teammates. She knew they would laugh at her. Her temper cooled the further she got from castle control.

"Keith! Wait!"

Keith stopped and turned to see Allura running up the hallway in her direction. "Yes?"

"Come with me." Allura grabbed the other girl's arm and led her to her room. Allura peeked in, looking to see if Nanny was in there. Fortunately, Allura's governess was nowhere to be seen. "The coast is clear. Nanny must be elsewhere." She led Keith into her room. "We need to get you something better fitting to wear."

"I'm not wearing a dress, Princess."

"I understand that, Keith, and your hair needs tied back as well. Now, what color, besides red, do you like?"

"Blue."

Allura smiled and pulled out a blue and white jumpsuit that looked exactly like hers (except for the color scheme). She handed it to her captain and let her change into it in her bathroom. When Keith came back wearing the new clothes, Allura forced her to sit at her vanity. She picked up a hairbrush, brushed Keith's thick hair, and managed to put it up in a ponytail. Her hair wasn't much longer than it normally was, but it was still just past her shoulders. Two locks of hair refused to be bound and framed Keith's face beautifully.

Suddenly, the door opened, and Nanny walked in. "Princess, I- who's this? A visiting royal?" She gave the raven-haired girl a glance up and down. "Really, Princess. You can loan the girl one of your gowns, so she doesn't have to wear pants."

"No. It's all right. I-" Keith tried to say something, but Nanny cut her off.

"So modest!" Nanny pulled a blue gown out of Allura's closet and with the help of a couple of maids forced Keith into the dress. Keith managed to flee before Nanny tried to put make-up on her. She didn't stop running until she was in her room. She collapsed on her bed and didn't move until she had her breathing under control. She carefully removed the dress and put the blue and white jumpsuit back on. She had managed to grab it before she was forced to flee the princess's room.

There was a knock on the door. Keith didn't respond until she heard from the other side, "I thought Keith was headed here."

It was Lance. Keith called out, "Who's out there?"

"It's just us, Keith. Lance, Hunk, and Pidge."

Keith opened the door and let in her team mates, closing the door behind them quickly. Lance saw the discarded blue dress on Keith's bed. Keith saw Lance's gaze on the dress. "Before you assume anything, Nanny caught me and forced me into the dress. Allura had let me borrow this."

The klaxons started blaring, and Coran's voice came over the intercom. "Voltron Force, report to Castle Control!"

Keith, Lance, Pidge, and Hunk all ran from Keith's room, meeting Allura on the way. When they got to Castle Control, Allura asked, "What's the problem, Coran?"

"We are being hailed." The advisor activated the view screen, and Lotor appeared on the screen.

Lotor looked at the assembled team, or, more specifically, at Keith. "I must say. You do make a pretty girl, Captain."

Keith bristled at the comment and growled. "Go to hell, Lotor."

"My, my. A pretty thing like you shouldn't have such a temper or use such language."

"Is this permanent or is there a way to reverse this?" Keith asked, trying to reel in her temper.

Lotor grinned evilly. "There is no reversal."

"Then, why are you here?!"

"To make sure the procedure was a success and to launch an attack on the planet."

The connection was terminated, and an explosion rocked the castle. "We need the lions!"

The five pilots stepped to the side, and Coran pressed the button to raise the platform. All of a sudden, Nanny appeared. "Princesses, you are not going out in those lions!"

"Nanny, I am the only princess here," Allura corrected, "and Lotor is attacking the planet."

"Then, who is that if not a visiting royal?" Nanny asked, pointing at Keith.

"I am not a visiting royal. I may look like a girl, but that doesn't mean you can treat me like one."

"You-"

"No. I am still Captain Keith Kogane, and I will lead my team." With that said, Keith sprinted towards the first portal, jumped, and grabbed the t-bar. She rode it down to the speeder and put on her uniform, heading towards Black Lion. Black Lion roared, and Keith's voice was heard through the comms. "What are you guys waiting for? Launch your lions!"

"Let's go!" Lance exclaimed. The four other pilots dashed to their portals and ended up in their lions. They launched and joined Black Lion in combat.

"Let's form Voltron! Activate interlocks! Dynotherms connected! Infracells up! Megathrusters are go!"

"Let's go Voltron Force!"

They formed Voltron. "Form blazing sword!"

They took down the robeast that Lotor had brought with him.

"Ignite lion torch!" Red Lion fired a stream of fire at Lotor's personal cruiser, causing him to flee.

"All right. Disactivate interlocks and disengage!" Keith ordered. Voltron split back up into the individual lions, and the pilots flew their lions back to their individual dens. They headed back to the control room.

Keith was slightly nervous about being back in the control room as she was sure Nanny was going to still be there, and she was right. Judging by the redness of the governess's face, Keith was sure she was about to be on the end of one of the woman's famous lectures.

"How dare you speak to me that way! I don't-"

"That is enough!" All eyes turned to Allura, who had her hands on her hips. "I have had enough of you berating my team. Yes, they are my team until we are in battle. Then, Keith is our commander. You will show them the respect they have more than earned on multiple occasions including just now. If you do not, you will find yourself out of the castle faster than we can form Voltron!"

"Young lady, you need to be reminded to respect your elders!" Nanny went too try to put Allura over her knee, but Allura stood her ground and yanked her arm away from Nanny.

"You will not! I am the crown princess of Arus and you are my governess. However, I am not the little girl you seem to think I still am. Overstep your bounds again, and you will also find yourself out of the castle."

"Princess, please calm down." Coran placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, which was the wrong move.

"You will unhand me, or you will be fired as well!"

Coran removed his hand in surprise. Keith sighed inaudibly and took a few steps in Allura's direction. "Allura? Maybe we need to separate so we can cool off before we make decisions we may regret."

Allura smiled. No matter her gender, Keith was always looking out for everyone. "I appreciate your concern, but this was a long time coming. However, I agree about departing the control room. Do you four wish to join me in the lounge?"

"Of course, we would, Princess," Lance grinned, and the three men and one woman followed the Princess out of Castle Control in awe of the power she can truly wield. They couldn't wait to see what the future would hold for this tougher version of the princess.

Fin

Author Note 2: Allura had taken her cue on being tough from Keith. Even though Keith was a woman, she still had the power she held as the Voltron commander, inspiring the princess to step up and wield the power that comes with her station.

@queenscene2 @80sgaytrashgoblin @breadstickcat @lion-time @toastess-with-the-mostess

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itsuki-minamy · 3 years

Text

“K SIDE: PURPLE 10”

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

K - Side: Purple (Chapter List)

"Now he's tense!"

When Soma entered the room, that voice rang out.

About 10 men flocked to a section of a large spacious room. It looked like the cushions were scattered around the threadbare tatami mats, and that it was just a play area. He didn't have an intermediate basin, and he wondered if it was okay to bet in the area where everything was happening simply with a swing.

"Okay, here we go!"

The men pile up a wad of bills before the day, as invited by the tantalizing voice. Some are scorched and some are bloody. It is "loot" brought from the "battlefield". It is the custom of their predecessors that they often brought money, although they did not have much space or time to spend. Members of the underworld are obsessed with money.

"The pieces are ready. The game. Niroku no Ding!"

When the two dice emerged from under the bowl, the men cheered and sighed. Soma looked at him coldly. Although it was a life that could not be known tomorrow, they were both silly and funny, as they could be happy and sad like the eyes of a rhinoceros.

When…

Soma noticed that one of them did not tremble.

Their synonyms for black suits have been removed to expose the upper body. The impressive Japanese carved tattoos on his back, however, were mostly covered in red-black burns.

"Purgatory" Sword No. 3, Hiiragi Toma.

Soma's target person.

While he was sitting with one knee upright, Hiiragi was rolling a saber onto his side. He must have been stolen from "Scepter 4" during the last conflict. Like a swordsman, even the people of "Purgatory", who have an image of evil, are keeping a distance.

After breathing for a bit, Soma stood next to Hiiragi.

"Are you not feeling well, Hiiragi?"

"……"

Hiiragi looked at Soma with only his eyes. Eyes like a light buried in ash. Soma accepted the pressure of the line of sight, which would be to pass out just by looking directly at an ordinary person, with a smile.

"I have something I want to ask you. You have a little time, right?"

"Let's do it later."

Hiiragi replied briefly. Soma looked at the tatami in front of Hiiragi and shrugged slightly.

"Oh, that's right. Well, I'll wait for you here."

He took the cigarette out of the pack and lit it with the "lighter" to the left of him. Soma vaguely eyed the entire gambling house, smoking purple smoke. It was like the air that swayed there. A kind of atmosphere that is natural for "Purgatory" to breathe.

That's it.

"The pieces are ready. The game."

The hand, swinging the bowl, tried to reveal the rhino's eyes.

A steel-colored saber crashed against the tatami.

"Eh, aaaaaaaaaaagh?!"

Along with the screams, the finger swinging the bowl, rolled. Fresh blood overflowed from the cross section, staining the tatami mats red and black. As he distorted his face in severe pain, he was still screaming in anger.

"Well what are you doing, Hiiragi?"

He shook the saber like a great snake and cut his hand in half, but Hiiragi's face didn't show any change. The holly was fluffy, with a dull top.

"Soma."

"Oh?"

"In our group, I did this for the madman."

Soma laughed as he smoked a cigarette.

This guy must have been a newcomer who had just entered "Purgatory." If he had met a human named Hiiragi even if he was a little bit, he would never have been able to imitate such behavior. Or maybe it could just be an accurate statement, maybe he just wanted to use it as an excuse to use violence

Well, it doesn't matter what it is. Soma tossed the cigarette to the ground and stomped on it with the toe of his shoe.

"It is not a game; do you think such an answer is valid just because you are an executive?"

Hiiragi didn't reply anything with a serious expression. As he gritted his teeth in anger, he stepped on the mat with his left foot. From the burns that cover that story, a flame of extraordinary skill coiled vigorously.

A red light flashed on Soma's left hand.

A high-pressure, high-temperature "whip" that stretches freely at his will. Squirming like a snake targeting his prey, the light shot through his left eye and leaped through the back of his head as it was.

The mutilated body, which lost its brain function, fell.

Hiiragi looked at Soma. That hand was still holding the saber.

"Don't do extra things."

Soma snorted like a fool.

"If you go crazy, it's hard to clean up afterwards. Wear that fine style only outside."

His ability is activated from the tattoo engraved on his back. His power as a combat afterburner was not used in such a room.

Hiiragi kept looking at Soma, but when he looked away as if he had lost interest, he stopped there.

"Clean it up."

"Yes."

Several members of the clan took control and began to clean the tatami mats, bundles and corpses surrounded by gushing blood. There is nothing to blame for the violence. Hiiragi is an executive, not because he is a newcomer to the place, but because Hiiragi is stronger.

There is nothing in "Purgatory" that can be called order. There is only one measure of strong or weak. Those who fought and survived are strong, and those who died are weak. And the weak and the dead are equally useless. That was the only reason the clan welcomed the "King of Violence".

"So, what?"

At Hiiragi's question, Soma finally remembered his business.

"Oh, yeah. Where is the other one who was with you now?"

"......"

"Baraki...?"

Hiiragi frowned. The guy should have been attached to Hiiragi's subordinates, but he doesn't seem to remember him.

Soma was shocked and explained in a way that Hiiragi could understand.

"Look, he came in a few months ago, "right hand" and..."

"Oh, that boy."

Humans who have received the installation of the "Red King" will surely destroy a part of his body with vicious energy as if reflecting the nature of Kagutsu. In Soma it was the little finger of the left hand, in Hiiragi's case it was the back and in Baraki's case it was the right hand.

The damaged part also serves as a means to activate different abilities. Sometimes it is quicker to say what he lost than to remember his face.

Hiiragi shook his head slightly.

"I don't know. I haven't seen him in a while."

"That's right. My subordinate."

"I don't remember who lived and who died."

In "Purgatory", the death of a member of the clan is a daily event. Some die in battle with "Scepter 4", while others die in the inner circle of clan members, like the guy above. It seems that the martial arts group does not intend to remind the staff to be replaced to metabolize.

"He's either dead or trapped. It's not a weird story."

"Well, that's correct. I'm sure I haven't seen any other guys, and I'm sure they're gone."

"What's wrong with that guy?"

Looking back at Hiiragi's emotionless eyes, Soma shrugged.

"I got information to make money, but it seems they didn't tell me everything. So I thought I'd listen to you."

In this case, it would be more accurate to say "listen to the body" rather than "listen to the story." Hiiragi is also a person who originally belonged to an antisocial organization. So the story was fast.

"So he flew. Do you want to chase him?"

Not many members of the clan escape from "Purgatory". Originally, all who enter are daredevils who have no place in this world. There they can burn your life.

It is a group of lost people who do not know about the life and death of the moment, but there are exceptions to everything.

"I am sorry..."

Soma put his hand on his chin and pondered. From his own information from the registry, the question is whether traitors and fugitives can be left alone. "Purgatory" is not oscillating.

First of all, Kagutsu himself, who is the "King", must make him wonder if he doesn't believe that he belongs to the organization.

"So if you see him, you take a suitable frame."

"I understood."

Hiiragi laughed slightly. In fact, it is an order to kill. For Hiiragi, who has fallen from an antisocial organization to "Purgatory", the only thing that can burn his life is the exchange of lives with others.

As he held the saber, Hiiragi walked calmly. Seeing his back, Soma lit a cigarette again and inhaled purple smoke.

++++++++++

As he walked down the back alley so as not to expose himself, Noriya Baraki looked back many times.

There were no other figures than Baraki among the buildings where he rained heavily. Still, he couldn't shake the illusion that someone was chasing him, and he walked quickly with his shoulders hunched.

The dirty clothes that he was wearing, he took off a homeless person with bad luck, and although he smelled strong, he could not do otherwise. The black suit is synonymous with "Purgatory", he cannot wear such a thing forever.

He is no longer a member of "Purgatory".

Baraki belonged to "Purgatory" for the same reason that he joined the Ashima group. He thought it was a gathering of strong people. This is because there is one side that can exploit the weak as they please. So he gave Soma most of the information about the "assets" that he knew about and asked him to put them in the "Burning House". Even if he lost his right hand, he thought that, if he was a proof of a strong man, it would be like losing his little finger.

But…

Baraki realized that he was wrong.

"Purgatory" is not a group of strong men. It was a group of abnormal people.

The violence they wielded at will sometimes robbed the members themselves. Those facing the sword were killed. Those who fear were killed. And the unfortunate one was killed. Kagutsu Genji. That monster called "King" caused death and destruction just by being there. Literally, in "Purgatory", everyday life was next to death.

It is not an environment that can be tolerated by a decent nervous owner. Either they will die early or they will run away. And it's just one of them on a sunny day.

Baraki looked back again.

"Scepter 4" is not the only enemy of "Purgatory". Many anti-social organizations that establish conflicts, almost at random, also see "Purgatory" as their enemy. Similarly, those who strayed from there tended to be attacked more fiercely because there was no reception from the organization.

That is why he must hurry. Get what he wants and fly somewhere far away.

North or south, anywhere, out of reach of those monsters, somewhere far away.

When Baraki turned around for the third time, he appeared in the alley.

"Hey, Baraki."

While he was wearing the black suit, he was laughing, or not. He looks like he was laughing. Burns that jump from the edge of his lips to his temples make his face look like a smile.

"I've been looking for you. Where are you going?"

When he took a step to start running, his foot stopped. One in a black suit with a saber in hand blocked the way. The hand without the saber was badly burned, leaving only two fingers.

They both had familiar faces. They were under Hiiragi's orders.

The one with his "fingers" gasped.

"Hiiragi-san is looking for you."

The one with the burned "lips", he said.

"Which is better, being alive or charred? I'll let you choose according to the kindness of your former colleague."

Baraki put his right hand to his chest.

His heart was pounding hard like a bell and his usual face was bleeding. There was no escape because he was surrounded from the front and the back.

That means this alley, where he completely rains, has become his death.

From the moment he ran away, he had a feeling this would happen.

"Purgatory", "Scepter 4", Kagutsu Genji, Habari Jin. From the moment he got involved in the war of monsters that manipulated different abilities like burning dust, it was confirmed that his fate would be like this.

But still, he didn't want to die. He wanted to live.

Just that feeling propelled Baraki out of the swamp of despair. Baraki may have been small, but they weren't stupid enough to think they could live without doing anything.

If you want to live, you have to fight. It is a lodging business that is also run by those born in this world.

A flame came out of Baraki's right hand.

Guren's palm, which is one size larger than that of humans. The only weapon Baraki possessed colored the alleys that smoked in the rain red.

"Ku."

"Lips" in the back he laughed, and "fingers" in front of him raised his burned hand in front of his face and muttered.

"Yes. You will be charred."

(That's what will happen to you!)

Instead of yelling, he spat, and Baraki kicked the ground and raised his fiery hand towards "fingers".

++++++++++

Under the eaves in front of the station, Hase waited with his bag.

He had been raining lightly since morning, but he didn't have an umbrella due to Hase's nature. As he practiced, Mishakuji suddenly remembered that he was waving a wooden sword while turning into a wet mouse, regardless of whether it was raining or snowing.

Hase noticed Yukari and smiled.

"Oh. You came, Yukari. It's early!"

As Yukari smiles, he tips his umbrella and walks over to Hase.

"Sensei. There are still 30 minutes until the meeting time."

He hears that the place they were heading to from now on, where Miwa Ichigen lives, was in the mountains, which took almost half a day from here. However, Hase's luggage was a bad backpack and there seemed to be no decent change of clothes. With a strange look, Hase also looked at the carrying bag dropped by Yukari with similar eyes.

However, there is only one thing the two people have in common.

Yukari has a sheath that hangs from his shoulder and Hase has a sheath that hangs from his back. To put it the other way around, if you have this, you don't need any other luggage.

"Did you say hello to Sayuri-san before you left?"

Hase wondered such a thing as they entered the station together. Yukari shook his head.

"No, it looks like she was drinking late last night, so I left without saying hello."

"Haha, that's right. Well, it's the beginning of her beloved son. Maybe we all wanted to celebrate."

"It doesn't mean I won't be back."

Hase slaps Yukari's wet back with his big palm.

"I know, I know! You are a man of your word, don't worry!"

Having said that, he laughed at his arrogance.

Dissatisfied Yukari's lips were sharp. Still, it wasn't as frustrating as It used to be. He can always go back to "Nibangai". He will always be able to find the people who live there. That is why Yukari was motivated to take a step into a larger world, as they expected.

He only knows Miwa Ichigen from Hase's story. He's not an eloquent person, but his sword skills were the most beautiful thing Yukari had ever seen in his life. Every time he thought of Miwa's sword, who made Hase say, "I've never seen anything more beautiful than that.", he was excited.

He wanted to see it as soon as possible and, if possible, he would like to make adjustments and acquire it. Driven by painful expectations, Yukari was encouraged and headed for the ticket vending machine.

A roar echoed from a distance.

"……"

A heavy and low sound, like the sound of the earth. Yukari stopped and turned to that side.

The moment he instinctively felt that "Nibangai" was in the right direction, he heard the second sound.

It was a continuous roar. The sound of something exploding and burning, like you heard in war movies. Perhaps Hase noticed that, he turned his face towards him with his dull expression.

The two jumped out of the station at the same time.

Black smoke billowed in the direction of "Nibangai" past the shops and multi-tenant buildings lined up in front of the station. When swallowed it, a red-black explosion broke out many times. At the sight of the rain, the reflection of the flames that stained the streets red was reflected in Yukari's eyes like something terrible.

"Hey, Yukari! Wait!"

Hase's voice came from behind and, for the first time, Mishakuji realized that he was running.

Still, his legs didn't stop. He dropped the bag that was obstructive, and just grabbed the wooden sword that he had taken out of the sheath, Yukari ran in a straight line. Heading for his hometown, "Nibangai" surrounded by smoke and flames.

#k #k project #k side purple #mishakuji yukari #k fan clan

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