#Unfortunately for her he's creative and would not give her the satisfaction of a head on fight | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

badboyjuyeon · 4 years ago

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mind reader

Pairing: Chanhee x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: “One day in class you decide to scream something in your head to catch mind readers. As you do you see your crush flinch.”

prompt credits to writing.prompt.s

Eyes glued to the clock, you counted down the seconds before class would start.

It’s not that you particularly enjoyed English or any of the books you were discussing. Your teacher constantly droned on and on and, with practice, you had finally mastered the art of tuning his voice out.

So it wasn’t exactly the class that you looked forward to, but a special person within that class.

And that person was Choi Chanhee, who had just entered with his bag slung lazily across his shoulder. Though his hair was ruffled and he was sweaty from gym class, he still looked as radiant as ever. He flashed his signature smile, the one that melted your heart, and waved at Changmin who had saved a seat for him.

Pretty people “herd” together, so it’s not a surprise that he often hung out with Younghoon, Sunwoo, and Changmin, the other popular boys that stole the hearts of every person in the school, including yours. You accepted that this crush would not go far because of his popularity, and you were perfectly content with just enjoying his presence.

Before seeing him fifth-period four days of the week, you had only ever seen him in the hallways. You never had any real reason to talk to him, and given the chance, you’re not sure you would even try to hold a conversation with him. You know you would just become a stuttering mess and embarrass yourself. So instead of making any real efforts to do something about your crush, you just made sure to come to class a few minutes early so you could secure the seat that gave you the best view of him.

Your English class was currently doing student-led discussions and your teacher claimed arranging the seats in a circle would help the students interact more with each other. You hated student discussions but had no complaints sitting in a circle, as it allowed you the perfect excuse to steal glances at Chanhee from any angle.

Currently seated within the circle that seemed more like an oval, all of the students tried their hardest not to unintentionally make eye contact with the person sitting across from them. Your teacher introduced the topic the class would be discussing and you doodled at the corner of your page, letting your hand move on its own accord. Your doodles often reflected whatever you were thinking of, so your page was filled with drawings of the pink-haired boy you were currently infatuated with.

The person sitting next to you spoke up, reminding you that you were still in class and needed to contribute to the discussion.

You spoke once to satisfy the participation requirements and tried to ignore the feeling of everyone’s eyes on you. That feeling was 10 times worse knowing that Chanhee was one of the people that was looking straight at you. You avoided looking in his direction, knowing that you would completely freeze up at the mere thought of him. His eyes were finally off of you when you finished speaking, but that didn’t stop your heart from racing. It would take another five minutes before your heart would return to its normal pace.

Having participated, you were now free to be alone with your thoughts.

Running out of creativity to doodle, you decided that you would play a game with yourself to pass the time. This game never failed to amuse you during all of the boring classes you’ve taken. You scanned the room to see what some of your peers were doing. Younghoon was currently speaking, Chanhee was dozing off into space, the girl from your biology class was very clearly trying to flirt with Sunwoo, who was ignoring her.

You decided that Sunwoo would be the first person you tested. This game consisted of you trying to find out if anyone in the room could read your mind.

Sunwoo if you can hear me, write down something in your notebook.

You took notice of Sunwoo’s immediate actions, which would prove if he could listen to your thoughts.

He picked up his pen.

Your eyes widened as you waited to see what he would do next.

He started fiddling with the pen mid-air, and it never ended up touching the paper.

Sunwoo was not in fact a mind reader. You moved on to your next test subject.

You shifted your undivided attention towards Younghoon, who had just finished speaking. He was staring at his notebook, the corner of the page curling underneath his fingers.

If you can hear my thoughts, look at me within the next three seconds.

You counted down and waited to see if he would prove himself to be a mind reader. Younghoon raised his head and his eyes scanned the circle.

You sat up in your chair as you waited to see if he had heard you.

Unfortunately, his eyes did not land on you as he chose to focus on the classmate that was currently speaking.

You slumped back down into your chair. This game was not as fun as it used to be. Either no one was a mind reader or they were too good at pretending not to hear you.

I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME AND I’LL CATCH YOU.

You screamed in your thoughts, looking around to see if anyone noticed.

Chanhee, who was still staring into space, suddenly flinched.

What the f-

And then Chanhee’s eyes met yours.

You immediately shifted your gaze to focus on the notebook on your lap. He never looked at you if you weren’t speaking, the timing was all too suspicious. You made sure not to look up from your notebook for the rest of class or think about him, just in case.

After the teacher dismissed the class, you hurriedly packed up your belongings and rushed out of class. But your shoelaces did not cooperate, and you knelt down to tie them. You heard a soft voice call your name from behind you. A voice that you knew all too well.

Why was Chanhee trying to talk to you, today of all days?

There was only one answer. Chanhee was actually a mind reader and he knew about your crush. He was coming to confront you. You quickly shoved your shoelaces in your shoe and ran out the school building, not looking back.

Chanhee watched as you dashed out the school doors, the notebook that had fallen out of your backpack in his hands. He was sure he called your name loud enough but he reasoned that you probably hadn’t heard him with how hectic the hallway was. He placed your notebook in his locker and reminded himself to give it to you before the next class.

You slammed your locker shut, startling the student next to you. You lost your notebook for English class that you’ve reused since freshman year. Sighing, you headed into English class with a substitute notebook and the motive to pay attention, since you didn’t have any of your notes. You searched for the one person that could instantly lift your spirits.

“Chanhee?” Your teacher called out during attendance, waiting for his response.

You quickly glanced around the room to see where Chanhee was seated, but to your dismay, he was nowhere to be found.

On the bright side, you could think about Chanhee all you wanted without worrying about whether he could hear your thoughts. You breathed a sigh of relief and leaned back in your chair.

“Present.”

Hearing the familiar voice, you looked up to see Chanhee standing in the doorway, out of breath, as he rushed towards his seat. You dared not to make eye contact with him again.

You wondered why he stopped to call your name after the last time you had class. There was a chance that he wasn’t actually calling your name and that you might have just imagined it.

But you were quick to dismiss the theory that it was all in your imagination when Chanhee called out to you again after class. The hallway was rather empty and you couldn’t use the chaos as an excuse to avoid him. You nervously turned around to face him. This was technically the first time you spoke to him.

“Hi, (y,n) right? Is this your notebook?” He held out a notebook that looked a little too similar to your missing English notebook. “I think you dropped it after class yesterday.”

You took the notebook from him and sure enough, it was yours. Finding your lost notebook should have filled you with satisfaction, but that was the last thing you were feeling. The doodles of him scattered throughout the pages flashed in your mind. You immediately snapped the notebook shut.

“Thank you so much.” You managed to say, hoping that he hadn’t flipped through the notebook.

He gave you a small smile, unaware of your internal panic. “No problem.”

Not knowing whether to continue the conversation or not, you also smiled, before turning to walk away.

“Oh, and by the way, I know what you’re thinking...”

What- there’s no way. How would he know what I was thinking? Oh my god. Is he an actual mind re-

You stopped in your tracks, grateful that you were turned around so he couldn’t see the sheer look of horror on your face.

You faced him and prepared yourself for what he would say next.

“...You’re probably wondering how I knew it was your notebook.” He looked down at your notebook, which you held protectively against your chest.

Not expecting the words that came out of his mouth, you giggled. The question hadn’t actually crossed your mind, so it was good to know that he was NOT an actual mind reader. Your name was not on the cover, so it was a valid question to wonder.

“I wasn’t wondering but, now that you mention it, how did you know?“

“I recognized your art style from the doodles on the cover. You’re really talented.” He continued to speak comfortably as if you had known each other for years. Your art teacher often hung up your drawings in the art classroom for everyone to see, but you were surprised that he had recognized your art style.

“Thanks, that means a lot to me.” You finally found the courage to hold eye contact with him. You were confused as to why he kept continuing this conversation when it could have ended much earlier with little-to-no words involved.

The corner of his lips lifted into a smirk and a mischievous spark glinted in his eyes. He cleared his throat, “I like my eggs scrambled in the morning...if you were still wondering.”

Eggs scrambled in the morning?

Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion as you tried to remember why that expression sounded so familiar. Or why he claimed you would be wondering that.

Chanhee bit back a smile, as he saw your expression change from confused to panicked in a matter of seconds. Your cheeks turned as pink as his hair.

You were just joking when you claimed that Chanhee was a mind reader, but now you were starting to think that it wasn’t a joke anymore. How do you like your eggs in the morning? That sounds exactly like something you would think.

“What...how did you...“ You struggled to form a coherent sentence.

Instead of answering, he just shrugged and backed away, before heading to his next class. He left you standing in the middle of the hallway unsure of what to believe.

Remembering the notebook that was still pressed against your chest, suddenly it clicked. He had seen the last page of your notebook.

The last page was where you wrote absolute nonsense to relieve your boredom during class. You used to write notes back and forth with your best friend back in freshman year. She would talk about her crush on Changmin and you would talk about yours on Chanhee.

That means he read all about your crush on him. Of all the ways you imagined him finding out, this was the last and most embarrassing way ever. There was no way to save yourself in this situation.

chanhee is so gorgeous

changmin is SO FINE

i wonder how chanhee likes his eggs in the morning

i want changmin’s number so bad

You cursed your younger, boy-obsessed self for setting you up like this. You groaned, any chance you had with Chanhee was officially out the window.

Rereading the page, you noticed that there was a new addition to your conversation with your friend. The unfamiliar handwriting did not match yours or your best friend’s, and the ink seemed to be fresh.

idk about changmin’s but i can give you mine: XXX-XXX-XXXX

p.s. i want you to draw me like one of your french girls

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xx-thedarklord-xx · 4 years ago

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Curiosity Killed Everything

Harry almost didn’t open it.

After the war love letters flooded in, and quite frankly, he was sick of it. Part of him thought it was sweet, but the rest was annoyed. Where were the love letters before? Why wait until after? Obviously it had to do with who he was as a namesake and not personally.

But as he sat at the Gryffindor table, the ripped envelope drew his attention—almost as if the sender hadn’t bothered to care about its appearance. That and it was addressed to ‘idiot’.

Curiosity was the only reason he opened it.

‘I can’t stand you.’

That was it.

Harry frowned as he turned it over, expecting more on the back. Nothing. He re-opened the envelope, trying to see if maybe there was something else included. No, it was empty.

I can’t stand you. Nothing more.

He couldn’t help it, Harry snorted.

Someone took time out of their day to send a hate letter. One so short. It intrigued Harry more than offended him. He was sure a lot of people didn’t like him, but not many were vocal about it.

He should throw it away. What was the point of keeping it? But there was something funny about the whole situation.

Curiosity was the only reason he pocketed the letter.

———————————-

The longer he stayed at Hogwarts the more he realized Ron was right and that he shouldn’t have come back for a final year. Sure, Hermione did, but she liked schoolwork.

Without Ron by his side, Hogwarts was pretty boring.

The sound of hundreds of birds swooping in signaled mail call. A glance up brought in a new ripped envelope and his lips were already twitching.

Well… maybe not as boring as he thought.

With zero patience, Harry ripped open the envelope, barely paying attention to the owl.

‘Do you even own a hairbrush?’

Without realizing it, his hand ran through his hair absentmindedly. He scowled at the note. Of course he did. It was just that it didn’t matter how many times he combed it, his hair had a mind of its own.

He glared at the note, but yet, still didn’t throw it away.

Curiosity was to blame, probably.

—————————

Mail time was beginning to become his favourite part of the day, and Harry wasn’t sure what that said about him. His secret hater amused him.

‘Your glasses are hideous. They were too big for you at eleven and you’ve still yet to grow into them.’

‘Your pension for danger is appalling, but perhaps Karma for making me have to put up with your existence.’

‘Your not as good at magic as people think you are.’

‘Everytime you open your mouth, I lose brain cells.’

For reasons that were definitely not due to curiosity, Harry had kept all of the notes. Weeks of daily insults were kept in a safe space inside his nightstand. He wasn’t sure what he could blame that on, but whatever it was, he wasn’t going to blame himself.

—————————-

‘You look like a cross between doxy droppings and a passable excuse for a human.’

Harry had barely stopped laughing when Hermione sat next to him for breakfast for the first time in weeks.

“What’s got you in a good mood today?”

“Nothing.”

He tried to move the letter away but was too slow. Quick hands snatched it off the table.

“Harry,” Hermione began with pursed lips and an angry merging of her brows. “What is this?”

“I reckon I’ve got a secret admirer,” Harry said, not able to keep a straight face at all.

Hermione arched her brows over the top of the letter. “They think you look like doxy shit.”

“Perhaps admirer was too strong of a word.”

“Some people are so pathetic,” said Hermione as she shook her head and glared at the note. “What a waste of time.”

“Wait,” Harry said far too loudly when it looked like she was going to crumple it. “I want to keep that.”

“Keep it?” Her tone wasn’t quite flabbergasted, but it was close. “Why on Earth would you want to keep it?”

Harry shrugged as he pulled the note from her hands. “I find them charming, kind of.”

“Doxy shit,” Hermione reminded him slowly. “What is charming about that?”

It was hard to explain his thoughts, so Harry didn’t try. He wasn’t sure himself why he kept them. The letters weren’t exactly nice—okay not nice at all—but they were becoming a constant in his daily routine. Whoever sent them had strong opinions, and a lot of it came off as teasing in a way. Or at least familiar. Whoever it was, knew him, and knew him well.

They could be nicer, but the chances of that were pretty slim.

For whatever reason, he liked the notes, rudeness and all.

————————-

The only other thing that brought enjoyment to his days was Potions class. Oh, he still sucked at it, but that was part of the fun.

“Are you even trying?” Snarled Malfoy, who unfortunately was assigned as his partner for the year. “I don’t even know what this is supposed to be.”

“Erm,” Harry peered into the cauldron. “I think it’s a cheering charm.”

“You think,” deadpanned Malfoy. “A cheering charm isn’t supposed to be the consistency of clay.”

Clay. Harry raised a finger to feel it for himself but before he could his hand was slapped away.

“What are you doing?” Huffed Malfoy, eyes wide. “Whatever you made could be dangerous.”

“You do care,” Harry said as he placed a hand on his chest and batted his lashes.

Malfoy looked seconds away from hexing him, and Harry kinda wanted to push him to that point.

“Lose a limb for all I care,” Malfoy said haughtily before storming off to the supply closet. “Not as if having them did anything for you in the first place.”

Harry refused snort, not wanting to give Malfoy the satisfaction. Instead, he focussed on poking the potion. Clay was a pretty accurate descriptor. Whatever it had started out as, it was not a potion anymore.

“You think I could craft something out of this?” Asked Harry when Malfoy returned and began the potion all over again. “I reckon I’ve got some creativity somewhere inside me.”

Malfoy took a deep breath, one that made Harry think he was trying to calm down.

“You know, I truly lose brain cells whenever you speak.”

Harry froze, the familiar words causing his brain to work in overdrive before blanking completely.

No. There’s no way...

When Harry didn’t respond Malfoy looked at him curiously. “Finally, you’ve been rendered speechless. Maybe I can accomplish something today. Not that you’d know what that’s like, Merlin knows how incompetent you are.”

Well, on second thought.

The rest of the lesson passed in a blur, Harry’s mind too distracted to focus on anything else.

Was his secret hater really Malfoy?

It would make sense. Who else insulted him on a daily basis? Why not add it in other forms as well?

But why?

Why bother sending anything at all. It wasn’t like Malfoy ever passed up an opportunity to insult him. And daily? That took dedication.

Was Harry really on Malfoy’s mind like that?

———————

‘You would look a lot better in some decent robes. You have the fashion sense of an old Muggle a breath away from keeling over.’ That one was almost kind. When Harry looked toward the Slytherin table, he was surprised to see Malfoy already staring at him. They locked eyes—briefly—before Malfoy glanced away, cheeks rosy. Huh. That was new. Harry traced the note with his fingers, still unsure why he kept the stupid things. They intrigued him, but was that all that did? Another glance toward Malfoy had him unable to lie to himself. Malfoy intrigued him too, always had. Perhaps it was curiosity’s fault after all.

——————

Draco pushed his vegetables across the plate, mind focused on the pile of Charms homework that he still had to do. Flitwick didn’t have to assign that much, the prick.

It wasn’t until the normal chatter of other students talking disappeared that he realized something was wrong.

When he glanced up, Draco jerked a little at the sight of Potter standing on the other side of the table.

“You lost little Gryffindor?”

Potter rolled his eyes before extending a hand.

Draco took a shaky breath when he realized it was a note, the same size that he sent every morning. With equally shaky fingers, Draco took the parchment and flipped it over.

‘I can’t stand you either.’

There was a tiny smile on Potter’s face that didn’t match the sentiment. But Draco believed him.

“How much?” Draco asked, unable to quash the rising curiosity.

“I’m not sure,” Potter shrugged. “But I imagine we can figure out together.”

That wasn’t a good idea, but Draco’s life was a series of bad ideas.

What could one more hurt?

#Drarry #draco malfoy #harry potter #hate notes #Lmaoo

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lisatelramor · 2 years ago

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Crossing Borders Ch3

Sorry for not posting on wednesday. My computer got broken irreparably on monday and i've spent all week getting a new one and transferring files over. Today involved almost 3.5 hours of driving because the store is 45 mins away give or take a bit on traffic. T_T I had to go back because I got home and couldn't find my files. Turns out for some reason the new microsoft system defaults to cloud--including desktop--and wasn't bringing any of my files up when I searched either -_-;;; I have had very high cortisol levels this last week. Sigh. Anyway, enjoy this chapter, guys!

There were few things Lan Zhan disliked about being a cultivator. He enjoyed the fulfilment he got from training, the pleasant burn of well-used muscles and the peace of a long meditation session. He enjoyed the challenge of a night hunt and knowing he was protecting people. He enjoyed his sect’s musical cultivation and the creative outlet it gave him. He even enjoyed, to some extent, the myriad of rules, because they gave life structure—even if by this point in his life he also had come to the conclusion that some rules were more worthwhile than others.

What Lan Zhan did not enjoy was dealing with people. Unfortunately, being a cultivator could occasionally require a lot of that. While he had grown to have some satisfaction in teaching, distraught, anxious, grieving people were not a demographic he ever found easier to deal with.

“What do you mean he’s dead?” Wan Haoran, one of the victim’s friends asked, his face not as upset as Lan Zhan would have expected considering he just received news of his friend’s demise. “He was just with us in the pottery hall less than two hours ago.”

“Unfortunately,” Lan Zhan repeated, “there was an accident.”

“What kind of accident?” Chen Xinyi asked. She, at least, looked properly upset. Her face was pale and pinched with anxiety. She had been dating the victim, if he remembered correctly.

“He fell off one of the cliffs off-trail,” Wei Ying said bluntly at Lan Zhan’s side. “Do you have any idea why he might have been wandering in the mountain alone and far from the walking trails?”

Chen Xinyi shook her head, tears building in her eyes that she didn’t let fall. “I. No… He was. He was upset. Needed to go on a walk, he’d said, but. He was planning to join us for dinner and never showed up.”

“I guess now we know why,” Li Zihan said, the last member of their group sitting on one of the corner beds in the room. She looked tired, resigned, like bad news was one more thing on top of many bad things. “I thought he just needed more time to cool down. He feels things—felt things… strongly, you know? Sometimes he needed to go on his own for a while until he evened out again.”

“He always tried to follow what he said he’d do though,” Chen Xinyi said. The tears spilled over, sliding down her cheek uninhibited.

“Did something trigger his poor mood?” Lan Zhan asked. “The monitors in the group activities you were present in did not notice anything unusual with his behavior during the program.”

The group collectively hesitated, and Wei Ying clearly honed in on it, leaning forward.

“So something did upset him,” Wei Ying said. “During or after the activities?”

“…After,” Li Zihan grunted. “It was my fault. I shouldn’t have mentioned some things.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Wan Haoran argued. “It’s ridiculous to act like nothing happened and just forget—”

“Forget what?” Wei Ying said, frustration making his voice sharp.

None of them could look them in the face. Chen Xinyi twisted a handkerchief, its edges already wet through.

“About a month ago, one of our friends died,” Wan Haoran said after a long moment. “They were really close. Shen Ming knew him from before college, and of all of us I think he was taking the death the worst. It’s actually why we decided to come here. Everything we read said this place was good for calming strong emotions and finding peace. We thought…” He trailed off.

“I shouldn’t have brought up Huang Fang,” Li Zihan said. “It’s just… he was looking calmer and I didn’t even think… It was a good memory of him. We should be able to remember the good without focusing on the tragedy.”

“People do not recover the same way, or in a straightforward manner,” Lan Zhan said. His own grief over his parents—his mother’s death, father’s neglect, and his father’s eventual death—had taken a long time to process. Presumably, Shen Ming could have recovered over time. Instead, he’d been killed before he could finish working through those emotions. It was sad, but also a little worrisome; their victim had more reasons than his murder to hold resentment past his death.

“May I ask how your friend died?” Wei Ying said, remaining focused on the important things even as Lan Zhan let himself be distracted. “I know it’s probably not something you want to think about…”

“He…fell,” Chen Xinyi said. “Not off a cliff. But.”

“He suicided,” Li Zihan said heavily. “Or at least that’s what it seemed to be. Shen Ming was there. Couldn’t talk him down.”

“You don’t think it was suicide?” Wei Ying asked, catching her wording. “Do you think Shen Ming pushed him?”

“He wouldn’t!” Chen Xinyi said immediately, eyes wide and horrified at the mere thought. “He was so devastated after! They were like brothers…”

To the side, Wan Haoran shifted, uncomfortable. Lan Zhan studied the pinched tension in his face and jaw. Remembering the event? Or something else entirely?

“Either way, the result is the same,” Li Zihan said. “They’re both dead now… Did. Did Shen Ming… Did it look like he…?”

“I do not think he went out there intending to die,” Lan Zhan said as gently as he was able. Wei Ying was better with sympathy, but he’d been told in the past that sometimes a calm, even tone could be just as helpful.

“An accident then,” Chen Xinyi said, sniffling. “He must have slipped…”

Lan Zhan exchanged a glance with Wei Ying, neither of them offering the true cause of death for the moment. There was still the uncomfortable look on Wan Haoran’s face, and too many questions to say that these people weren’t also involved in some way.

“Oh yeah,” Wei Ying said, like a thought had only just occurred to him. “We found an odd wooden bead on him; would you know anything about that?”

Recognition. Chen Xinyi’s hand twitched toward her chest—right about where a pendant would be—and her two friends also twitched.

“The bead was Huang Fang’s,” Wan Haoran said after a moment. “He had a bracelet of prayer beads his grandfather gave him that he wore everywhere. When he died, most of the bracelet was ruined, but we each kept a bead. To remember, you know?”

Lan Zhan resisted the urge to pinch his brow and sigh. Prayer beads that were emotionally significant to their owner, that had been worn regularly, and then died with him. That would definitely be enough for a ghost to latch onto. Although, why only Shen Ming had been affected was unclear. Now at least one bead had two deaths in its existence, and could possibly be on its way to a resentful artifact if they were unlucky.

“Huh,” Wei Ying said, leaning forward. “Would you mind showing me one?”

“That’s a little insensitive,” Wan Haoran said, one wrist pulling close to his body where he must have his bead. He looked at Wei Ying, cold and accusative. “Our friend died, so soon after another, and you want to look at a bead?”

“Ah, sorry, sorry.” Wei Ying held up his hands apologetically. “It just felt significant.”

“Well it’s not.” Wan Haoran shifted in front of his friends. “Unless you’re going to let us see his body, I think you should go now.”

“Of course,” Lan Zhan cut in with the slightest of polite nods. “You will be informed when his body can be visited.” He and Wei Ying retreated, the door closing on the sound of Chen Xinyi’s tears starting up in earnest again.

Wei Ying sighed as they left the room behind them. “Well. That could have gone better.”

“Hm. The beads?”

“Probably how that spirit got in. If it’s their friend, there is the question of why he’s targeting them.”

Lan Zhan hummed speculatively. “Perhaps anger over not preventing his death?”

“Or something… Wan Haoran was kind of shifty, did you notice?” Wei Ying’s fingers drummed absently on his crossed arms. “There’s something we are missing about the friendship.”

“I do not think Wan Haoran will reveal what that is.”

“Same.” Wei Ying sighed before nudging Lan Zhan. “If we play Inquiry, do you think our angry spirit will answer? Or should I go plant a spirit trap?”

“First we should add extra warding to the dormitories,” Lan Zhan said. “After… Perhaps Shen Ming’s spirit would remember what occurred at his friend’s death.”

“…Do you think I can get away with some of my specialized talismans?”

Lan Zhan’s lips tipped up at the edges. “If Wei Ying places them very carefully out of view, no one will know.”

“Are you encouraging me to be heretical?” Wei Ying asked, delighted.

“To take all the possible care in protecting our guests,” Lan Zhan corrected.

“Yeah, well your uncle would still skin me if he knew. Ah, I’m such a corrupting force on you!” Wei Ying swooned dramatically.

“Are not.” Lan Zhan let their shoulders bump together gently. “You still have not eaten,” he said into the companionable silence that followed. “Eat, then set talismans.”

“Or I could set talismans, then eat.”

Lan Zhan looked at Wei Ying patiently, knowing he would cave to Lan Zhan’s desire to ensure he was cared for.

“Ah, Lan Zhan, you’re spoiling me again.”

Lan Zhan hummed, content. There might be a crisis going on, but he wasn’t going to let Wei Ying neglect himself if he could help it.

*O*O*

Conan was going to break something. Preferably something on a certain someone. Kid, with his usual level of charisma, had managed to put Ran and Mouri in a good mood with card tricks, four games of poker, and a bunch of random stories that flowed seamlessly into one another, keeping everyone entertained. It was annoying because if it hadn’t been Kid, Conan might have actually found it entertaining.

Because it was Kid, he kept waiting for the other shoe to fall. There had to be something more going on here.

“—field full of bunnies,” Kid said, shuffling cards for a new game—blackjack now as poker had become frustrating. “I admit, I was pretty surprised to see them since this place has all kind of rules against bringing in pets and vegetarianism as the norm, but apparently, they were wild rabbits that became domesticated from people sneaking to feed them or something, and eventually the higher ups caved and made them official protected animals. That was before they got added as part of the therapy program, I think. Fuzzy animals are actually really good for soothing the spirit. Good on the newer generations for thinking outside the meditative box, right?”

Conan huffed. He would love to escape and go looking for clues, but there was no way to sneak off. Even with Kid keeping them entertained, Mouri and Ran were on high alert after Conan snuck off earlier.

“What are you here researching?” Ran asked Kid, taking the cards he dealt comfortably. Conan took his cards grudgingly; he’d tried backing out of games only to be dragged back by Mouri because it would ‘keep him occupied.’

“Ah.” Kid’s smile never faltered. “You know, there’s a huge library here, full of a lot of interesting topics. It’s well-known in certain circles for its obscure texts on the supernatural.”

“So you’re here researching, what? Legends and ghost stories?” Mouri muttered, with a frown at his hand of cards.

“Legends in part,” Kid said, dealing another card when prompted. “It probably seems silly, but legends have fueled humanity’s progress. Chasing better medicines, better weapons, better technology and methods… I ran across a legend in Japan, and was having trouble tracing it. A friend recommended trying here since their records are so comprehensive.”

“It’s also all in Chinese,” Conan said drily. And who knew what dialect or how simplified some of those documents were.

“I can read enough to get a sense of if I have the right topic,” Kid said, “and then there’s several individuals who are more than happy to help me on my research.”

Conan narrowed his eyes. “Was one called Wei Ying by chance?”

“You must have been by the library.” Kid dealt Ran another card at her gesture, then Mouri, who grimaced hard. He had a terrible poker face.

“He looked like he lived there.” Reluctantly, Conan gestured for another card as well. The three he was dealt brought him to twenty; a decently good hand.

“Oh, he basically does. Well, in the library, in the bunny field, or glued to his boyfriend’s side depending on his mood. You wouldn’t know it to look at him, but he’s actually one of the leading minds of his generation in paranormal studies.”

“Great, so he’s a genius with ghost stories,” Mouri said sarcastically. “Sounds real useful for a career.”

“More like exorcisms, warding, and demonic identification, if I’m getting the translation right,” Kid said cheerfully like he’d missed the sarcasm entirely. “He has some fascinating thoughts about the search for immortality.”

Conan might never live down the moment that he shares a commiserating look with Mouri.

“Any more cards?” Kid asked, still cheerful. “No? Well then…” He laid out his cards. Blackjack. Again.

This was the third time in six rounds.

“You’re cheating,” Conan said as he showed his hand. “You’ve won five of the rounds.” This one included because Ran had nineteen and Mouri had busted, going seven over twenty-one. Kid had to be cheating.

“I could be counting cards,” Kid said, returning the hands to the deck, “but I’m not. And I’m not palming them, or cutting the deck in my favor. I just have Lady Luck on my side.”

“Well share a bit of it around because this is getting boring,” Mouri grumbled. “Are they going to keep us here all night, or what?”

“I’m sure they have good reason,” Ran said.

Conan had a twinge of guilt because he hadn’t told them about the murder yet. If he did, Mouri would probably try to swan in on it without even being able to speak to anyone clearly, and muddle everything up even more. He could feel Kid’s glance like a weight as cards shuffled endlessly. Some kind of tic probably.

“I’m sure we’ll be allowed out in the morning,” Kid said.

“Oh, so now you’re inviting yourself to stay the night, too?” Mouri said. “Well, there’s only three beds, so you’re out of luck.”

“I can share with Conan-kun,” Kid said with a friendly grin. “If it comes down to that anyway.”

“I don’t think the beds are big enough to share!” Conan cut in. The idea of being crammed in with Kid onto a cot of a bed was nightmare fuel.

“You’re not that big,” Kid said. “I could take the floor too if sharing is asking too much, but I’d like to save my back if I can.”

“Conan-kun, you can sleep with me,” Ran said.

It was meant to be kind. No one would think anything of a child sleeping beside them. But. Conan felt himself freeze. Sleep next to Ran? With her pressed against him? Just the two of them? “I can take the floor,” he blurted, face probably fire truck red.

Kid snickered, covering the expression innocently when the others looked. Conan scowled at him, not that scowling ever seemed to do anything. “I couldn’t kick you out of your bed,” Kid said, almost convincingly sincere, the bastard.

“I insist,” Conan said, hating him.

“Ah, I have a travel pillow,” Ran said, accepting the change in plans easily enough like she always did. “And there’s a spare blanket… Conan-kun, do you mind using a few towels as a mattress?”

“That’s fine…” Damn Kid, this was a defeat for Conan this time. Next time he’d definitely win though.

The card game was wrapped up and bedding distributed with little discussion after that. Conan grumpily curled up on his ‘mattress’ of towels and uncharitably wished Kid an unpleasant sleep and a crick in the neck.

*O*O*

When the alarm started ringing, Wei Ying was horribly tempted to shove a pillow over his head, burrow closer in Lan Zhan’s arms, and go back to sleep. Unfortunately, this wasn’t their morning alarm clock alarm, but the emergency bell. Again. At—Wei Ying squinted at the soft glow of the alarm clock—four in the morning. Not even the Lan woke at four in the morning.

Naturally, there wasn’t actually a choice in going back to sleep. There certainly wasn’t any burrowing back into Lan Zhan’s arms, because he was already sitting up and reaching for a shirt.

“Why?” Wei Ying asked rhetorically.

Lan Zhan paused where he was slipping on his earlier-discarded socks. He gently tucked a strand of Wei Ying’s bird-nest, slept-on hair behind an ear, hand lingering on Wei Ying’s face. “You do not have to get up.”

Lan Zhan was sweet. Really. As much as Wei Ying wanted to go back to sleep and blissfully leave whatever problem was happening now in someone else’s hands, that wasn’t really an option.

“They might need me,” Wei Ying said forcing himself upright. Ugh. Too early. He was going to have an awful headache, like a sleep hangover. “Want to bet it’s the ghost no one could find earlier?”

Lan Zhan scoffed. “Obvious.”

“I dunno. Could have a couple murderous spirits by now. You never know.”

Wei Ying got yesterday’s pants to the face as Lan Zhan started gathering up clothes for Wei Ying too.

“Peh. Thanks, I wanted dusty denim to the face first thing in the morning.”

“I will grab you coffee later,” Lan Zhan said. He already looked like he hadn’t just rolled out of bed. Wei Ying was wildly jealous of how easily his boyfriend went from ‘disheveled’ to ‘could be in an office or a fashion runway’ with seemingly zero effort. Wei Ying felt lucky if he didn’t look like a bum in the same amount of time.

Shoving his limbs haphazardly into clothing, Wei Ying staggered toward the door. “Wait! No, talismans, talismans…”

Lan Zhan handed him a stack and Suiban at the same time.

“Oh. Thanks.”

His boyfriend took a moment to smooth Wei Ying’s hair out of his face because he was the functional one between the two of them, and then they were hurrying out into the night. Day? Night; the sun wasn’t up yet so it wasn’t morning in his book.

Outside, disciples were poking their heads out or hurrying by, some still in sleep clothes. Unfortunately, the guests were too, and they didn’t look like they were going to cooperate in returning to their beds this time without some sort of explanation.

Wei Ying scanned the crowd for familiar faces. Sure enough, the child from before was wiggling to the front of the group, probably trying to see what was going on. What an annoyingly nosy child. Hadn’t he heard of listening to adults? (Not that Wei Ying had ever been good at that himself, but it was the principle of things.) Add a probable curse to the mix and the kid had the potential to be a danger magnet.

Lan Zhan, much less distractable, caught someone heading from the emergency bell’s direction. “What is happening?”

The girl had a harried look of someone on a mission, but she stopped because Lan Zhan was one of the heirs to the sect. “The body is gone and another guest is dead.”

“Well shit,” Wei Ying said. He was not awake enough for this. “Who died now?”

“Chen Xinyi,” the disciple said, shifting in the way that said she’d be walking away already if it was polite to.

Lan Zhan nodded in thanks. “We won’t keep you longer,” he said, and the girl hurried away before he got all the words out.

“Chen Xinyi is…?” Wei Ying asked, drawing a blank. He wasn’t good with names and faces at the best of times, let alone just after waking up.

“The first victim’s girlfriend,” Lan Zhan said.

“Oh.” Well, double shit then. “Nothing should have gotten past the talismans we set last night.”

“Hm.”

Ugh. Either they had a human hand working in all of this or someone had messed up somewhere with the first corpse. “And the first victim, what, walked off? Killed his girlfriend?”

“We will find out,” Lan Zhan said, as composed as ever.

“Lan Zhan, Wei Ying!” a young voice called. Oh look, there was their cursed child. He elbowed past people’s legs, hurrying over, the guy here to research alchemic immortality behind him looking like he’d rather be somewhere else. Like asleep.

Wei Ying related. “Hey kid. Didn’t we say you should stick with your guardians?”

“Good luck getting him to do that,” the man—ah, what was his name again? Kuroba, right? Kuroba Kaito, jeeze Wei Ying needed caffeine—said. “Edogawa has a reputation.”

“Mr. Kuroba, Edogawa Conan,” Lan Zhan said.

“This brat is going to give Mouri-chan a panic attack, but obviously it’s more important to find out who died now.”

“Shut up!” Edogawa said with a truly impressive scowl.

“Huh.” Wei Ying glanced between them. “I didn’t know you knew each other.”

“Oh,” Kuroba said with a long-suffering look, “we’ve definitely met. So, who’s dead now?”

“What makes you think someone is dead?” Lan Zhan asked, his natural blank face keeping any hint of his thoughts at bay.

Kuroba, who could have just as good of a blank face as Lan Zhan, gave him a deadpan stare. “It’s always someone dying when Edogawa is around.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Edogawa snapped. He looked like a different child than the one Wei Ying met before, but maybe he was just less polite and more aggressive toward people he knew well. “There are plenty of times no one dies. You make it sound like I have corpses falling from the sky when I’m around.”

“Didn’t that happen?” Kuroba said.

“Falling out of a building doesn’t count.”

Oh wow, Wei Ying was getting more concerned for this child by the second, but he really couldn’t even start digging into that problem until they’d done something about the current one. “Yeah, there is someone else dead,” Wei Ying said softly, hoping no one overheard.

“Who?” Edogawa demanded. “Where was the body found? Cause of death?”

Wei Ying looked to Lan Zhan because he really was too tired to deal with this.

“Another from the same group,” Lan Zhan said calm as could be. “We have yet to learn the particulars.”

“I can help,” Edogawa said.

“Oh hell no,” Wei Ying said. It came out in English even though he was thinking it in Mandarin. “We already had this conversation. You’re a child. Children shouldn’t be interacting with corpses.”

“Thank you!” Kuroba said. “I’m so glad someone said it because it’s really unnerving.”

“Oh, come on! You’ve helped me solve cases before!” Edogawa said, glaring up at Kuroba.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you have to solve them! Other people can figure things out!”

Edogawa shot into a furious sounding mess of Japanese that had Kuroba grimacing and rolling his eyes.

Wei Ying was losing patience with this. “Look, you just. Stay. We need to find out what the hell is going on.”

Kuroba grimaced again. “Actually, can we tag along? It’s probably safer than him sneaking out.”

“I thought it was his guardian that was the detective,” Wei Ying said to Lan Zhan in Mandarin. “If this didn’t involve ghosts, I’d say drag him along.”

“It would be better to keep an eye on Edogawa,” Lan Zhan said slowly. “His curse might be part of what is happening.”

“You think? I thought it seemed pretty clearly a spirit with a grudge.”

“Mm, but perhaps the curse has a side effect of boosting resentment. If that were the case…”

“Ah. It would tip a scale from a mild threat to a serious one.”

“And perhaps be enough to lead to people near him to commit murder if they were already contemplating it.”

Well, that was a terrifying thought. It made him want to ask how big a range the deaths this kid ran across. If it was concentrated around where he lived, then there could be a plottable range of a curse’s effects. And it could be cumulative, the longer someone was in the range, the more likely they’d reach the conclusion that murder was the solution to whatever their problem was.

Who the hell even came up with something like that??

“Lan Zhan, I don’t think I’m qualified enough to deal with that level of a curse,” Wei Ying said, exhausted.

“Mm, set it aside for now. One problem at a time.”

“Right.” Just a ghost and maybe a fierce corpse that shouldn’t have been able to become a fierce corpse, and a dead girl and a missing corpse. And a child who might be escalating things by accident just by existing. Lovely. On the other hand, Kuroba had abnormally good luck, finding things in the library that Wei Ying hadn’t even known existed that actually related to what the man was researching. With any luck, maybe some of that good fortune would cancel out some of Edogawa’s and they wouldn’t have any more corpses. “You two,” Wei Ying said, switching back to English to point at the two guests so insistent about tangling themselves up in this mess. “You’re staying with each other at all times. Kuroba, you’re his impulse control. And no one is walking around without a partner.”

“He’s my impulse control?” Edogawa said indignantly.

“I didn’t catch him hanging off a wall to spy on a corpse,” Wei Ying said, “so yes, he’s your impulse control.”

Kuroba grinned. “Oh, I think I can do that. Hear that? I have better control than you, Conan-kun.”

“Do you like your shins? Because you’re going to be bruised all over them if you continue.”

Ignoring that sickeningly sweet threat, Wei Ying caught Lan Zhan’s hand. “C’mon. Your uncle is probably having an aneurism.”

*O*O*

Kaito was having a bad day. Morning? Morning. He was having a bad morning because 1, there was a murder. A second murder. 2, he had an annoying detective to keep track of (for multiple reasons of course). 3, he had slept terribly. 4, the inevitable chaos that followed Edogawa was playing havoc with his research time. And 5, he was on his way to see yet another corpse.

Yippie. Just what he wanted to be doing with his day, right? It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen more than enough dead bodies killed in violent ways in the last year since Edogawa showed up. Not even a year, really. How had his luck failed so badly that Edogawa Conan managed to show up in a remote, selective, semi-religious retreat in a whole different country?

Really, Kaito had been grasping for straws when he asked Akako about different flavors of immortality. He’d fully expected to be brushed off, but he must have caught her at one of her good moods since she’d written him a recommendation to get in here. They followed a different branch of magic, a different religion, and spoke a different language, but magic communities must all be pretty interconnected because when Kaito reached out, he’d gotten a response and permission to look through their library.

Where had Lady Luck gone to land Edogawa in his lap?

Kaito fully expected the disciples hanging around the infirmary to block their way, but a word from Lan Zhan and they stepped aside, letting Kaito and Edogawa stroll right in. If he hadn’t already known that Lan Zhan was the second in line for being the leader of this place—kind of archaic to have familial leaders, like tiny kingdoms, but who was Kaito to judge—then he’d have probably figured it out with that alone.

People respected Lan Zhan. The only truly surprising thing was how often that respect wasn’t extended toward Wei Ying as well considering how likely it looked that he’d be marrying into the family. Or whatever people did in places where gay marriage wasn’t recognized.

If it were Kaito, he’d hop off to America for a bit and get a legally binding Vegas wedding, but that was just wanting to have a legally binding marriage somewhere even if it wasn’t at home.

…Not that he was all that likely to have a gay marriage in the first place.

Anyway. Corpse! There was a freshly murdered—it was definitely murder; there were hand-shaped bruises on the neck—corpse was set up on an exam table like she was a patient. Except that she was very clearly dead. What with the bruises and the unnatural angle of her neck…

Kaito grimaced. At least this wasn’t a bloody sort of murder.

There was a sharp-eyed man watching over the body. He frowned when he caught sight of their group—or more specifically the people that shouldn’t have been part of it. Kaito gave a little wave, like this was just another part of his daily routine. It was honestly not something he was unfamiliar with by this time, which was a depressing thought.

Edogawa, as typical, zeroed in on the body and ignored everything else around him as irrelevant.

The man said something, a question, and Lan Zhan answered in a few curt words. Kaito was working on it, but his spoken and audial comprehension of Mandarin was still playing catch up to his reading skills. Either way, the man guarding the body didn’t stop Edogawa as the brat walked right up and started looking at the body’s throat.

“Is he always like that?” Wei Ying asked, not even bothering to be subtle as he nodded at Edogawa.

“Pretty much.” Kaito sighed. As Edogawa moved on to examining the woman’s wrists—there were a few bruises there too—Lan Zhan pulled a musical instrument from seemingly nowhere. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen the people here bend spatial reality, but it was still made him twitch inside. The magician in him was a little jealous of that kind of technology; imagine the things he could pull off if he wasn’t confined to physical space! The rest of him, the part that prided itself on artistry was annoyed by magical cheats for the sort of thing he would have to pull off with sleight of hand and creative use of mirrors. “What’s that for?” Kaito asked nodding at the string instrument.

“Communication,” Lan Zhan said like that wasn’t the most uncomfortable response he could have had.

Kaito shivered. Yeah, talking to ghosts was now up there with finding a corpse at all.

“It looks like she was killed by someone’s bare hands,” Edogawa said, still focused on the body to the point where he hadn’t even noticed actual magic happening behind him. “You can see the individual finger marks here…” He touched her neck lightly. “But it shouldn’t have been possible to do this much damage. This is… I could expect a gorilla to have that kind of grip, but a human hand—and this was a human hand—shouldn’t have done that much damage, let alone broken her neck the way it did. Breaking someone’s neck bare-handed is usually just leverage. This is practically crushing part of her vertebrae.”

Wei Ying raised an eyebrow in Kaito’s direction. Kaito shrugged. He didn’t really know how to say that Edogawa didn’t know anything about magic—real magic—and was a skeptic without leading to Edogawa having an argument about why magic couldn’t possibly be real with them.

“Anything else?” Wei Ying asked. Lan Zhan started playing, and aside from a glance at him, Edogawa seemed to assume that music was just part of death rituals here.

“She tried to fight, but it was a quick death. There’s a bit of skin under her nails and one of them broke, but most of her injuries seem to be confined to her neck.”

Edogawa frowned. “She shouldn’t have been able to get in here with everyone patrolling, let alone be killed. And then there’s the missing body of the first victim… What happened to him? He couldn’t have just walked away. Although if someone was strong enough to break a neck like that, they were probably strong enough to carry out a corpse single-handedly.”

Kaito and Wei Ying winced. Based on some of the things Kaito had been skimming, there was a pretty real probability that the corpse did in fact walk away. Kaito had never been more unhappy to hear that something like zombies existed, and he dealt with a witch that literally called upon Satan on the regular. It was all well outside Kaito’s area of expertise.

“Could you maybe not touch the corpse?” Wei Ying said, looking a little queasy as Edogawa took out a goddamn glove and started shifting clothing.

“I’m wearing a glove,” Edogawa said.

“…That is not the problem,” Wei Ying muttered under his breath.

“Just let him do his thing,” Kaito advised. “Creepy as it is, this really is normal for him.”

“Does he see a therapist? Because it feels like the sort of thing someone should see a therapist for.”

“You overestimate the willingness to seek out a therapist.”

“I know there’s stigma, but hell, you’re here aren’t you?”

Kaito snorted. “Yeah, we’re not here for the health benefits and you know it.”

“He might be.”

“Mouri-ojisan got free tickets from a lady at the racetracks,” Edogawa said, cutting into the conversation before they could get too off topic. “And the victim has an odd necklace…”

“Let me see,” Wei Ying said, leaning forward.

Kaito joined him. Wei Ying tugged down the victim’s shirt to show… a plain wooden bead that had been stuck on a fine chain. “That’s not the sort of necklace most young women would wear,” Kaito said. The chain was cheap, probably not even silver plated, and the bead looked worn. Paired with the otherwise normal outfit Kaito would expect from a college student spending time at a monastic-ish location—sleeves modestly long, clothing loose but flattering, wearing a simple patterned circle skirt—it was out of place. The victim’s earrings were far nicer comparatively; real silver with teardrop pearls.

How odd.

Wei Ying, however, didn’t appear to be surprised to see the necklace at all. “So she was also wearing it at the time she died,” Wei Ying muttered under his breath, thankfully still in English.

Edogawa jumped on the sentence like a terrier chasing a rat. “Too? Someone else had a bead like this?”

“The first victim,” Wei Ying said. “The beads are from a bracelet their friend owned, worn in his memory.”

Edogawa’s eyes burned with connections being made. “So it’s possible the deaths here are related to their friend’s demise.”

“Yeah,” Wei Ying said with a wry twist of his lips that meant whatever had done the murders was definitely of the supernatural variety, “I think it’s definitely related to that friend’s death.”

“Meaning the others in their group are either killers or the next victims,” Edogawa said, hand on his chin.

“If they stay where they’re supposed to, hopefully there will be no more victims,” Wei Ying said.

“I kind of doubt that’s going to happen,” Kaito said. Considering the track record with basically every time Kaito ended up around Edogawa.

“That’s pessimism talking,” Wei Ying said with forced cheerfulness. To the side, the sound of guqin strings faded to silence. “Lan Zhan. What’d you get?”

“The victim snuck out alone and slipped past the guards while they were changing shifts. I believe she merely intended to view the body of the first victim, but her presence seemed to have triggered resentment, and led to her death.” Lan Zhan reported this with a straight back and neutral expression. It was a little creepy considering he must have been communicating with the dead woman. Kaito suppressed a grimace.

“Thank you, Lan Zhan. Now we have to go tell the remaining guests about a second death…”

Edogawa frowned. “Wait. That’s all conjecture. There’s still no clear proof on who might have killed her, and if it was someone in her group, should we tell them we found her body?”

“Counter argument,” Kaito cut in, “if they’re the next potential victims, they need to know. Two dead friends are pretty convincing evidence that they have something to fear and everything to gain for not going anywhere alone.”

“Besides,” Wei Ying said, “this is going to be a legal shit show already. We’re going to have to make up so many waivers going forward.”

“Didn’t we already have to do that?” Kaito asked. He distinctly remembered skimming a document in English and Mandarin, hoping there wasn’t anything he was missing that he was agreeing to on there.

“I didn’t sign a waiver,” Edogawa said.

“You’re a minor,” Kaito said.

“Mm, normal visitors don’t sign them,” Lan Zhan said softly. “The library is different.”

“Ah.” Magic secrets and all that. Yeah, that made sense.

“Lan Zhan, do you want to be on bad-news duty or corpse searching? Or finding your uncle, I guess…”

“I do not believe I will have much to add to Uncle’s legal efforts. Although perhaps, Wei Ying would be best suited for searching for the first body…?” Lan Zhan tilted his head slightly in question.

Something about the intensity in which he said ‘best suited’ made Kaito’s neck hairs stand on end. Kaito didn’t really know a lot about what Wei Ying was researching in the library. He’d gathered that it was controversial, but the specifics were lost to his limited reading ability.

“Corpse duty it is,” Wei Ying said with a sigh. He rubbed his neck. “Well, Kuroba, Edogawa, you should either go back or stick with Lan Zhan because wandering around isn’t a good idea right now.”

“You’re wandering around,” Edogawa pointed out.

“Yes, but I’m trained to take care of myself with this sort of thing.”

Kaito could practically feel the curiosity warring with confusion in Edogawa’s twisty little brain. Ugh. He almost wanted to go back to his room. But the best place to be to know what was happening was at Edogawa’s side. Or perhaps Wei Ying’s too… If Kaito didn’t think this would blow up, he’d suggest splitting up and letting Edogawa deal with the human aspects while he helped Wei Ying with the supernatural.

That said, things were definitely going to go wrong, and he was probably going to be needed for damage control. Staying with Edogawa it was.

“Then I guess we’re going to break the news to some unhappy people,” Kaito said.

Edogawa looked even more torn for a moment, clearly wanting to see out his curiosity about Wei Ying, and yet also needing to know more about the victims’ friend group. “Fine…”

“Aw, don’t be grumpy,” Wei Ying said. “You’re still not being tossed back in your room.”

“Stop treating me like a little kid.”

“Technically, you are a little kid,” Kaito pointed out.

Edogawa scowled.

“Only technically?” Wei Ying said.

“He has a brain of someone three times that.”

“We will go now,” Lan Zhan cut in. “Wei Ying, stay safe.”

“You too.” Wei Ying leaned in to kiss his boyfriend’s cheek. It was cute, Kaito thought absently. It was rare to see same sex couples openly affectionate in public. It was nice to know that here it was accepted enough to do that even if not in the country as a whole. For all that he was in love with Aoko… well, he’d seen men he couldn’t help looking at before. It was nice to imagine that under different circumstances he might be able to find somewhere or someone to be that way toward.

Edogawa, on the other hand, looked like witnessing this was like watching people make out instead of a kiss on the cheek.

“Are you homophobic?” Kaito asked, in Japanese.

Edogawa twitched. “What? No! I just feel uncomfortable with people kissing in public. It’s like, hey, we’re still right here!”

This was perhaps the most like an actual child thing Edogawa had ever said and meant to Kaito’s face. “Really. Kissing bothers you.”

“Yes!”

Kaito laughed. And laughed harder when Edogawa scowled harder at him than when Wei Ying called him a child. “You’ll—heh—you’ll get it once you—ha—go through puberty!”

“I am going to kick you somewhere painful.”

“Is there a problem?” Lan Zhan asked. Wei Ying had walked away while Kaito was distracted.

Just them, Lan Zhan, a body, and an unhappy looking disciple at the doorway.

“No,” Kaito said back to English, forcing his laughter to subside. Ah, he’d needed that laugh. There was too much stress in his life lately. “I just found something Conan-kun said funny.”

“Then we must go.” Lan Zhan nodded to the disciple and turned away from the corpse.

Kaito followed him leisurely and, predictably, Edogawa trailed behind, glancing back at the corpse.

“What happened to the musical instrument?” Kaito heard Edogawa mutter, but it was quiet enough that it was to himself, so he didn’t answer. Let Edogawa broaden his horizons a bit and learn to accept the inexplicable.

Wasn’t there a Holmes quote about that? Ugh, he needed to stop hanging around Hakuba. He was actually starting to infiltrate his brain…

#detective conan #mdzs #dcmk #fanfiction #my writing #crossover

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breakyeol · 4 years ago

Text

— SQUIRM, BABY.

You don’t like Doh Kyungsoo. Especially not when he’s got his fingers buried knuckle deep inside of you and your seeing stars —goddamn stars!— but can’t make a sound unless you want the entire library to know exactly what he’s doing to you under the table.

┗ Pairing: Tutor!Kyungsoo x Reader

Genre: college au, tutor au, enemies w benefits au, smut

Words: 4.7k

Rating: 18+

Warnings: strong language, sexual acts in a public setting, fingering

A/N; tomorrow is going to be my 1 year anniversary as an EXO-L!! oh my goodness that feels so crazy, time really flies. so here is a little present from me to you, enjoy lovelies!!

“These are all wrong,” Kyungsoo mutters blankly, “start over.”

A loud groan is ripped from your throat, the sound earning you more than a few sideways glares from the surrounding tables but you can’t really bring yourself to care. You’ve been here for two hours, studying one of the most intolerable subjects in the world: Calculus. The mere mention of its name made you shiver in disgust.

To be blunt, you’d always been shit at math. Numbers and equations were never your strong suit, not in high school and definitely not now with the added complexities of derivatives and differential equations (neither of which made even the slightest bit of sense to you). You much preferred the gentleness of literature and history to the strict logic and rules of mathematics and science. Unfortunately for you, the latter subjects were just as vital a part of your education, and opting out of them was not an option.

“Can’t we take a break?” You almost whine the question, pressing your fingers into your throbbing temples. “My brain feels like it’s going to explode.”

“No.”

You scowl at the bluntness of his rejection. “I’m paying you.” You point out, stabbing a finger into his bicep for emphasis. “Shouldn’t I have a say in when we take a break?”

He rolls his eyes, swatting your hand away and shoving the paper back in your direction. “I’m giving you your money’s worth. Do it again.”

You let out a noisy huff of air, slouching over dramatically in the stiff plastic chair until your chin is pressed against the cold table. “I hope you know I am deeply regretting some of my life decisions right about now.” You grumble, shooting him an icy glare that you hope conveys the absolute loathing you feel for both him and the set of problems laid before you.

“I thought that was a daily thing for you.”

Scoffing, you bury your mouth in the thick sleeve of your hoodie. “Your face is a daily thing for me.”

He doesn’t even bother to look at you, though you could almost feel the intensity of his deadpan. “I think that was the shittiest comeback I’ve ever heard.”

“Your face is the shittiest comeback I’ve ever heard.”

“You do realize that that makes absolutely no sense.”

“Your fa—”

“Shut up and do your work.”

He either doesn’t hear or consciously chooses to ignore the colorful array of curses you grumble spitefully in his direction, though simultaneously resigning yourself to the fact that you won’t be able to put off your work inevitably. Kyungsoo was a stickler for proper time management. If he had an agenda set in place for your tutoring session (which he always did), then you better believe he’d be checking off each item within its designated time frame. And if you don’t cooperate— well then, your best bet is to pray that there isn’t a mechanical pencil within his reach.

He might not always be able to reach the top shelf, but Kyungsoo had ways of getting what he wanted. Usually, that chilling glare was enough to get those around him to bend to his will. He could be a scary little shit when he wanted to be. You’ll admit, even you had been the tiniest bit intimidated when you first met him. He was quiet, reserved, strict in manner, but also the dangerous unpredictable type, you gathered that much quickly enough. Maybe that’s why the two of you didn’t get on too well.

Where he was cool and standoffish, “a man of few words” some might say, you were more vocal about your opinions, social by nature, always eager to meet new people and make new connections. You had a tendency to speak loudly when excited and talk with your hands when passionate about a subject. That was something most people learned about you very quickly. Unfortunately, upon your first official meeting at a party in your freshman year with your mutual friends, Kyungsoo had no idea just how emphatic you could be until you’d knocked his drink clean out of his hand and spilled it down the front of his brand new shirt.

It was an accident, of course. You’d apologized profusely and he’d accepted it (albeit somewhat begrudgingly), but that was probably the first of many missteps in your... unique relationship.

With such conflicting personalities, it was understandable that you got into frequent arguments about one thing or another. Petty disagreements would often grow into something larger than they really needed to be. Mostly because despite having such contrasting personalities, you shared the trait of innate stubbornness, neither of you willing to admit when you were wrong. It was easy to argue with him, and you liked when you proved him wrong. You liked the way his brows furrowed and his cheeks flushed. You liked the way he glared, the way his lips pouted. You like the challenge he presented you with every time he opened his mouth. Above, you loved to win. Especially when it was against him.

So you pushed, and he pushed right back. And before you knew it, you found yourself a proper ‘frenemy’, though you aren’t sure that that’s quite the right word to describe whatever it was you two were.

But that’s just how the two of you are, how you’d always been. If you were being honest, riling him, seeing that usually so stoic, so controlled expression crack when you pushed just the right buttons— it was fun. You thoroughly enjoyed fucking with him, discovering new and creative ways to get under his skin. And you knew he got just as much satisfaction from doing the same to you, rendering you speechless with witty comebacks, flustering you with his sharp tongue and impressive rebukes.

So really, was it such a terrible thing?

Not to mention, a number of not-so-terrible things occurred as a result of one of your many arguments, such as hiring him as your calculus tutor. One that started out with you claiming he would probably be the shittiest teacher to ever exist (which seemed a valid argument at the time considering how short tempered and impatient he could be *cough* with you *cough*) to which he rebutted with the claim that he could “teach a goldfish advanced calculus” if he set his mind to it, and considering that you “had an IQ equivalent to one”, he could without a doubt teach you. His words, obviously.

It just so happened that you had a calculus exam coming up that next week, so to prove his point, he tutored you for the three days preceding said test. Even though you loathe being proven wrong, you ended up getting one of the highest scores you’d ever gotten on a math test in your entire academic career.

Putting your pride aside, you made the suggestion that he continue to tutor you. He only agreed when you offered him green in exchange for his troubles and admitted that he was right (it took a few extra hours to convince yourself that your grades should be held above your ego before you could bring yourself to verbally admit defeat).

And now here you are, not flunking out of calculus. You’d consider that worthy of the bruise to your pride, even if only by a small margin.

“Kyungsoo, why’d you mark this one wrong?” You frown at the large red X marking problem two as incorrect. You’d been glaring at your scribbled work for almost two minutes, running over the problem in your head, but you couldn’t seem to figure out where he thought you’d gone wrong. It looks right enough to you.

Kyungsoo shifts over to get a better look, his arms pressing against yours in the process and you are briefly stunned by the sudden, unexpected closeness, wholly unable to stop yourself from noticing the faint, woody scent of his aftershave that caresses your senses. Fuck. You can’t tell if you hate or love the fact that he smelled so good. Partly love it because good hygiene is always something to admire in a man (even if that man was Doh Kyungsoo), partly hate it because dammit it’s Doh Kyungsoo and you loathe finding anything that has to do with him attractive. Plus, it’s distracting. You’re here trying to learn and he has the audacity to go around smelling like pine trees and fresh moss after a rainfall. Unfair.

“Right here.”

The scowl you don’t realize you’re wearing immediately drops away as the low baritone of his voice thrums through the cavity of your ribcage and you lean forward to see exactly what he’s pointing at.

“You multiplied straight through instead of distributing.” He explains further upon seeing the uncertainty on your face. A few seconds of further inspection and you finally see what he’s talking about.

“Fuck,” you hiss, “I’m so stupid.”

“It’s an easy mistake to make.” He reassures.

“Yeah, but I should know that by now, I should’ve—” you turn your head, only to nearly choke on air as you discover that any space that once existed between the two of you has virtually disappeared, “... seen it.”

He’s close, so close that you can feel the cool rush of his breath against your skin as he exhales, goosebumps bristling across your arms in response. He’s close. Too close. You can’t think straight, can’t even breathe. The moment that surrounds you feels fragile, like even the slightest disruption would rupture it completely.

Frozen, you can only swallow around the sudden dryness of your mouth as your treacherous eyes drop to trace the plush line of his lips. Who even has lips like that? They’re just so big and so pink, that dark, kissable kind of pink that every girl just wishes her lips could be. You, included. They look soft, and you can’t help but to wonder if they’d still taste like the strawberry bubblegum he’d been chewing on at the beginning of your tutoring session.

“Careful, ___.” The sound of Kyungsoo’s voice, raspier than you recall it being before and laced in a faintly taunting pitch, is enough to break you from your trance and, once freed, you whip your head around fast enough to give yourself whiplash.

“Fuck off.” You cough, jaw clenching as you attempt to drag your mind out from the gutter and back onto the calculus problems you have yet to correct. But for whatever reason your brain refuses to cooperate, instead filling your head with images of his pretty mouth and everything it could be doing instead of rambling on about something as uninteresting as calculus. Damnit.

No doubt seeing the distress written clearly across your face, Kyungsoo chuckles, the sound low and smooth where it drips from his lips, and a familiar heat blossoms in the pit of your stomach.

You can feel his eyes on you now, every cell of your being suddenly hyperaware of his presence beside you. The pressure of his knee where it nudges against yours, the teasing curl of his lips as he watches you struggle to focus, the warmth of his palm caressing up your thigh, the— wait what?

Your gaze whips down, breath hitching at the sight of Kyungsoo’s hand gently gripping the lagging clad flesh just above your knee. It’s another few seconds before you’re able to find your voice again.

“W– What’re you—?”

“Focus.” He cuts you off smoothly, fingers soothing over the inside of your leg, squeezing gently. When you don’t look away from him, he smirks, jerking his chin forward in a manner you can only interpret as challenging. There’s a familiar glint in his eye, a dangerous glint that doesn’t fail to provoke your competitive side. You know that look well. He’s challenging you.

And you don’t back down from a challenge.

Especially not from Doh Kyungsoo.

Determination flairs up inside of you, your jaw clenching as you strike him with a single, heated glare that read plain and simple ‘you. are. on.’ before honing all your attention onto the worksheet in front of you. It’s not too difficult to focus at first, to disregard the tingles that erupt across your skin where his hot touch sears into it. You manage to find and correct your error in one of the problems (impressive for you even if Kyungsoo wasn’t feeling your leg up under the table).

But whatever pride you find in doing so is quickly quelled when his hand suddenly shifts higher, and you feel the faintest pressure against your heat. It’s a sensation that robs you of your ability to breathe entirely for a handful of seconds, and you can’t stop the shiver that ripples down your spine.

This, you see, is one of the more recent developments in your oh-so complicated relationship with Doh Kyungsoo. Yet another that began with a disagreement at a party, over something you can’t even remember anymore thanks to the haze of alcohol that clouded both your minds at the time, that spiraled way out of proportion. You remember yelling at him, insulting him, stabbing your finger into his chest, feeling the sting of his lethal glare. God, he’d looked so pissed off, and you just fed off of it, fed off the rage and the frustration that festered like lava in those dark brown eyes. The angrier he got, the harder you pushed, until he finally snapped.

You’re still not sure what you expected to happen. What you expected him to do. But you sure as hell hadn’t anticipated him grabbing you by the throat and pulling you into one of the hottest, most mind numbing kisses you’d ever experienced.

Next thing you remember is being in a bed. Whose bed it was, isn’t important. What is important, however, is the fact that that night you had the best sex of your entire life with the man you thought you couldn’t stand.

Hate sex with Doh Kyungsoo opened your eyes to a whole new world of mind boggling pleasure that you’d never experienced before. Pleasure that no other person had ever been able to give you. God, the things he did to you. No one had ever touched you like that before. It was like he knew all the places on your body that made you unravel. He honestly ruined all other men for you that night because none have even come close to comparing. Which was beyond frustrating especially considering that, at the time, you thought it was a one time thing.

The morning after you both pretended that nothing happened. In the two weeks following as well, neither one of you mentioned it. You tried to erase the memory from your brain, tried to go back to normal, but it was hard considering every time you needed some sexual release (which was more often than you care to admit), it was his hands, his mouth, his cock that you imagined while you touched yourself. You replayed his moans in your head, his deep, rasping voice growling your name, and fuck, you never came harder.

But it was still nothing compared to the real thing.

As time passed you only grew more and more frustrated. Worst of all, you could tell he was feeling it too. It was obvious in the way he looked at you, with fire burning in eyes, in the way he spoke to you, with a pitch of something hot and wanting in his voice, in the way he lost his cool far quicker and far more often than he had in the past, your arguments fiercer and more frequent than they’d ever been. The tension between the two of you was palpable, thick enough to be cut with a knife. It got to the point where even your most oblivious of friends started noticing it as well, though they knew better than to voice their curiosity.

The second time it happened, you were both sober and, somehow, it was even better than you remembered. The pleasure was more intense, more overwhelming, a feeling you can’t even put into words. Then it kept happening. Late at night when he’d show up unannounced at your door. Early in the morning when you had an important exam later in the day and you needed some pre-test de-stressing. Between classes in the back seat of his car just because you could. At parties when your friends were too shit faced to notice the two of you slipping into an unoccupied bedroom.

Just sex. That’s what you both agreed to when it became blatantly obvious that your little ‘arrangement’ wouldn’t be coming to an end any time soon. No strings. Just sex. Just really, really good sex.

And that was perfectly fine by you.

Exhaling shakily through your nose, you try to block out the feeling of his thumb as it begins to caress gently up and down your clothed core, suddenly very grateful for the layers of fabric that separate you from his intoxicating touch. But it’s a gratitude that’s short lived. Just as you manage to adjust and scribble down a correction, he cups his hand over your mound and squeezes. A gasp escapes you, and you try to cover up the sound with a series of short coughs, the sting embarrassment intertwining with the warmth of pleasure as a few eyes briefly glance in your direction.

“You’re such an asshole.” You hiss under your breath, thighs tightening around his hand, locking it in place.

He throws you a lopsided grin, brows lifting and you don’t miss the glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “I’ve been called worse.” What he means is you’ve called him worse.

Your lips part, but any intelligible words die on the tip of your tongue as he grinds the heel of his palm down, directly against your clit. Your head drops, eyes squeezing shut, teeth locking down firmly on your lower lip in order to silence the soft moan that threatens to break free.

“F- fuck.”

You hear him coo tauntingly beside you at your slip, the tips of his skilled fingers easily locating your entrance and prodding experimentally. At this point, you don’t doubt he can feel the fabric of your leggings growing hot and wet with your arousal.

Despite being used to the quick effect he had on your body, you can help but to feel the slightest twinge of shame at how he was able to rile you up this much with little more than a few well-placed strokes of his fingers. But fuck, it felt so good. You’d already been feeling somewhat deprived since you’d both been so busy this past week with exams and projects and what not. This is the first time you’re spending time with him since almost a week ago.

And you are in need of a fix.

“You look like you’re having a bit of trouble on that problem. Do you need my help?” Kyungsoo leans into you, his face right up next to yours, and you have to resist the sudden urge to kiss him right then in there in front of everyone in the stupid library.

Instead, you grit out an unconvincing, “I’m fine,” and force yourself to stay focused on the dizzying mess of numbers and letters on the worksheet in front of you and not on the delicious warmth of his hand where it is applying just the right amount of pressure to keep you teetering between pleasure and the insatiable need for more.

“You sure?” There’s a certain lightness to his voice that tells you he is thoroughly enjoying watching you struggle. Sadistic bastard.

“Positive.”

And just like that, he’s gone. You almost gasp as a rush of cold air fills the places he had been, and you can’t help the frown that tugs at the corners of your lips, disappointment and irritation coloring your features before you can reel them in. From the corner of your eye, you chance a glance in his direction. The smug, knowing little smirk staining his lips sends a wave of heat pulsing into your cheeks, and you grit your teeth in frustration.

“So what, you’re just going to stop?” You whisper sharply, not making any attempt whatsoever to hide your annoyance.

A look of feigned innocence overcomes his features. “You said you didn’t need my help.”

You grit your teeth, glaring at him as hard as you can manage with how incredibly turned on you are. But he remains unfazed.

“If you want my help,” he continues, voice dropping an entire octave, “you’re going to have to ask for it... nicely.”

Nice wasn’t a word in your vocabulary when Kyungsoo was involved.

Seeing the resistance you are still putting up, he feathers his fingers over your thigh, tracing slow designs across the thin, black fabric. You swallow, unable to look away as they trail dangerously higher, teasing closer to where you both knew you wanted them most.

“You do want it, don’t you?”

Fuck, you want it so bad.

You know that he knows you want it. It’s just the getting yourself to actually say it out loud part that proves to be a challenge. But that’s exactly what he wants you to do, he wants to hear you say it, wants to see you cast aside your stubborn pride and beg for it. Beg for him.

Lifting your eyes, you glance unsurely around the library. It isn’t overly crowded anymore since most of the other students have begun to trickle out as late afternoon approaches. Plus, the table you were seated at was tucked into the far back corner of the room, secluded and out of the way. But still, your nerves buzzed at the thought of someone seeing. Though maybe — just maybe — there was a buzz of something else as well. Excitement, perhaps?

Grip tightening around your pencil, you chewed on the corner of your lip, refusing to meet Kyungsoo’s penetrating gaze as you let out a soft murmur. “...ease.”

He leans closer, mirth shimmering in his eyes. “What was that? I couldn’t quite hear you.”

Groaning, you shoot him a scowl, shoulders slumping in defeat. “Please help me, asshole.”

Laughter bubbles at his lips, the genuine kind that makes his cheeks lift and his nose wrinkle. You like it when he laughs like that. Makes him look a lot less like a serial killer.

Sinking his teeth into the pillowy flesh of his lower lip to stifle his laughter, he shoots you a lazy grin, “that’s all you had to say.”

Next thing you know, his hand is slipping beneath the elastic of your leggings and into the soft cotton confines of your underwear. Your mouth fell open, a sharp inhale filling your lungs with cold air as his fingers slid through your slick folds.

“I knew you were wet but shit.” He hisses, thick brows furrowing at the feeling of your heavy arousal coating the length of his digits. “I must say, I’m flattered.”

“Don’t be,” you breathe, eyes fluttering, “even Chanyeol can get me this— ngh!”

Without warning, he plunges his middle finger inside of you, and the remainder of your sentence pitches into a strangled moan. One look at his face, jaw clenched, nostrils flared, lips down turned, tells you he isn’t all too pleased at the mention of another man’s name, especially when he’s the one buried knuckle deep in your greedy cunt.

A hazy smirk curls onto your lips and you let out a low hum of pleasure, walls squeezing around him. “You’re sexy when you’re mad.”

“Is that why you enjoy pissing me off so much?” He questions, tone biting and low, and you shutter involuntarily as he rolls the pad of his thumb harshly over your aching clit.

“Partly.” You admit, somewhat breathless. “But you’re also just a really fun person to piss off.”

He chuckles dryly in response, though the sound lacks any genuine amusement. “You are such a brat, you know that?” He emphasizes the word by stretching you around a second finger, and you have to drop your pencil in favor of clasping your hand over your mouth, unable to swallow down the soft whimpers that tremble up your throat.

“You love it.” You manage to get out before you’re forced to bite into the tender flesh of your palm to muffle a desperate cry when the slow thrusts of his digits suddenly picks up speed. Your thighs squeeze around his hand, hips jerking up to grind your throbbing clit against the heel of his palm. Electricity ricochets through your veins, and you feel that distinctive tightening in the pit of your stomach. Kyungsoo also feels the way you throb and clench around him, and makes sure to grind down hard against your swollen clit.

Heat immediately spreads through your core, the intensity of the pleasure becoming more than you can handle. “Oh god, Kyungsoo.” Your voice comes out louder than you intended, and you quickly duck your head, doing your best to make it seem like you’re focusing on your work and not the fingers drilling relentlessly into your g-spot, praying to god that no one had seen the blissed out expression on your face. Still, you can’t help the quiet whine that escapes you when his ministrations slow.

“Are you trying to get us caught?” He asks in less than a whisper, breath hot against the shell of your ear. “Ever hear of subtlety?”

“Ever hear of suck my dick?” You snap back without missing a beat, only to jolt as his fingers curl inside of you, pressing directly against that sensitive bundle of nerves. Every muscle in your body tenses, and fuck you’re so close you can almost taste it. Frantically, you thrust your hips, desperately trying to fuck yourself down on his digits.

“Sit still.” He growls, and you quiver when he sinks his teeth into the lobe of your ear, obeying only because you really don’t want to get banned from the campus library if someone happened to catch on.

“Soo— fuck,” the force with which you bite into your lip is nearly about to break the skin, but you can’t be bothered by the pain, not with how quickly your orgasm was approaching. Sensing as much, Kyungsoo goes the extra mile of drawing hard, fast figure eights over your clit with his thumb while simultaneously thrusting his fingers into you so fast that you swear you can almost hear it.

All at once fire roars through your veins, euphoria consuming you as your high crashes over you. Your walls spasm around his digits, painting them with your release.

He doesn’t withdraw from you until you go slack, thighs spreading, body slumping back in your chair, eyes fluttering as a hazy, blissed out smile touches your lips. You can only watch through hooded lids as he brings his glistening fingers to his mouth, sighing in amazement as he sucks them clean. There’s a twinge of arousal in your core as he moans softly at the taste of you on his tongue, a downright lethal sound that somehow manages to rouse your positively spent pussy.

This man is going to be the absolute death of you one of these days.

“Fuck.” You chuckle airily, heady gaze flickered over him lazily, only to do a double take when you notice something standing upright beneath the zipper of his jeans. The corners of your lips twirled into a mirthful grin, eyebrows raising slowly.

“Need some help with that?”

“Yes.” He answers shamelessly and without hesitation, grunting softly as he adjusts himself in the tight confines of his jeans to make the raging hard-on he’s sporting somewhat less obvious. “But not here.”

“I figured. So... your car or mine?”

“Didn’t you just get a new one with reclining seats?” He questions, running the tip of his tongue over the seam of his lip at the mere implication.

You strike him with a wicked grin, already beginning to shove your things into your bag. “I did indeed.”

“Then what are we— wait.”

“What?”

“You didn’t finish correcting the worksheet yet.” He points out, drumming his fingers across the paper that had completely slipped your mind.

You pull a face, pausing in the act of gathering your belongings long enough to cross your arms pointedly over your chest. “No offense, Kyungsoo, sweetheart, but I’d much rather suck your dick than do one more of those stupid fucking calc problems.”

His brows leap to his hairline, and he offers a single nod of acceptance, in no position to argue with such a valid point.

“Noted.”

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ceriseeclipse · 4 years ago

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Dark Skies

The Signs’ Face Claims

I had this idea for a while: Personification of the signs. I always wanted to write a story that presents the signs as people, with the same features and personalities that the signs are said to have, living their lives, interacting with each other. Here are a few ideas for each character, if I get to the actual story, the characters will develop a lot of course. Please inbox me your feedback, if you would be interested in a story as such.

Here’s an idea for the face claims. (the actors’ actual sun signs don’t have anything to do with their roles):

Henry Cavill as Aries, the impulsive soldier.Strong-minded and brave, but a hot-head, which makes him dangerous in a fight. He often throws caution to the wind and goes straight to the point, which he may regret later. He lives for today, is initiative and ambitious, lacks certain gentleness, humility and sense of social act, hurts people without even intending to. He’s restless, vital and always looks for new challenges and adventures. Deep-set eyes and dark eyebrows give him the severe, serious but handsome look. He’s not into love, but does like sex. He rarely gets attached to people, only lives for war and winning battles.

Zoë Kravitz as Taurus, the confident, self-sufficient, but sensitive girl. You can rely on her, she’s honest and respects good manners. Patient and cautious, she knows what she wants and won’t let anyone stop her. She keeps her feet firmly on the ground, doesn’t like to dream or wish, she strongly believes that if you want something enough, you have to go and get it. She’s practical and responsible, but easier to break than she’ll ever show. She loves strongly, and passionately, has a big, loving heart, but knows when to let go, she doesn’t put herself down for anyone. Her doe-like, big, brown eyes will make you trust her with your life. She is exactly who a woman should be, if you could say that, confident, strong, independent and intelligent.

Tom Hiddleston as Gemini, the sweet and funny, blonde, curly-haired sunny-boy. He can seamlessly change everything, from style, ideas to work or partner. He is easy to adjust to significant changes. Surrounded by a little nervous energy, he is brilliant but sometimes emotionally unstable. Being bisexual, he likes to sleep around with different people, but doesn’t really mean to intentionally hurt anyone, he just expects other people to take life and relationships as easily as he does. He’s humorous, energetic and cheerful, but doesn’t let anyone see his sensitive side, that’s why his mysterious way seems very attractive.

Andrew Garfield as Cancer, the typical sweet boy, who likes to play with fire and often gets burned. He can go from being in a great mood to suicidal thoughts in a second. His heart is easy to break and he doesn’t know how to get over it. Trying to bring an order to his chaotic feelings, he starts writing. For himself at first, but that’s how his talent as a writer gets discovered. It helps at first, but his vulnerable nature wants him to take revenge on those who hurt him, which starts to destroy him slowly.

Madelaine Petsch as Leo, the Queen Bee in Louboutins. She likes expensive clothes, always looks flawless and knows it. She appears even more confident than she actually is. As a struggling actress, her life hasn’t been the easiest. Trusting and a little naive, she’s often been used and lied to. She likes to manipulate people, but sometimes ends up being manipulated herself. Trying hard to hide her generous, forgiving heart, she thinks that the key to success is heartlessness and diamonds. Her brutally honest personality gave her the name of a “bitch”, which she enjoys at times, it gives her a painful kind of satisfaction to be hated, but admired at the same time. Her long, red hair perfectly matches her ever-red lips and green eyes, that roll so often. She enjoys her naturally good looks and knows how to use it for her best.

Jamie Chung as Virgo, the beautiful healer. She’s a doctor, she lives for helping people. But the sad truth is, she doesn’t always know how to help herself. Being a gorgeous, strong woman, she is full of insecurities, no one can understand. She is ready to sacrifice herself for others, even people she doesn’t know, because her own life doesn’t mean anything to her. Attentive, with great analytical skills, she seems to see everyone's personality through, she sees when somebody’s hurting, when somebody's lying, her eyes don’t miss out on anything. She loves to bring order into the chaotic life, and tries to make the world a better place by being considerate and organized. Being wealthy, she doesn’t like expensive and unnecessary luxuries. Taurus is her soulmate, but unfortunately, there are many struggles that come in their way. Their love is beautiful and innocent, but leaves them both heartbroken, more than once.

Shay Mitchell as Libra, the girl next door. She has always been a girl who went by unnoticed. A wallflower kind of girl as they say. She never minds, she doesn’t like to show off, doens’t like to shine. Simple clothes and sneakers, ponytail and barely any make-up, that is her every day look. She has a soft personality and knows how to handle troubles, a diplomat, religious, fair, justice has always been important to her. People usually think that she is a depressed teenager, but that isn’t true, life is going as she wishes it to go. She doesn’t like to be pushed, pressured, she prefers to leave responsibility to others. Sometimes, she feels a little basic, that’s all. But the girl will find her place in this world very soon.

Michael Ealy as Scorpio, the blue-eyed devil. Despite what people said, he isn’t all that bad. The often call him “the evil eye”, if your eyes meet, you always move first. He can kill you with a look, undress you with a look, send you to hell with only one look. He’s never easy, everything is important to him and he takes everything seriously. All around him is black or white, nothing in between. The only people he can call friends seem more like loyal servants. It feels like he never tells the truth, he’s mysterious to a fault and will never tell you his opinion about anything. Don’t do him wrong, he will never let you leave with it. He scars a lot of people. Not always intentionally, just by being himself.

Will Smith as Sagittarius, the short-tempered cop. He’s charismatic and respectful, a real fighter for justice. Straightforward, he will shoot arrows, he can’t leave anything unspoken. If you’re in the wrong, he’ll make you crack. He does have strong relationships with people, but only the ones who deserve it in his opinion. Quite tolerant, he will accept a lot of your flaws, but never cross a line, he can cut you out of his life in a second. He’s living on the edge, taking risks, jumps into danger, whether it’s about work or love. Being short-tempered, he gets angry fast, screams, even gets physical, but calms down fast and often regrets it. He does have a good soul, but not many get to see it. Mostly, all they see is a man fighting for the good in any possible ways.

Keanu Reeves as Capricorn, the lone wolf. He never really needed anyone. He was fine being alone. Growing up in an orphanage, he was used to it. Not knowing love, no one to care about. But still, he got through, fought for his degree, became a teacher, not even knowing what for. He doesn't really fall in love, he doesn't really get attached, he doesn't really need it. His good looks and seemingly cool nature attracts a lot of people, he’s interesting, mysterious behind closed doors. But no one really knows him, not even himself. At times, it feels like he's ready, to be a part of the world, to take care of people, but he struggles to believe that anyone would put up with him. He always was so ambitious, so determined, but he came to a point where nothing makes sense anymore. That's the moment he meets him. Better said, he reads his book. A book about retaliation.

Margot Robbie as Aquarius, the sharp-tongued beauty. She grew through struggles and insecurities, which turned her into this perfect human being. She was abused, betrayed and had to fight to survive, just to become a brilliant thief. She’s a woman who gets what she wants, with her intelligence and incredible looks. She considers herself a visionary, she has her ambitions and desires, she’s close to the spiritual world and has a great imagination. Overly dramatic at times, she knows her worth, and knows others better than they know themselves. People bore her quite easily, she expects mystery and entertainment from others. Sexually passionate, she suffers from lack of permanent feelings. Her life has to be a never-ending adventure.

Jared Leto as Pisces, the lost soul. He'a a musician, struggling with drugs and alcohol abuse. His curious and creative mind can't manage between his will to get inspiration and his addictions. He always needs more, whether it's whiskey, love or music, he can never stop. At times, it feels like he's at the end, that he can't do it anymore, but only one shot, and he's back, writing, singing, playing guitar. He falls in love with creative souls like himself, struggling, even dying. For him, it's always over. Every day, can be his last and all he does is singing, dreaming, he always took the path of least resistance.

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staywritten · 4 years ago

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Studio Time│Bang Chan

Synopsis: Your boyfriend is producing your groups comeback and you learn the downside of dating a perfectionist.

Genre: one shot, angst-ish? Happy ending, idol!Chan, idol!reader, fluff with more fluff at the end.

Word Count: 2108

I wrote this fic like 5yrs ago for a different artist lol But I re-read it recently and still really liked it so I re-vamped it for SKZ. Especially after that episode of Weekly Idol when the members said Chan was sweet to them but he was really serious when he was making music, so I figured this was the perfect fit.

When your label announced that your comeback album will be produced by Chan you weren’t really sure what to think. You prided yourself on keeping your careers separate, but on the other hand he was an amazingly talented producer and it wasn’t often that he produced for idol girl groups.

At this point of his career he was expanding outside of doing work for just Stray Kids. It was an opportunity at which both parties benefited. He could grow his portfolio in a way that wasn’t possible when just producing for Stray Kids and he was an up and coming name in the industry.

You two didn’t date publicly but your members and management were aware of the relationship, so some of the pressure was lifted. You didn’t have to pretend like you didn’t know each other.

Walking into the JYP building, you led your members to Chan’s signature studio. Despite coming to his studio pretty regularly, it was a little nerve racking coming to it for work. You felt just as nervous as you did when meeting a new producer. “Are you excited to work with Channie? How lucky are we! What kind of producer is he?” Your youngest member chimed, hooking her arm with you.

You nodded laughing, giving her hand a little pat. “I guess we are pretty lucky.” Not many producers would be open to input, but since your members had a close relationship with your boyfriend you figured the atmosphere would be lighter. “I’m not sure how he is as a producer honestly. He’s never let me see him work before. Like I’ve seen him make beats, but never recording.”

As you all walked into his studio you smiled seeing him sitting with Han on the couch. “Wally!” you chimed giving the bright green wall a little pat.

“What about me?” Chan pouted.

“What about you?” you teased, giving him a wink.

You did your group greeting and bowed, laughing at how silly it felt. Normally that would be saved for broadcast and fan meetings but it was a force of habit as a leader.

“Awww cute!” Chan chuckled before formally introducing himself just to cover the formalities. It wasn’t often you got to see your boyfriend while working, but you also had to keep in mind that you still had to work.

Chan walked over to you, pulling you into a hug. You wrapped your arms around his neck, smiling brightly. “I missed you” he grinned. You did your best to ignore the aweing from your other members and Han. His nose brushed down the bridge of yours.

“I saw you this morning” you played with the hair at his nape.

“I know, I missed you this afternoon” he laughed, pecking your lips, lingering just a moment too long.

You giggled, melting into his arms. “Aww, you’re being really cute today” you whispered, pulling back to look at him. “Don’t look at me like that” a smile tugged at your lips, as you gently grazed your nails against his scalp. “We have work yo do”

“Mmmm” he sighed into your touch. “I’m just excited to make this song. I worked so hard on it, it’s perfect for you” he smiled. “I made it just for you”

“I can’t wait” you chimed, pulling away from him. He whined letting you step back, a cute pout on his lips.

“Awww you guys are cute, it’s kinda gross” Han pretended to choke back a gag before laughing and grabbing his bag. “I gotta head to an interview, so I’ll catch you guys later.”

After the formalities, he played the demo track for you. Your members loved it. It was fun, playful and it had a bit of an edge to it. You couldn’t wait to record it. That was one of the plus sides about working with your boyfriend. You were actually very vocal at home about the direction you wanted to go in with your group.

This would be your first track of the new year, and all of your members were officially adults now. You wanted something teasing, and mature, yet still youthful and in true Chan fashion, he nailed it.

All that was left now was to record it.

One by one your members did their lines, recording their parts in manageable segments. Chan was very caring with them, almost holding their hand through the process. “Minah, try singing it like this.” he coached her through it, reiterating her part, and changing the articulation toward the end.

She was your youngest, and still wasn’t completely confident in her own voice yet so she was a lot to handle. She did her best to follow directions, but sometimes things were just out of her vocal range and when that happened Chan adjust accordingly. He coached her to give her the confidence that was needed to reach the note. Once she adjusted he clapped and gave her a thumbs up. “Very good, that was perfect! One more time, from the top.” In the end he changed up her part to best suit her voice and she had a cleaner take.

You were proud seeing him so kind. You couldn’t help but watch him with the brightest warmth in your eyes. Your group were like your baby sisters and he was being so good to them.

Unfortunately Minah wasn’t the most difficult take of the day, but he worked with each one of them carefully. In their defense it was a difficult song to sing. It was a very dynamic with lots of changes, not only was this a genre change from your groups usual music it pushed your vocalist and rappers to step up.

Soon enough it was your turn to record.

Although you couldn't really call it recording.

Chan wasted no time in stopping you every few words. Perhaps you were spoiled with how doting and sweet he was with your members. Because it seemed that he had no intentions of treating you in such a manner.

“Babe, can you do it seriously?”

“No- Again that sounds horrible”

“Do it again”

“Again, from the top.”

“Again”

“It’d be nice if I had a single sample I could use.”

“If you can’t do it, perhaps we should have someone else do it?”

“This is kind of embarrassing”

Was this even the same person? You understood constructive criticism. Constructive is what he was with your members. This was just being mean. You slipped off your headphones and glared at him when he stopped you again. That time you were in the middle of another take. It would have been nice to get a single line out with his opinion.

You hated that you wanted to cry.

You had to deal with some pretty tough critics. Producers, songwriters, choreographers, your CEO. Making an album was a high stress process with a lot of hands on deck. It was your job, so naturally it wasn’t going to go smoothly. Especially when everyone had different creative views, but this was the worst recording you’ve ever dealt with in the entirety of your music career.

You just hated being yelled at.

He knew that better than anyone. All those nights, you would come home from work and he’d have to console you after you’d been scolded. Chan knew that yelling immediately shut you down. You bit back your tears, wanting to hold it together for your members. You could see them struggling from behind the glass. It looked like they wanted to say something, at least tell Chan to ease up, but you shook your head and took a deep breath.

Normally you would avoid confrontation and just sing it the way the producer wanted, but you just couldn’t do it. Because what Chan wanted, wasn’t you.

You finally set the headphones on the rack inside before walking out. “Where are you going?” he frowned watching you take your backpack. “We don’t have anything for your part. We need to start from the beginning”

You shrugged. “Give my part to Jieun, she’ll do it better”

Jieun gasped before reaching out to you, shaking her head profusely. “What? But Unnie-”

“It’s fine” you gave her a small smile, trying to calm her. “I’ll call the company directly and tell them I can’t participate in the recording”

“But it’s our comeback track! You can’t not have a part in it” Minah grabbed your hand. She looked back at Chan “Tell her to stay.” Seeing the hesitation in his eyes she frowned more “Chan tell-”

“That’s enough.” you gave her head a small pat. “I’ll be fine. I just need to get out of here. I’ll check in on you later.” you looked to your second in command “Jieun you’re in charge.”

Chan rolled his eyes before crossing his arms over his chest. “So you’re just leaving? Do you always quit like this? Is that the way you lead?”

You froze, hearing his words.

Was he trying to hurt you? What could you have possibly done? He was fine earlier. You gripped your fist, your body shaking before leaving the room with your head held high. You knew when someone was trying to get a rise out of you, and you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction.

On your way through the lobby you ran into Han. He smiled initially seeing you, but as you wiped away your tears he frowned. “Hey…” His gentle voice pulled you out of your thoughts. It was too gentle. Almost sympathetic. You looked up, scrambling to bring a smile on your face. That signature idol smile you gave to the cameras. “You don’t have to do that…” he gave your shoulder a small pat. “Do you wanna get some coffee?”

You sat across from Han at the cafe across the street. He didn't push you to speak. He just gave you a moment to sort out your feelings, let you take your time and figure out what to say.

He sipped on his drink. “Chan-Hyung was being a jerk huh?”

It wasn’t really a question. There was a certain understanding in his voice. You looked up at him, your eyes narrowing. “Is he always like that?”

He chuckled. “Sometimes. Chan is a perfectionist. Always was. Always will be. There are times when our group has come to blows because Chan can just be a little too much when criticizing. Threatening to remove Changbin-Hyung’s part from the song, getting frustrated in vocal ranges…real harsh criticisms...things like that. I don’t even think he’s aware of when he’s doing it.” he sighed. “Like when we record it just seems like the stress finally gets to him.”

Your shoulders slumped. “But he was really nice to my members…Absolutely sweet to them…he was only mean to me. Not that I would want him to yell at my girls-I’d literally kill him. But…” you sighed staring into your coffee. “Why was he being so mean…”

“He was probably being extra careful with your members…”

“What do you mean?”

“When we were recording our collaborative stage with Niziu, Chan was really nice to them. Doting, constructive, an angel. But that day was hell on us. It’s like he had pent up frustrations and just couldn’t hold it in any longer. I swear Minho-Hyung almost quit that day.”

“What type of bullshit excuse is that?”

He shrugged. “No excuse. Just how it is…Like he can only be himself with people that he knows will forgive him. He can be an ass sometimes, but he sure does put out amazing songs.”

“But at what cost?” you sighed, taking a sip of your coffee.

Later that night Chan came home, sheepishly poking his head inside to see you sitting on the couch. His eyes widened as he entered. “You’re still here?” his voice a little more surprised than he’d like to let on. A lingering bit of reliefe to his tone.

You sighed turning the page of your book “I was going to leave your ass. But I figured we should at least talk. Despite what you make think of me. I’m not a quitter” you set your book down before crossing your arms. “So talk.”

“Look, I’m sorry about earlier. It’s just-” he groaned, raking his hand through his curly hair. “The track wasn’t going where I wanted to. It was getting away from me…The only way I’d like the track was for your part to be exactly what I envisioned...for you to bring everything back”

It made sense he did give you the biggest part of the song. The chorus, and bridge were the most memorable of his demo and he gave them to you. He even had you sing the demo for the company to pitch the idea. At the time you thought it was sweet, you had no idea the burden it’d be.

It was obvious this song was made to be a solo for you.

“Your members did their best, but they just didn’t have the vocal range to do the song the way I envisioned it… So I made adjustments and compromises...” he sighed heavily. “And more adjustments...and more compromises...” he rubbed his temples. “Especially because if they can’t sing it at recording they wouldn’t be able to perform it on stage. So one change became another….” he sighed heavily, slumping into the chair. “I loved the song so much because it’s what I knew you wanted to release… But they just couldn’t...and…”

“I don’t think we can work together Chan…” you frowned. “You’re my boyfriend, and an amazing producer…but you can’t be both. In order for us to be happy with the track, and in order for me to be happy with our relationship we can’t work together.”

“We can still make it work. Let’s try again tomorrow.” he looked so hopeful. “I promise I won’t yell, and I-”

“You don’t understand Chan. You made me hate you.” your voice small, as you looked down.

He sank down into himself. His shoulders slumping, hurt etched on his delicate features. Never in his lifetime would he have thought you’d say that. “You…You hated me?”

“I did…for a little bit…You made me hate myself…You made me feel like an inadequate leader, you made me question myself.” you hugged your knees. “I can’t feel like that ever again. I’m responsible for six other girls who look up to me. It’s so easy to get ransacked in this industry, to be pushed and pulled into concepts. They need to believe in me. I need to believe in me and my ability, but with you… I couldn’t. So for my sake…Let’s drop the project.”

He closed his eyes before nodding. “Alright…” He hated that he made you feel that way. He never intended it on getting that bad. He just panicked when he listened to the track, and you were the last person to record. You were supposed to be the saving grace of it. He wasn’t going to release something he didn’t at least like. Once again his overly perfectionist ways almost cost him something he wasn’t willing to lose. “I am sorry…” he whispered.

Producing was one of his greatest joys in the world, and singing was yours. There was just something so utterly heartbreaking knowing that you could never share your passions together. “I know…I’m sorry too.”

He bundled you in his arms, letting you lay your head on his chest. He pressed a kiss on top of your head. “I have one more compromise”

“You don’t give up do you?” you felt your lips tugging to a smile. “What’s your compromise lover boy?”

“What about I talk to your company into giving you this song for a solo for later this year? And you, me and Jisung write up a new song for your group comeback?”

“There’s no time”

He chuckled. “If anyone can write a song in crunch mode it’s Han Jisung” he smoothed down your hair. “I think with your help we can write something that’s mroe ideal for your girls”

“But a solo-”

“Baby I wrote that song for you.” he closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against yours. “That song was yours...And I need you to have it. You said your company was planning a solo debut anyway... so sing this.”

“Chan I love you so much...But I can’t record an album with you”

His beautiful brown eyes gazed into you. “I offered you a compromise, offer me one too”

You pouted. “Fine, since you’re in the mood to make a deal. I’ll take your solo song only if I record with Jisung, and Changbin.”

“Deal” You smiled gently scratching his scalp, and placing a kiss at the base of his throat. “Mmmm...” a groan echoed from his throat. “I’m so sorry about today Baby”

“It’s fine” you relaxed into his touch as he traced patterns into your skin absently. You grinned. “It’s nice to know that you’re not perfect”

He chuckled, throwing his head back. “I never claimed to be perfect”

“Oh yeah?” You sat back, crawling onto his lap. A smile on your lips as you gazed into his eyes. “Mr. Perfect hair” you played with the hair on his nape. “Perfect smile” you placed a kiss on his lips. “Perfect dimples” your thumb brushing against his dimple. “Perfect voice” you pressed a kiss on his adam’s apple. “You are perfect in a million different ways.” you giggled “You’re just not meant t be my producer”

“I can live with loving you in a million other ways.” he stood up, lifting you in his arms and carrying you into the bedroom, your laughs echoing and filling the house.

End.

Hey Friends! I hope you enjoyed that. It was nice revisiting an old fic and breathing some new life into it. If you liked it let me know <3

I’m sorry my Felix scenario is taking so long... I’ve rewritten it like 8 times and I’m getting a bit overwhelmed I’m gonna try and revisit it when my mind is clearer. I’ve been starting at the screen for far too long.

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jessicajonesrp · 4 years ago

Text

He’s backkkk

It took some careful planning, but eventually, Rikarah had what she needed to be able to bring Kilgrave back to life.

She already had a safe and secure location where she would be uninterrupted during times of needed concentration- her open rented home, just outside of Manhattan. She had never bothered to inform Phillip that she had a rental house; it seemed a better bet to keep the information of her multiple living quarters, unused for most of the year, to herself, just in case. Phillip had been far from discreet, and there was a reason Rikarah had chosen a secondary lodging outside of the business of cities such as NYC, Hell’s Kitchen, Harlem, or Manhattan itself. She was a loner at heart, but her interest and her focus tended to be on others, and it was necessary to spend most of her time among them in order to know them and their lives. This distant secondary home was to be used only when necessary, to recharge, or for specific situations such as this.

It hadn’t been difficult to obtain a picture of Kilgrave. After the incident on the dock, he and Jessica and Patricia Walker had been all over the covers of newspapers everywhere, so it was a simple matter of a few clicks on a smart phone to find and save a picture of the man in question. It had taken more time to obtain something with Kilgrave’s DNA. Rikarah had attempted to trace the location of his body- somehow she suspected he had been neither traditionally buried nor cremated, and it was her guess that he was likely being used for scientific experimentation or study, legally or otherwise, within the government or whoever else had been the highest bidder of access.

With some creative thought, she had been able to trace back several of Kilgrave’s last known addresses, including the childhood home of Jessica Jones, which was unfortunately no longer standing after its bombing. Nevertheless, Rikarah had discovered that the “Kilgrave survivors” group Jessica had formed over a year ago, with the intention of drawing out Kilgrave and gaining information on him, was still active and meeting regularly.

It hadn’t been difficult to insinuate herself into the group for a few weeks as a new member, pretending to be one of the traumatized survivors of the incident of Kilgrave-directed violence on the dock the evening he himself had died. Rikarah had enough research information to be able to nod along and briefly and tearfully provide her own version of events. Meanwhile she took note of the people who had spent prolonged time with Kilgrave- being his driver for a week, forced to let him live in their home for longer, or forced to wait on him as a cook, bartender, or masseuse.

Those were the ones that may possess something that would carry Kilgrave’s DNA, even now. Those were the ones that she made the effort to befriend, to offer a shoulder and a listening ear. And a few episodes of feigned attraction and friendship had been enough for one clearly still traumatized older man to allow her into his home and his bed, and with minimal encouragement from Rikarah, to lead her in a tour of the house Kilgrave had made his lodging for a time- the house the man still lived in.

“It was terrible,” the man told her, actually tearful as he shook his head, eyes cloudy as though reliving what he spoke of. “I couldn’t leave the house, I couldn’t speak or even move without him giving me the okay to. He used my house as though it were his, and then one day he just left and didn’t come back. I was terrified that he might return, any moment, and I couldn’t predict when or do anything to stop him. He didn’t even take all of his things with him, and I was afraid to do anything to get rid of them, or even move them, in case it made him angry if he did come back. I know he’s dead now, but even now I’m afraid to touch his things. That’s pathetic, I know, but it’s the truth.”

It was pathetic, in Rikarah’s view, but it was also fortunate for her. Because among Kilgrave’s “left behind things” were a comb, toothbrush, and some clothing including socks and underwear. All certain to contain Kilgrave’s DNA.

She had charmed the man with sympathetic words and touches, assuring him of his bravery, lying without a flicker of remorse about her own supposed fear. It hadn’t taken more than twenty minutes for him to be convinced that he was now strong and brave enough to let some of those items go, “just a few to start with, the ones most associated with him personally”- and that she, Rikarah, in spite of her own fear, cared enough about his healing to be the one to take them away to make sure they were disposed of.

She still couldn’t believe the man was gullible enough to fall for such nonsense. But he had actually leaked tears and hugged her, thanking her for her empathy and giving him the chance to start a new life.

Ironic, and amusing, really, that in all actuality, she was bringing back what he feared the very most, all in the name of helping him put it behind him.

So armed in her remote rented home with the personal objects of Kilgrave’s and a clear picture of his face, Rikarah sat cross legged on her bed and emptied her mind of all thoughts but those of her intention. She stared at Kilgrave’s picture, her hands stroking over each object containing his DNA, and pictured him awake, alive, and whole before her. She imagined the beating of his heart, the rhythm of his breathing, every synapse and nerve once more sharp with activity and use. She envisioned the blood running through his veins, and as her own small body grew taut and gave off fevered heat with the effort of her actions, she reached out for the knife beside her knee. Grasping it in her left hand, she slashed a shallow x over each of her palms, and then at the surface of each of her feet. Hands shaking slightly, she smeared the blood over the comb, the toothbrush, and the clothing, combining their DNA.

With a final shudder of effortful focus, Rikarah spoke aloud Kilgrave’s name. She could feel the air grow thick and strained, as though holding something moving and living and shifting in shape, and she slumped back, exhausted, against the bed, watching with satisfaction as a human form began to slowly knit itself into view in front of her.

It wasn’t a pretty sight. The revived bodies started first with skeletons, then filled up with internal organs and muscles and sinew, before finally being knit over with skin and hair and the other details normally seen on the outside. It was no different with Kilgrave, and eventually, there he stood, naked, panting, and wide-eyed at her bedside.

Rikarah smiled, more in self-satisfaction at the accomplished task than at the sight of the man’s naked body. She didn’t consider him overly impressive in his physique, but he would do. It was the man and his mind, not his body, that mattered. She more than anyone knew it was a mistake to overlook people for their physicality.

“Where the bloody hell am I?” Kilgrave sputtered, disoriented, seeming to struggle to draw in breaths. His lungs, being new again, were likely still adjusting to breathing. “What’s the matter with me? And who the fuck are you?”

When Rikarah didn’t immediately answer, too tired to bother, Kilgrave straightened, pointing a finger at her, and took a menacing step forward, raising his voice. “I asked you a question, are you deaf? Answer me!”

“I’m sorry, Kevin, but I don’t take orders from anyone if it doesn’t suit me, and certainly not from you,” Rikarah said coolly, lifting an eyebrow from her supine position on the bed. “As you quite literally owe your life to me, I would expect a little more respect and gratitude, but I’m a patient woman. I’ll assume you’re rather in shock at the moment, given you’ve just gone from bones and brain mush to a living body again, and let the rudeness slide.”

Kilgrave’s eyes bulged, and he recoiled, alarmed as much by the nonchalant response he had just received as the strange situation he had found himself in. To speak an order and have it not obeyed immediately was beyond his comprehension.

“But I told you to do it!” he almost whined, staring down at the small and clearly unintimidated woman resting on her side in the bed. “I told you to, and you just- the only person who could ignore me was Jessica, and-“

He stiffened, his face paling, as he pointed an accusing finger at Rikarah again.

“Jessica did this, Jessica used that sedative thing on me, didn’t she?! You’re with her, you’re one of her people!”

“Certainly not,” Rikarah corrected him, exhaling with a weary and somewhat impatient sigh. “Jessica knows nothing of this- yet. As far as she believes, you are long dead, and she is glad of it. After all, she was the cause.”

She sat up, watching wryly as the realization and the memory of his own last few moments of life, just before Jessica snapped his neck, came back into the forefront of his thoughts. Rikarah gave him a few more moments to process this against the obvious reality of his current status of being alive before addressing him again.

“Yes, Kevin, you were dead, and for over a year now, too. You would have stayed that way, if not for myself and my own unique abilities. Some gratitude and a certain level of loyalty is not unwarranted.”

“I was dead,” Kilgrave repeated, the words stunned, almost disbelieving. “And you’re saying- what, that you resurrected me? You?” He snorted, looking Rikarah up and down dismissively. “No offense, love, but you hardly look the type to have that sort of power.”

“And Jessica does?” Rikarah countered. “I’ll grant you that she has the advantage in height, but she’s of a smaller frame even than myself, and what she may have over me in physical strength, I can outdo in the sheer enormity of my ability. She may be able to kill someone with a punch, but I’m the one who can bring them back from the dead. If you ask me, I have the greater power, and therefore, the greater true strength.”

Kilgrave looked her over again, more carefully this time, assessing rather than dismissing her. He took a step closer, still seeming not to care for his nakedness as he narrowed his eyes at Rikarah, anger losing out to eagerness in his eyes.

“You know Jessica,” he asserted. “Where is she?”

Rikarah wagged a finger at him playfully, a small smile curving her lips.

“Am I really so uninteresting, that I bring you out of death, and you would forgo all details to chase after another woman? Perhaps I was wrong in my interest in you. Perhaps someone else is more deserving, and you can simply go back to where you were before.”

“Wait, no, that isn’t it, love,” Kilgrave backpedaled, his smile at Rikarah forced at first as he raked a hand through his hair, then more genuine. “Of course I want to know how you managed this, and of course I’m glad for it. And I certainly want to know how it is you don’t listen to a thing I tell you to do,” he muttered, more to himself than to Rikarah, before addressing her again. “But if you know Jessica, then you must know something of our history, and why I would want to know where she is. She’s the one who killed me, you know. She’s the one-“

“That,” Rikarah interrupted, to Kilgrave’s barely contained outrage, “is in the past. The present is right here, with me, in this moment. Choose wisely, Kevin Kilgrave, and choose now, while you still have the choice before you. You can realize that I am no ordinary woman you’re dealing with here, that you owe me your life and your loyalty, and I owe you nothing and cannot be ordered into anything you may want from me. Believe me, I hold no liking for Jessica Jones, and as long as I am the woman who comes first and foremost in your world, I care little for how you choose to play with her. And I am certainly not opposed to letting you know every detail of what you have missed knowing of her life over the past year that you’ve been dust and bones.”

She paused, tilting her head, and gave him a moment to consider, before concluding, “Or you can choose to be foolish, ungrateful, and quite frankly, a bumbling, pathetic corpse, stumbling off on your own in a world that has moved on without you. You would have none of my help or my connections, none of my knowledge, and you would displease me greatly. When and if Jessica Jones kills you again- and she would, you know, if you just pop up on her in her new life without my assistance- then you can be certain I would not lift a finger to bring you back. So, then. What shall it be? I would think the decision obvious, but perhaps you’re not as intelligent as I believed.”

For a moment Kilgrave stood there, motionless, perhaps still in shock, or perhaps genuinely weighing out his obsession with Jessica and his desire for revenge against the logical reasoning of Rikarah’s words. But then he nodded slowly, reaching forward to take hold of Rikarah’s hand in his.

“Well, it would indeed be a fool’s errand to let a woman like you slip out of my grasp. Why don’t we start over with introductions, and perhaps something in the way of an explanation.”

And as Rikarah began to speak, giving Kilgrave some if not all of the answers he craved, she noticed his body relax further, his expression growing more and more fascinated as he came to understand more of the extent of her actions and her power. It wasn’t quite the way, she was sure, that he had looked at Jessica, but for now, it was enough.

It was enough, in fact, that after he had dressed in some of his old clothing and taken time to familiarize himself with Rikarah and her home, that Rikarah was willing to give him the phone number, if not the address, of Jessica’s new workplace, Heroes for Hire. And she sat back, interested and indulgent, as he placed a call, from a cheap prepaid phone she had bought in anticipation of his need for one.

It was Trish who answered, her voice bright and cheerful as the company’s head. “Heroes for Hire, we provide help, heroism, and honorable services for those in need in a time where true heroism is more needed than ever. How can we help you today?”

“Ah, Patsy,” Kilgrave purred, snickering to himself when he heard Trish suck in a sharp breath, immediately recognizing his British accent and self-satisfied tone. “So good to hear a familiar voice, but unfortunately, yours has never been the one I wanted to hear, and you prattle on enough as it is on that bloody talk show of yours. Give the phone to Jessica. Tell her she has a message from an old friend, would you?”

“This isn’t funny,” Trish said tightly, her voice controlled but barely keeping back anger. “Whoever you are, pretending to be that man is not a joke, it’s cruel, and-“

“Ah, but this is no joke, Patsy, can’t you recognize your own would be lover?” Kilgrave asked rhetorically. “Have you had so many men now you can’t remember the voice of all the ones whose throat you stuck your tongue inside of? Let me help you out, then. I’m the one who told you to put a bullet in your head. Fortunately enough for you, that doesn’t appear to have worked out, I never did find out why. Care to explain it to me, Patsy?”

He and Rikarah both heard Trish suck in her breath on the other side of the line. He doubted that this incident in the bunker was something anyone but she, Kilgrave, Simpson, and Jessica were aware of- and out of the four of them, both men were dead. Or supposed to be.

“Who are you?” she asked, her voice softer than before. “What do you want?”

“Unfortunately, Patsy, for me to really make you do what I’d like to make you do, you’d have to be a good bit closer to me than a phone call, something about pheromones,” Kilgrave said casually. “But I do have other ways of making you do as I’d like you to. Put Jessica on the phone, or I will have six people show up at her doorstep and cut your name into their own foreheads. If she tries to stop them, they will cut her as well. Is that something you want to have on your conscience, Patsy? For a simple conversation?”

The line went silent for a few moments. When Jessica came onto the line, her voice was hard and cold as steel.

“Who the fuck are you, and just what the fuck do you think you’re doing, playing this kind of sick joke?”

“And hello to you too, Jessie,” Kilgrave exclaimed, putting an exaggerated bounce to his voice. “No joke, you never did have much of a sense of humor to waste any on. I won’t say it’s good to hear from you, since I had to get murdered, raised from the dead, and then still call your sister first and threaten her for you to speak to me, and I must say that hurts a man’s feelings.”

“You’re not him. You can’t be, you’re just some sick asshole who needs to fucking go put his dick in a-“

“Oh, Jessie, I can see your language is as filthy as ever, every bit as appalling as your fashion sense. Let’s cut off all the protests of my supposed death and just check your office email, shall we?”

Five minutes before the phone call, Rikarah had shot a quick video of him smiling and waving into the camera, with the date and time of the video clearly time stamped at its bottom. With a few clicks, he sent the video to the public Heroes for Hire email address, cutting off the call.

“But don’t worry, sweetheart, you’ll hear from me again soon. If you miss me before we meet again, you have the video for comfort’s sake.”

As Kilgrave hung up, glowing with renewed feelings of power over the fear, rage, and helplessness he had stirred anew in the two women he had just spoken to, he sent a genuine smile in Rikarah’s direction, who returned it in kind.

“You know what, I like you, Rikarah Pallaton. I think we’ll get along just fine after all.”

#jessica jones roleplay #Jessica Jones #luke cage roleplay #Luke Cage #trish walker #trish walker roleplay #kilgrave #kilgrave roleplay

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immortalcoelacanth · 4 years ago

Text

Between the Walls, Chapter 5: Turtles, Bees, and Hybrids in Between

*drags self out of hole and drops chapter*

God this was a struggle to write with school but here we are! Clocking in at either the second or third longest chapter I've ever written for a fic! Please forgive me if there's any spelling errors!

... I didn't help that every time I opened the doc I use to work on this it kept opening up to the chapter that involves Dream XD

Word count: 9016 (yes, you read that right)

Summary: Tubbo sets out to reunite with Tommy, Tommy makes a new friend, and a ghost unintentionally makes their reunion harder.

“Where did you take Tommy?!”

“Keep it down, kid, or else you’ll get in trouble!”

“I don’t care! Where is he?!”

For the past several days, Tubbo had been trying to figure out where Tommy had been exiled to. He had interrogated practically all the other borrowers who had been involved in kicking his friend, his brother, out of the only home he had ever known.

All the borrowers other than the one responsible for actually taking him to where he was exiled to, that is. Fortunately, finding the woman had not been all that hard since he knew the… wilder borrowers tended to stay near either the front gate or the market when they were trading items they had managed to scavenge. After asking around the market to see if anyone knew where she was, made tougher by the fact that he had no clue what her name was and only had a vague description of what she looked like, he had eventually been told that she was last spotted at the front gate.

Which led to the current predicament with Tubbo facing one of the borrowers responsible for his friend’s exile. His hands were planted on his hips as he glared the woman down, refusing to let her pass until she answered his question.

The woman placed her head in her hands and sighed loudly. “Listen, I can’t. I can’t tell you. I can’t take you to him. I can’t do any of those things since I’d get in so much trouble-”

“I. Don’t. Care.” Tubbo spat, the pure venom and anger in his voice causing the other borrower to recoil. “And I’ll do whatever I have to so I can see Tommy again! So, uh…”

The anger on his face faded, turning to sheepish embarrassment. “What’s your name?”

“Sara.”

“Alright, Sara,” The venom was back, albeit not as strong as it was before. “I won’t rest until I’m with Tommy again, so you had better tell me where he is! Or else!”

Even with his unusually angry demeanor, Tubbo doubted his threats would be taken all that seriously thanks to both his unfortunately short height and typically meek demeanor. He had never been all that good at standing up for himself and fighting back, Tommy had always been more confident and headstrong, willing to stick up for him no matter what.

He missed Tommy, so much.

It was like there was a piece of his heart missing. His very soul seemed to ache with each passing day and, even though some of the adults in Borrowton were a bit nicer to him, their warmth failed to chase away the cold feeling that had engulfed him. He needed Tommy, needed to see his best friend again and make sure he was okay, and he would do whatever was needed to accomplish this goal.

No matter how weak or scared he was.

“Alright, alright.” Sara sighed as she held her hands out. “How about this. I can’t take you directly to him, but I’ll drop you off nearby and point you in the direction you need to go. That sound good?”

Tubbo immediately nodded his head, his previously aggressive stance relaxing as relief flowed through him. “That would work! Can we leave now? Soon? By the end of today? When do you think-”

“Holy crap, one thing at a time.” The older borrower interrupted, looking more than a little annoyed at the sudden bombardment of questions. “Luckily for you I was gonna leave soon anyways. Just let me get all my supplies packed up and then we can go. You’ll probably want to get some stuff for yourself as well.”

Perhaps it was a bit naive of him to not question her further, drill her on why she had changed her mind so fast, but he was too caught up in his excitement to think about anything other than his reunion with Tommy. He quickly nodded once more, already thinking about what he would need to get from his… house.

Not a home, it was never a home.

“Then get outta here! I’ll meet you at the front gate.” Sara insisted as she shooed Tubbo away. “Scram before we both get in trouble!”

“Y-Yeah, and thank you!” The younger borrower called out as he quickly ran off, stumbling in his haste to reach his destination. He did his best to stick to some of the darker, more hidden paths so he could avoid encountering anyone else lest they see the hopeful look on his face.

Borrowton itself was not at that large, but it was tall. The settlement had originally been built underground before reaching upwards and connecting with a tree that grew above it. Roots had been carved to form staircases and ladders stretched down from the higher levels. There were also wood and rope pathways that connected each of the towering structures, allowing people to use them to easily cross over to other towers, or simply sit on them and rest while taking in the scenery.

He and Tommy had frequently sat up on these pathways, staring down at the ground that was so very, very far below them, or use it as a chance to annoy some of the borrowers who walked underneath them.

Fishing rods were perfect for stealing hats, and other interesting looking items.

Shorter, more typical houses also littered the ground. They were some of the oldest structures in the settlement, made long before some of the borrowers who founded this place decided to get a bit more creative and inventive with their building. And it was in one of these old, dilapidated houses that Tommy and Tubbo lived.

Well, it wasn’t really their house. It was more so a place that they had permission to live in, since no one else wanted to take them in or offer up their own place to stay. A blatant rejection by their community, but Tubbo had learned to stop caring about that a long time ago.

The second he reached his destination, he flung the door open, raced inside, and quickly closed it behind him.

“Okay, okay. Get the important stuff and don’t worry about the rest.” Tubbo mumbled as he quickly scanned the dark interior of his house. He didn’t bother to light any of the lamps and instead opted to grab a backpack and start filling it with supplies. Tools, food, some bottles of water, and building supplies were all quickly shoved into the bag, haste taking priority over organization.

Of course, with his speed and intense focus, the borrower was bound to slip up and make a mistake somewhere. This manifested in him accidentally smacking into one of the walls near the staircase that led up to the loft, knocking it loose and causing it to slide to the side-

Revealing their hidden stash of items.

Tubbo froze as he caught sight of the worn-down jukebox that had been shoved into the corner of the cramped space. The wood was chipped, he could recall the splinters he had to help get out of Tommy’s hands on multiple occasions, and the varnish had long since faded entirely.

And yet, even with all that damage it still sounded amazing.

He smiled gently as he reached out and carefully patted the top of the jukebox. This item had brought them both so many happy memories, moments of joy without having to worry about anything else. It was undoubtedly the most important item the duo had, a title shared only by the two discs that the borrowers had kept hidden from the community that had shunned them.

Such rare items that could only be found and never replicated were priceless and would have immediately been used to handle all sorts of vital trades with other settlements, but the duo did not care. The discs were theirs, and that was that. He knew for a fact that Tommy would never give them up, and he wouldn’t either.

Tubbo reached around the jukebox and carefully removed the thin, wooden container that had been hidden by its bulky frame. He quickly opened it to check and see if the items it contained were still okay. The two discs, Cat and Mellohi written on both of them to help identify which was which, immediately greeted his worried gaze. They were both perfectly fine, no scratches or blemishes to be seen, and the borrower let out a relieved sigh.

Even if he couldn’t bring the jukebox with him, at least he could give Tommy the discs once they were reunited.

The case was carefully added to the backpack, some items placed on top of it to hide it from sight, and Tubbo took one last look of the closest thing to a home he had ever known. From the low hanging ceiling and the loft that housed both of their beds, to the tiny kitchen Tommy had set on fire more than once, the house was just as worn down and broken as they were, but they had lived their best life regardless.

Discarded like the trash everyone thought they were, left in a rotting home and ignored, but he and Tommy had come out all the stronger in spite of it.

A quiet, near inaudible voice whispered that he should set the house ablaze, turn his past to ashes and rise out of the destruction that had caused, confident and victorious. To leave a remainder that they had failed to break him, break his spirit, but he quickly ignored it and instead shouldered his backpack.

No, it would be better to disappear without a trace and show them how insignificant they all were to him. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction in letting them know how badly they had all hurt him. How close they had gotten to their goal.

So, Tubbo turned and left his old house behind. The door was carefully shut and he patted it, knowing it would be the last time he saw this place. It was bittersweet, leaving like this, but he knew this was the right path forward.

He had to see Tommy again.

He would see Tommy again.

With that thought, that promise, in mind he quickly ducked back into the darker alleyways and slowly but surely made his way to the front gate. Occasionally he would have to stop and wait as other borrowers, and the occasional guard, passed him by, but he ultimately managed to reach his destination with little difficulty.

He immediately spotted Sara after making his way up the hill that connected the gate to the rest of Borrowton, having internally panicked the entire time about being seen. It looked like the guards were busy with something else, probably patrolling parts of the dark forest for any items dropped by mobs, which meant this was the perfect time for his departure from Borrowton.

Using up the last of his energy, he sprinted the rest of the way to the older borrower, dropping to his knees beside her as he took a moment to catch his breath. It was a moment that was quickly interrupted as Sara snagged the back of his shirt and dragged him towards the collection of shrubbery that surrounded the front gate, hiding it from sight.

And in turn hiding both Tubbo and the other borrower from the guards.

He let out a yelp as he was finally let go, dropping flat onto his back while Sara crossed her arms and tapped her foot in annoyance. He glanced up at her and opened his mouth to speak, but before he could start talking she turned around and disappeared into the foliage.

Taking that as his sign to follow her, he quickly pushed himself upright and raced through the last bits of greenery that helped hide Borrowton. Shoving through large leaves, and nearly getting smacked in the face by a twig, he burst into the warm sunlight that peeked between the trees.

It was weird seeing the sun, but it was even weirder seeing the large fox that must have been patiently waiting for them, bags full of supplies scattered around it. The life he lived was not a sheltered one, per say, but he rarely got the chance to leave Borrowton and really experience the world around him. He had always been good working with his hands, and the adults all told him that he would grow up to create things, to build and help their home. Whenever he asked about Tommy, about what his role would be, he had only ever seen disappointed frowns and the shaking of heads.

Like they had given up on him before trying, deciding he wasn’t worth whatever effort they were willing to give out.

“This is my fox.” Sara explained as she patted the animal’s flank, unintentionally snapping Tubbo out of his memory filled haze. “He’s gonna be our ticket to getting you to your friend, so you better be nice.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be extra nice!” He assured her as he got up and made his way over to the fox. Once he was close enough, he scratched behind the fox’s ears, grinning at the happy noises the animal made. A contemplative look crossed his face, and he decided to voice his question. “Does he have a name?” “No? He’s just a fox.” Sara stiffly replied as she started tying the bags to the fox’s sides, attaching them to the near invisible harness the animal was wearing. “And everyone knows he’s mine, so he doesn’t need a name.”

“Oh…” Tubbo mumbled, appearing downcast before perking up. “Can I give him a nickname, then? Something I can call him?”

Though she seemed incredibly confused by his question, she hesitantly nodded. “Yeah? I can’t really do anything to stop you.”

“I’ll call him Squeeks then!” Tubbo beamed. “Because he sounds all squeaky, but spelled differently! Uniquely!”

As if agreeing with Tubbo’s decision, the newly named Squeeks let out an excited squeal and bumped the young borrower. He laughed and continued to love on the energetic creature as Sara finished up their preparations.

Time seemed to both drag on and race by, and before Tubbo knew it the other borrower had finished packing up and was already climbing onto the fox, with him following behind a moment later. The fur beneath his hands was nice and fluffy, as soft as Squeeks was, and served to be the perfect distraction that stopped him from noticing the little whistle Sara let out.

“Time to go!”

That was the only warning he got as the fox started dashing between the trees and emerging into a large, open field. He winced and lifted a hand up to block the harsh rays coming from the sun. It was so… so bright out here! And all the blue-

“Is that an ocean?” Tubbo gasped, jaw dropping in surprise upon seeing the massive body of water that was apparently situated not that far from his old home. “We live near an ocean?!”

“Lived, in your case, and yeah.” Sara answered, quickly glancing back at the younger borrower before returning her eyes to the horizon. “Water and borrowers don’t really mix, so it’s more of a restricted area.”

“Well that’s a dumb rule.” He huffed. “How else are we supposed to get used to water if we aren’t around it? It just doesn’t make sense!”

“Rules don’t tend to make sense, and enjoy the scenery while you can since we gotta go pretty far inland.” The older borrower said before falling silent and focusing on making sure the fox was headed in the right direction. There were several times where Tubbo opened his mouth to speak, wanting to ask a question, but ultimately remained silent and instead opted to watch their slowly changing surroundings.

It gave him plenty of time to think, too. Think about where he was going and what he was going to do, and ask himself some questions that he knew would go unanswered.

Questions about humans.

What did a settlement of humans even look like? He had only heard about the occasional town, knew there was one close to Borrowton, but he had never been allowed to visit it. Too small and dangerous for borrowing, apparently. Would this place be like that one? Small and difficult to find a good hiding spot? What about the humans?

Would they be as cruel and cunning as he had been told, or would he find a human who was nice and wouldn’t kill him if he was spotted? He had so many questions, and the time for their answers would have to come much later…

“Here we are.”

The sound of Sara’s voice snapped Tubbo out of his thoughts and he straightened up, eyes landing on the collection of structures ahead. Some were made out of wood, others out of what appeared to be different kinds of stone, and there were sprawling wooden paths that stretched out in all sorts of directions.

It was… intimidating to say the least.

He had no idea how long it would take him to try and find Tommy. There were so many spaces a borrower could hide in. From the buildings themselves to the various trees and shrubs that could easily be used as a hiding spot, practically everywhere had the potential to house a borrower to some extent. And this was only a portion of what he would need to explore.

Tommy could be anywhere if he found him at all.

Tubbo nervously swallowed as he slid off of Squeeks, the fox immediately started nuzzling his back and nearly knocked the poor borrower over. He let out an awkward laugh, mood lightening just the slightest bit, and turned his attention to the affectionate animal.

“It was nice meeting you, Squeeks.” Tubbo said as he scratched at the fox’s ears and got that signature, laugh-like noise in response. He didn’t see how Sara’s eyes narrowed in annoyance, and it was only when she loudly cleared her throat that he looked up at her.

“And thank you for your help, Sara!” He hastily added. “I’m grateful, truly! I don’t know how I can repay you-”

“Don’t worry about that since this is the last time we’ll see one another.” She interrupted, her face rather blank and betraying none of her emotions. “So, forget about any of that and just live, alright kid?”

“Mhm!” Tubbo quickly nodded. While he wasn’t all that fond of leaving on such a note, debts were a powerful thing after all, he knew there was nothing he could say to change her mind. All he could hope was that working with her didn’t come back to bite him.

Maybe… maybe he and Tommy could stay here. There was always the chance that they could turn this place into their new home, a place they could live in without having to worry about being bothered by other borrowers. Of course, there was still the challenge of finding food, a good source of water, and actually building their home, but that was something they could work on over time.

Yes, that was it! He would build a temporary base, find Tommy, and then work on creating their own home!

With a plan in mind and hope filling his heart, Tubbo waved once more to Sara and set off on his mission. Dashing between the undergrowth and other forms of cover to keep himself from being seen by any humans, or dangerous animals, that might be nearby

Sara sighed softly to herself as she watched the younger borrower vanish from sight. It was so strange knowing that this was the second time she had done this, abandoning a child to some horribly doomed fate, but at least Tubbo had a better chance of surviving then Tommy did.

She let out a quiet snort and shook her head. It was highly unlikely he was still alive thanks to his temperament and what she knew of the Blood God. It wasn’t that she thought he was a bad person, but his habits and choices were… dangerous. It would have been all too easy for him to expose Borrowton to outsiders and humans. He never seriously considered what the consequences his actions would have when something went wrong, how selfish and immature he was.

He was nothing more than a threat to all the borrowers he interacted with, a threat to their way of life.

Good riddance.

xxxxxxxxxx

Warm sunlight shone down on the lonely cabin sitting in the middle of the empty tundra. The light brought with it an unusual warmth, making it the perfect day to spend some time outside gathering resources or fixing up the cabin.

Which was exactly what Technoblade had decided to do.

After repairing the damage that he had dealt to the porch, ignoring the borrower who had followed him outside and immediately started teasing him, the hybrid had decided to spend the rest of the day working on Carl’s stable. The least he could do was improve it so that way the horse would be comfortable in the harsh chill of the tundra.

Surprisingly enough, Tommy had trailed after him as he went from place to place using his own secret passages to keep up with the hybrid. It was fascinating being able to see the hidden doors that had previously gone unnoticed by him, and he was relieved to know that the property value of his home wouldn’t be going down.

Nothing was worse than having a bunch of holes in your house that made it look like it was infested by mice.

Still, the amount of ingenuity required to make something so simple yet complex, even if he had been taught how to do it before, was immense. Hell, if it wasn’t for naturally loud Tommy was, Techno doubted he would have ever found out about the borrower and all the passageways he had made. So, he ended paying more attention than he expected to Tommy when the borrower started making a pathway that connected to the top of Carl’s stable.

A bit unsurprising since he seemed to be very fond of the horse. He wasted no time in pointing out how much Carl seemed to like him, although Techno personally thought the horse was fairly apathetic towards Tommy’s attempts at friendship and only used it as a chance to get carrots from the borrower.

Carl was definitely the smartest being on the server, hands down.

Plus, he was immensely amused as he watched Tommy struggle to hold each carrot up, the vegetable practically the same size as the borrower. It was only through sheer stubbornness and willpower he was able to lift the thing in the first place.

And the occasional nudge from Techno that helped him keep his balance when he tipped back too far. Fences weren’t the safest of places to stand on, of course.

All in all, the day was turning out to be surprisingly productive and peaceful, even if he had to deal with listening to Tommy ramble on and on about whatever topic entered his mind. Techno was surprised to find himself actually listening more than he thought he would, occasionally chiming in with his own point or teasing the borrower. It was a welcome change after the excitement of freeing Carl.

A change that he knew wouldn’t last. Peace was an unfamiliar concept to his family, chaos was naturally drawn to them. Funnily enough, it was a trait that Tommy seemed to share. Speaking of the borrower…

“You’re just jealous that Carl thinks I’m better than you!” Tommy teased, smugly smirking at the hybrid, who just rolled his eyes and shook his head. “He knows how great I am!”

“I just think it’s pretty funny that you don’t realize your greatness,” Both the term and the heavy sarcastic tone had Tommy’s smile turning into a disgruntled frown, but Techno wasn’t done yet. “Is resulting in you getting exploited by a horse.”

“He’s not exploiting me!” The borrower objected. “We’re buddies! Best buddies! For someone who’s so smart with all his fancy words, you don’t seem to get it!”

“Oh, trust me, I get it completely.” Techno drawled, sparing a quick glance over at Carl. For as challenging as it was to pinpoint the horse’s emotions, he didn’t miss the cunning gleam in Carl’s eyes.

Suddenly, a screen popped up beside the hybrid. Tommy jumped back in alarm, nearly falling off the fence he was perched on. Fortunately, Carl quickly helped him resettle himself with a quick nudge and an exasperated sounding snort, as Techno turned his attention to the messages he had just received. Messages from Philza.

Shit.

He cursed under his breath as he began tapping away at the screen, ignoring the curious looks thrown his way by both the borrower and the horse. “Fuck, I forgot about Phil.”

“The fuck is Phil?” Tommy immediately asked, running along the stable’s fence as he tried to keep up with Techno’s strides. “And what’s with that screen thingy? You sending messages to any girls? Looking for any local hot women in the area?”

Naturally, his questions went unanswered as Techno continued mumbling to himself, something about bees and farms, leaving the borrower more than a little annoyed. Not wanting to be left behind, both literally and in terms of the conversation Techno was having with himself, he quickly came up with a plan to keep up. A plan that relied on a rapidly closing window of opportunity.

So, Tommy made his move.

He did not bother trying to get the hybrid’s attention and instead sprinted towards the end of the fence. The moment he reached the edge, he bent his knees and jumped.

For a moment, pure fear filled him as he lunged through the air, refusing to look downwards and instead remaining focused on grabbing onto the swaying braid in front of him. He could feel his heart pounding as he got closer, and closer, until-

His hands made contact with pink hair and he immediately held on as tight as he could. He crossed his ankles, locking his feet together, as he took a moment to catch his breath. He felt all sweaty and jittery, the lingering hints of adrenaline running through his veins. Once he finally felt calm enough to move, and his hands stopped shaking, he slowly started climbing up the long braid.

At this point, Techno had made his way into the cabin and was rummaging through the chests. He was completely unaware of the borrower climbing up his hair until he felt a particularly harsh tug at the back of his head followed by the sounds of Tommy cursing.

“What the fuck, man?! You nearly left me behind!” The borrower exclaimed as he heaved himself over the edge of Techno’s crown, flopping into the pink hair. He could still feel his heart racing from both the dangerous climb and the terrifying jump, but he also felt badass.

He knew of no other borrowers that could brag about such an achievement and, despite how out of breath he was, he found himself smiling as he lay sprawled out on top of the hybrid’s head.

“Sorry.” Techno said, sounding not at all apologetic as that screen appeared once more. “Figured you could use the exercise with those twiggy legs of yours-”

“And here he goes again! Big, scary Blade acting all mean and stuff! Gotta keep up that tough guy act!” Tommy grumbled while waving his hands in the air dramatically.

He heard Techno let out an amused snort at his antics, making a grin appear on the borrower’s face. There was something satisfying about seeing a positive reaction to his antics for once instead of being scolded or told off. For as dangerous as the hybrid could be, Tommy had developed some trust towards him.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to make Techno suffer for almost leaving him out in the cold. Revenge was in the cards, and he refused to miss this chance.

“... You know it’s okay to look up hot old men in your area too right-”

Tommy’s grin grew as he heard the strangled wheeze escape the hybrid, and he threw his head back and cackled. Flopping back into the soft, pink hair he rolled around as he laughed and nearly smacked into the crown surrounding him.

“You’re horrible, and your jokes are cringe.” Techno grumbled. “Phil is my-”

What words could properly describe the connection forged between them? A pact sealed in bloodshed, violence, and a level of comprehension that far exceeded anything he had ever known in his life.

The look of understanding in Philza’s eyes. A grounding voice, a source of stability in a crimson sea of death and loneliness.

A mentor, a savior, a-

“... Dad.” He finally settled on, figuring it would be the easiest way for Tommy to understand what he meant. “He’ll be here, soon.”

“What?!” The borrower squawked, his previous amusement fading and quickly being replaced with dread. He stood up, gripped the edge of the crown, and looked down into Techno’s face. “Y-You have to tell me these things! We’re roommates! And you have a dad?!”

“To be fair, he was supposed to visit a couple days ago, but then Carl happened.”

“That doesn’t explain anything!”

A brow was raised at the shout, Techno easily picking up on the anxiety that made the kid’s voice crack and left him trembling. It was bizarre seeing Tommy so openly terrified, and at the thought of meeting Philza no less.

Philza Minecraft, who had the unfortunate habit of picking up any homeless kid he found on the street and giving them the shelter and support they so desperately craved.

Even if he occasionally left for long periods of time...

His ears twitched, the distant sounds of Wilbur’s shouts and Phil’s pleas for him to calm down ringing in his head. He glanced upwards, eyes meeting the wide, terrified stare of the borrower, and felt the neutral look on his face soften. He didn’t like the idea of the kid being scared, in general and of Phil, and it just felt… wrong.

It felt wrong for Tommy to be afraid of anything. For his arrogance and loud nature to become so quiet and muffled. To see that spark in his eyes dull.

“There’s nothing you need to be worried about-”

“Easy for you to say!” Tommy interrupted with a scoff. “You’re you! You’re all tough and mehmehmeh look at all these swords and potions I’ve got! You don’t have to be worried! You don’t have to be scared! You…”

His words trailed off with a sigh and he braced himself against the edge of the crown, eyes shutting. “You don’t know what it’s like to have to be scared of everything.”

No, Techno didn’t know anything about what it must be like to live at such a diminutive size, although he was familiar with the fear and struggle of trying to survive.

Scorching hot air, bubbling lava. Frantic running and a gold sword clutched tightly in his hands-

Perhaps that familiarity was why he found himself speaking up, repeating the words that had been spoken to him years ago.

“I won’t let anything hurt you.”

The declaration that had slipped out of Techno left the duo frozen and silent, each contemplating the meaning behind his words. While the hybrid was mentally berating himself on making such a claim, not that he couldn’t easily fulfill it, the borrower’s eyes snapped open and he looked down, meeting Techno’s gaze once more. He swallowed, mouth suddenly dry, and spoke up.

“... Really?”

He hated it, hated how childish and weak he sounded, but at the same time he craved reassurance and wanted to know that he would be okay, that everything would turn out okay.

He just wanted to know that he’d be safe.

Techno nodded, unintentionally jostling the borrower around a bit as he struggled to figure out how exactly to word what he wanted to say. Eventually, he settled on a simple. “Yeah, really.”

A moment of silence passed, then two, and then-

“Okay,” Tommy relented, letting out a quiet sigh and nodding. “I trust you, Blade.”

“Wait over here for now. You’ll warm up to Phil pretty quick.” Techno suggested with a knowing tone in his voice as he plucked the borrower off the top of his head and carried him over to the table. Even as Tommy scampered across the surface to duck behind a book he had left out, fear and uncertainty clear in the kid’s eyes, he knew those feelings would vanish soon enough.

Phil had a way with people that he could never hope to comprehend, a skill that had come in handy when they had first met all those years ago in the scorching heat of the Nether. A skill that had equally come in handy when a grungy child carrying a broken guitar had been found rummaging through the trash.

Instinctively knowing how to soothe them and their worries, to calm their fears.

So, despite the anxious looks that were sent his way, he walked over to the front window and waited.

Tommy honestly had no idea what he expected Phil to look like. Techno had given him no information whatsoever, the prick, and the only thing he knew was that Phil was his dad, which meant they probably looked similar?

At least he now knew that he had gotten one of his first jokes about Techno right.

Simply put, it was only when he caught sight of the short, blond man entering the cabin that he realized Techno was adopted, or was most likely adopted. They didn’t seem to have anything in common based on their appearances, other than the fact that both of them looked to be fond of capes since Phil was wearing a long, black cape that stretched towards the floor.

Funnily enough, it was pretty stiff for a cape. There was none of the cool flowing he had grown used to seeing, but maybe that was because of the cold.

Anything would freeze out in the open tundra, including capes.

However, his assumption that Phil and Techno were both just cape obsessed fashionistas was quickly proven false when the newcomer’s cape moved. He heard something that sounded like the rustling of leaves on a windy day and watched in awe as the cape seemed to expand and open up, breaking into two separate parts-

Wings.

“You’ve got wings!” The borrower exclaimed, ducking out from behind his hiding spot and pointing at Phil. Both hybrids, assuming Phil was a hybrid of some sort, immediately turned to face him. He was more than used to Techno staring at him, all analytical and like he wanted to figure out everything about the borrower, but Phil was-

Different.

Where Techno’s eyes were cold and hard, Phil’s carried a warmth and softness within them. Even the smile on his face was gentle and, for some reason, helped soothe the lingering anxiety Tommy felt. It was a look he had seen addressed to many children back at Borrowton, but never to him. From that expression alone, he immediately knew one thing.

Phil wouldn’t hurt him.

“Hello there.” The winged hybrid greeted, taking a step closer to the table but still keeping his distance. “Didn’t know someone got a roommate-”

“Infestation.” Techno quickly corrected with a snort. “I didn’t put out an add or anything. Roommates suck.”

“Aw, it’s okay to feel lonely, Tech-”

Tommy watched as the duo started bantering back and forth, Phil continuing to tease Techno while the other hybrid responded in kind with his own barbs and jests. It was weird seeing him be so openly social, and for once in his life he found himself speechless.

That is, until Phil’s eyes landed on him yet again.

He didn’t stiffen up, nor did he try to hide from the winged man’s gaze. He instead held it and waited to see what would happen next, immediately being surprised when Phil sent him that same gentle smile from earlier.

“It’s nice to meet you, mate. I’m Philza, but you can call me Phil.”

“Tommy.” He mumbled, voice barely loud enough to be heard.

He felt so out of his depth in this new situation, everything was moving so fast and he had already possibly befriended someone else? The kind look in the winged hybrid’s eyes certainly made it seem like he cared, which would imply that friendship was not far off, right?

“So, is he joining us?” Phil asked, turning to Techno and in turn missing the confused look that crossed the borrower’s face.

“Joining? What’s going on?” Tommy piped up, his curiosity helping him find his voice. “You two going out somewhere?”

“Phil and I need to make some farms.” Techno explained. “A bee farm and a turtle farm, but we need to gather the resources first. I wasn’t planning on you tagging along, but you can if you don’t bother Phil.”

Asking Tommy to behave was out of the question, he understood how excited the kid could get and in turn how forgetful and unobservant he could become. The bare minimum he could hope for was for Tommy to reign in his excitement just enough to stop him from bugging Phil and distracting him.

Like he expected, Tommy’s eyes lit up in excitement and he eagerly nodded. “Fuck yeah! We headin’ out now? I can go grab my stuff-”

“The sooner you get ready, the better.” Techno interrupted as he shooed him away. “So, scram and get ready.”

As Tommy rushed into the nearby borrower hole that he had thankfully made the day prior, his excited rambling cutting off not long after he disappeared from sight, Techno pointedly ignored the smug look Phil sent his way.

“So, adoption-”

“Eugh, cringe.” Techno immediately interrupted, not wanting the conversation to progress any further. “Taking in an orphan? Providing emotional support? Couldn’t be me.”

“Nice to know what you think of me.” Phil quipped. He let out a laugh when he saw the concerned, almost horrified, look that crossed his adopted son’s face. “Relax! Relax, it’s just a joke, mate.”

His amusement faded and his smile took on a more concerned edge as he looked Techno over, eyes landing on the familiar blood red cape. “You’re more high strung than usual. Did something happen?”

“You mean aside from the nuisance that invaded my home?” Techno dryly retorted. “And I’m…”

Lie, lie, lie-

“... As good as I can be.” He answered, voice growing quieter. A quick inspection of his father had him noticing the dark shadows under Phil’s eyes and how dull his feathers were compared to their typical luster. “You?”

“Eh, I’m holding up.” Phil shrugged. “L’Manberg’s been busy, keeps me busy too.”

The look of disgust and annoyance that crossed Techno’s face got a laugh out of the other man. “You still got something in mind for them, mate?”

“A plan, and some trips to the Nether.”

“Nice, tell me if you need anymore help-”

One of Techno’s ears twitched and he glanced over at the borrower hole, a clear sign that their conversation was finished for now. Together, they both watched as the cover to the hole was moved and Tommy stumbled out of it, a bag now slung over his shoulders.

He looked… relatively unprepared compared to the two armor wearing and weapon carrying hybrids.

“Is that everything you need?” Phil asked, frowning slightly as he took in the simple bag Tommy was carrying. “No tools?”

“... I have my axe? My grappling hook?” The borrower hedged as he picked up a rather shoddy looking stone axe that had been attached to his belt. “Dunno what else I’d really need, old man.”

Already seeing Phil starting to get all concerned parent thanks to the look on his face combined with the fluffing up of his feathers, Techno decided to jump in and spare Tommy from the mother henning that was about to happen.

… He also stubbornly ignored the faint ache of his heart, unintentionally recalling how Wilbur had given Phil that title and teased him relentlessly with it.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got him covered.” He interjected while striding towards the chest at the edge of the room. “Armor’s still a struggle, but I finished something else up.”

“Armor?” Tommy visibly perked up and stared intensely at Techno’s back. “What armor?”

“Your hypothetical armor.”

The borrower’s jaw dropped while Phil looked more than a little interested, stepping forward and glancing at the chest that was being rummaged in. Techno ignored the both of them until he found what he had been searching for.

Straightening up and facing the duo, he presented the item he had been working on. “I was planning on giving this to you later, but now works too.”

It was a needle. A simple needle forged out of some dark metal that looked wickedly sharp to the touch. It was the perfect weapon for someone Tommy’s size, and the borrower carefully accepted it as it was passed to him. He could see his reflection staring back at him in the carefully polished metal.

Why…

“If you stab yourself I’m taking it back.”

“Wh-I won’t!” Tommy shouted, quickly looking up and glaring at Techno. “I know how to use this! We’ve been practicing-”

“And we’ll keep practicing until you stop tripping over your own feet.”

“Fuck off!”

The winged hybrid let out a contemplative hum as he inspected the weapon. “Why not try enchanting it as well? Fire aspect could be helpful.”

“I’m not giving him something that’ll let him burn down my house, Phil.”

“I bet he would’ve done that by now if he really wanted to.” Phil chuckled while shaking his head. “And you know what I mean. A bit of pain won’t scare everyone off, but some fire could help with that.”

The unspoken a needle can’t pierce through all armor and fire might deal more damage.

Techno remained silent as he thought the suggestion over before eventually nodding. “Alright, I’ll look into enchanting it once we get back. We’re far enough behind on those farms and we need to get them finished as soon as possible.”

“How about you go and get those turtle eggs while I take Tommy to find some bees?” Phil suggested, smiling to himself when he saw how excited the borrower looked. “Gives you a break and splits up the work so we can get it done faster.”

“You sure you can keep up in your old age?” Techno teased. “Make sure you don’t hurt your back.”

The wing that lightly smacked his side along with the exaggerated eye rolling made him feel both warm and cold. The familiarity of the gesture bringing back fond memories, and reminding him that those moments would stay memories no matter what.

That there would always be someone missing from their family, even with the husk that had been left behind.

He could see that lingering grief in Phil’s eyes, too, recalling times that had long since passed. An unspoken agreement passed between the duo, a promise that neither would mention the tragedy that had struck their family while Tommy was around.

Their grief was not something they wanted to share, nor did either of them want to dampen the excitement he clearly felt. So, Phil kept smiling as he replied.

“It’s been a bit, but I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

xxxxxxxxxx

“THIS IS FUCKING AMAZING!!!” Tommy shouted, his voice quickly lost to the wind whipping around him. He heard Phil chuckle above him, and the borrower’s smile grew.

After practically begging the winged hybrid to take him flying, Phil had agreed with some conditions. The first was that Tommy was to be on his best behavior, no trying to jump out of the man’s hands or anything crazy like that. The second was that he couldn’t distract the flying hybrid, but conversations and the occasional excited exclamation was okay. As for the third…

He had to stay warm.

Part of Phil’s cloak had been wrapped around the borrower, blocking out the glacial gale. Gloved hands carefully cupped Tommy close, keeping him tucked against the winged hybrid’s chest. It was surprisingly cozy, and more than once he had zoned out and found himself unintentionally cuddling up to the man carrying him, listening to the steady beating of the powerful wings that made him soar through the air.

He wasn’t as warm as Techno was, but he doubted anyone could match the amount of heat he seemed to give off.

He was more than a little surprised at how quickly he had come to trust Phil, especially in comparison to Techno. While it had taken him some time to warm up to the pig-like hybrid, an experience that he was certain had been mutual, with Phil there had been an almost instantaneous feeling of trust he felt towards the winged hybrid.

It was honestly terrifying when he actually thought about it, how willing he had been to literally put his life in the hands of someone he had met only minutes ago, but at the same time it felt…

Right.

Like a puzzle piece sliding into place, the same feeling he had felt when Techno protected him oh so long ago. It wasn’t something he could explain with words or rationalize in any way. It just… was what it was.

A feeling that left him more hopeful than he had felt in years.

The sensation of descent that left his legs tingling and his stomach flip-flopping was enough to shake Tommy out of his thoughts, and he looked over the edge of Phil’s hands to see the snow covered ground slowly approaching them. A couple careful flaps of those massive wings slowly lowered them until Phil’s feet were resting on the ground.

“We have to do that again!” Tommy said, looking up and sending Phil a wide, excited smile. “It was awesome! And fast! Way faster than I thought an old man would be-”

“Alright, alright, settle down.” The winged hybrid chuckled. “We can’t do that with the bees-”

“Fuck the bees! Them and their queen!”

“But, we can always go flying again later.” Phil continued, fighting to keep down the laugh that bubbled up at Tommy’s words. “Probably not today though. Farms need to be made and all.”

To the borrower’s surprise, instead of being put down on the ground like he assumed, Phil lifted him up to his shoulder. He hesitated for a moment before carefully climbing over and situated himself among the folds of clothes and the side of Phil’s neck.

The man wore layers, and Tommy instinctively wrapped the outermost one around himself, unconsciously letting out a soft sigh as the heat sank back into him. He missed how the wing behind him was raised up higher, blocking out more of the brisk winds.

Phil knew he’d get a cramp at some point, but the last thing he wanted was for the tiny kid to freeze. His clothes weren’t made for the cold, something he’d have to look into later, and it was obvious Tommy had lived somewhere much warmer before ending up in Techno’s cabin.

Yet again, the man found himself wondering what events had led to Tommy winding up in the tundra. Had he gotten lost? Been separated from his family somehow? He didn’t know how much Techno knew about the kid’s situation, and resolved to ask about it once they got back.

Fortunately, it didn’t take all that long before they stumbled on some bees that had been buzzing around in the near empty tundra as they struggled to find flowers. The occasional hive could be spotted between the spruce trees as well, making this the perfect spot to abduct some bees.

The next several minutes were filled with the sounds of cheerful conversation as Phil slowly gathered up the bees and collected their hives. Tommy spent most of his time asking the hybrid about his wings and flying, while the borrower answered several questions about his own people. The answers were never too detailed, of course, just generalized explanations that wouldn’t risk exposing the location of Borrowton.

Despite the conversation bordering on some rather heavy topics, such as Tommy’s obvious lack of home and the fact that he had never heard about hybrids before, weird since he had met two before he had encountered any humans, they were able to steer it away from any risky questions.

In no way did Tommy wish to discuss the pain he had endured back in Borrowton, nor did Phil want to go into the injustices and discrimination that hybrids faced on a daily basis. Both topics were better suited for conversations much later down the line.

Unfortunately, even with his efforts to avoid talking and thinking about his old home, and the best friend he had left behind, the subject reared its ugly head eventually.

Caused by none other than a bee, of course.

It had been an especially curious bee out of the bunch they had gathered so far that spotted the borrower tucked away under a layer of green fabric. His hair had probably caught its attention, the bright blond extra visible thanks to the green surrounding him. Tommy laughed as the bee drifted closer, nearly bumping into him as it tried to inspect him. It was so large, and absolutely covered in fuzz. There had always been something about seeing bees that never failed to cheer Tubbo up-

Tubbo...

A sharp, agonized noise escaped him. Guilt surged through him as he slowly leaned away from the bee, scooting backwards and taking shelter behind Phil’s neck. He felt the man stiffen up before shooing the bee away.

“Tommy, you alright?” Phil asked, voice quiet so he didn’t accidentally upset the borrower further. “Did something happen? Did you get stung?”

“... No, it’s fine.” Tommy replied, pressing the fabric wrapped around him to his face. He could feel the chill that the tears slowly streaming down his cheeks brought on, but he refused to acknowledge them. “M’fine.”

Sensing the sudden melancholy that had taken over the borrower, the winged hybrid decided it was time to leave the snowy tundra. Carefully holding the leads in his hand, he trudged through the snow as the bees buzzed around them. “Let’s get back to Techno and see how many turtles he’s got left.”

“Got left?” Tommy repeated, mood slightly lifting at the change in topic. “You mean hatched?”

“Not exactly, mate. You’ll see what I mean when we get back.” Phil said while gently smiling at him. It was a smile that was shakily returned with one of Tommy’s own before fading a moment later.

The trip back was far more silent than the flight had been with the borrower making no jokes, nor commenting on their surroundings, and Phil not pressing and asking what was wrong. At least he didn’t have to worry about being interrogated and being forced to explain his feelings.

Explain Tubbo…

Returning to the cabin and finding Technoblade patrolling the perimeter of the turtle farm was enough to make that smile return to Tommy’s face and, when the hybrid started freaking out after the tiny turtle disappeared in a pile of snow, the laughter he let out was almost enough to make him forget about the ache in his chest.

Almost enough to distract him from the feelings of guilt that would haunt him for the rest of the day.

Tubbo.

I’ll come get you soon.

I promise.

xxxxxxxxxx

“This should be the place.” Tubbo quietly mumbled to himself, carefully hidden from sight. So far, he had barely been able to explore much of the expansive… town? City?

Whatever this place was, with all its structures made out of strange materials, it was massive, incomprehensibly large, and it made him worry all the more about how hard it would be to find Tommy in this mess of a place. To make matters worse, multiple times he had been forced to hide as people made their way across the paths.

All heavily armored and carrying shields, swords, bows, or axes.

This place was dangerous, very dangerous, and the sooner he found Tommy and got out of here, the better. The risk of being found was way too high, and what would happen to them after they were found-

No, he wouldn’t think of such things. Wouldn’t dare to think about the fact that Tommy could be dead, dying all alone-

Despite his efforts, such thoughts consumed his waking mind and permeated his subconscious. Ever since Tommy had first been forced out of Borrowton, Tubbo had not slept. Sure, he napped occasionally, but every time he shut his eyes he could not stop himself from imagining what could happen to Tommy when he was out there, all alone. It ate at him, even when he was awake, and left him far less mindful of his surroundings than he normally was.

As such, he was completely unaware of the figure looming over him until it was too late. Distantly, he noticed something blocking out the sun, a shadow falling over him, and it took him a moment to realize that the shadow was not shaped like a cloud-

He whirled around, terror filling him as he saw a pair of grey hands reaching for him, sunlight somehow streaming through them and making them seem… ghostly, as if they were not really there. He quickly stepped backwards, tripping over his own feet, and dropped to the ground. He cringed as pain raced up his wrists from his hands making impact with the ground, but he ignored it and scuttled backwards.

Unfortunately, he was far too slow to escape or find any sort of shelter to escape the towering being that had cornered him. Just as those hands closed in around him, he heard a cheerful voice ring out above him.

“Hello, friend!”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Did Phil end up spending an unfortunately short amount of time with Tommy? Yes, but that's fine. He'll be spending plenty of time with another borrower in need of emotional support!

#my story #fanfiction #dream smp #dream smp fic #sleepy bois inc #sleepy bois inc fic #borrower au #dsmp tommy #dsmp tubbo #dsmp techno #dsmp philza #dsmp ghostbur #borrower!tommy #borrower!tubbo

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yandere-daydreams · 5 years ago

Text

A Yandere!Hawks/OC piece for a very lovely anonymous commissioner, featuring her character, Miya, and the foul-feather man himself. This might be my first time writing for Keigo, but I feel like it went well enough. I may have taken a few creative liberties with his dialogue, though...

Word Count: 2.1k

TW: Non-Con, Semi-Public Sex, Groping, Entitlement and Delusional Mindsets.

It wasn’t that Miya didn’t like Keigo.

She didn’t like him, but she couldn’t say she disliked him, either. She respected his work as a hero, and appreciated the levity his reputation held, even if she wasn’t particularly fond of the young Pro when he was out of costume. Like everyone else, she’d had her run-ins with him, but as time went on and her life progressed, she seemed to see more of him, hear more of him, whether it was that laugh or that smirk or that lazy, smug tone that permeated his voice like rainwater overflowing from a gutter after a heavy storm. She couldn’t bring herself to hate him, but one day, she might.

One day soon, preferably.

That’d make rejecting him much easier than it was now.

Even now, it was difficult not to grit her teeth as her eyes darted towards his shoes, moving in pace with her own as she walked, her stride much faster than it had to be despite Keigo offering to take the lead. The incident had been over an hour ago, and Miya would like to think that she hadn’t seemed shaken. It was just a petty criminal, a thief looking for someone who’d cower at the first sight of claws and scales, but she’d always found it difficult to be intimidated by a quirk, however villainous it appeared. She’d been ready to defend herself, but Keigo was on the attack before she could make a move, and he was more than happy to take the credit when all the newscasters and amateur journalists arrived to document his feat, leaving Miya swept up in the chaos. He’d insisted on walking her home, afterward, and she hadn’t been able to think of a good excuse to tell him to fuck off.

How many times had he saved her, now? It could’ve been that they followed similar routes, or the recent influx in crime, but this had to be the fifth time he’d come to her rescue, if not the sixth. Vigilant crime-fighters weren’t an issue, but it was hard not to feel… unnerved by the frequency. Up until a few months ago, she’d never even seen a hero on patrol, and now one was trailing her, ready to lunge at the slightest hint of a treat. It was just her ego talking, she knew that, but her ego could be loud. Unignorable at the worst of times, unfortunately.

Keigo huffed, drawing her out of her thoughts, raising his arms and cupping his hands behind his head, forming a make-shift support as he glanced idly towards the sky. “Awfully thoughtful tonight,” He commented, filling the uncomfortable silence. He was smiling, but it was one of his reflexive grins, reassuring to most but off-putting to anyone who spent more than a moment in his company. Miya wasn’t proud to belong to the latter group. “You’re not gettin’ sick of me, are you? I’d hate to turn you off your favorite hero.”

“I prefer Endeavor,” She mumbled, more for herself than for him. Her eyes darted to the sidewalk, then the buildings on either side of the road. It was late, by now, so most of the shops were closed, but she could still see the signs and brands posted outside, each name more unrecognizable than the last. “Hawks--”

Keigo clicked his tongue, his smile faltering, a frown beginning to pull at the corners of his lips. “I thought I told you to call me--”

“Hawks,” She affirmed, her tone more authoritative than it had to be. “Are you sure this is a shortcut? None of this seems familiar, and it feels like we’ve gone too far… I think I’d know the best way to get to my own apartment, by now.”

Her skepticism earned her a glance out of the corner of his eye, half-obscured by his sleeve as he shifted to get a better look at her. With an inaudible sigh, he dropped his arms back to his sides, his smile softening as he took her wrist. She opened her mouth, but Keigo didn’t give her a chance to get anything out, holding a finger to his lips as he spoke. “Have I ever been wrong?” He asked, ignoring her hasty nod. “Just trust me, I’ll have you home in no time.”

Before she could protest, he was pulling her into a narrow alleyway between a convenience store and a larger, unnamed building, the space so narrow, they struggled to walk side-by-side. Away from the streetlights, it took her eyes a moment to adjust, but sight did little to alleviate her confusion. Rather, she only grew more unnerved as a fence came into view, chainlink but tall, too tall to easily be scaled. Again, she moved to voice her thoughts and again, Keigo had other plans. Plans that seemed to have less and less to do with keeping her safe.

She wasn’t sure how it happened. One second, she was just turning towards him, and the next, she was facing a brick wall, her hands coming up reflexively to support herself, Hawks’ arm wrapped around her waist and his chest pressed against her back, the bulk of his attire doing little to stifle how suffocated she suddenly felt, dread welling up and boiling over before she had a chance to stifle it. She tried to scream, but a downy glove was quick to stop her, shooting to her mouth and muffling the sound. Keigo only kissed the nape of her neck, cooing something unintelligible, like he had the right to try and calm her down.

“C’mon, baby, don’t make this harder than it had to be,” He muttered, a finger slipping below the waistband of her shorts. Instantly, panic set in, and she threw her weight against him, grappling and fighting for any opening she could get. Keigo’s hold tightened, and he let out a soft growl as he shoved her against the wall, two feathers shooting out from his wings and finding her sweater, long sleeves soon pinned to the solid stone, trapping Miya with them. Still, Keigo was gentle, slow, taking his time to work her shorts down to her thighs as if he didn’t have any place better to be. “We could’ve done this your way, but you just had to huff and groan until you lost your chance. We’re gonna do this how I want to, now.”

“Fucking pervert,” She spat, but her voice died in her throat as he pawed at her ass, pressing another kiss into the dip of her shoulder. Fabric rustled, something soft falling to the ground, his now free hand brushing past her thigh to rub against the seat of her panties, tracing her slit for a moment before pushing distinct, measured circles into her clit. Even with a layer of cloth and disgust separating them, his expertise was undeniable, each tic of his fingers and buck of his hips against her sending a shock through her system, uninvited but not unpleasant. Miya grit her teeth, her jaw locking into place and her eyes clenching shut in an effort to block him out, but there was nothing she could do to ignore the long, low whistle he let out as her hips twitched, dampness just beginning to accumulate on his fingertips. Keigo only nuzzled into her back, nearly purring in satisfaction.

“This might’ve been more romantic, if you weren’t so stubborn,” He mumbled, absentmindedly pulling her panties to the side as he spoke. Abruptly, two fingers were pushed inside of her, leaving her to clench and adjust as he scissored her open, alternating between curling and pumping, whichever made her knees buckle and needy, pathetic whimpers work their way past her lips. “Been planning it out for a while, since the first time I saved my little damsel in distress. Woulda bought you roses, taken you back to my place, all that shit. Guess we’ll save that for that later, though.” His palm came up, grinding against her clit, and Miya gasped, involuntarily pushing herself into his chest. Keigo chuckled, his ministrations becoming more aggressive. “Shoulda waited this time, too. You were just bein’ so cold, I didn’t think I could help myself.”

Miya tried to speak, but all that came out was a pitiful, incoherent stutter as he pulled away, his grip moving to her waist as he dragged her back, forcing her to brace herself against the unforgiving wall and pray for mercy. She felt the tip of his cock press against her cunt, but that was all the warning she got before he was pushing inside her, refusing to stop until he’d bottomed out with a blatant, shameless groan. The stretch was painful, too snug to mean anything good, but that didn’t stop Keigo from grinding against her, starting to thrust just as her legs gave out, leaving Keigo to hold her up. If he cared, though, she couldn’t tell, his hold on her hips growing bruising as he moved inside her, spikes of pleasure and pain striking at her core in unforgiving, unyielding waves. Tears blurred her vision, welling in the corners of her eyes, but moans mixed with the sobs, forming something hellish in the middle ground. Keigo cooed, his tone turning delicate, infantilizing. Adoring, if she was being optimistic, but Miya couldn’t find it in herself to be so positive.

“You’re so tight, baby. Are you still scared of me?” He snapped his hips against hers, making a point of relishing in the high-pitched whine that crawled out of her throat. She stopped making an effort to be quiet, suddenly finding herself thankful for the passing cars, the footsteps of distant pedestrians, her own breathy, heated pants. Anything to distract her from the wet, sloppy sounds of Keigo fucking into her cunt. “Don’t worry, we’ll change that,” He assured, before the air hitched in his lungs, his pace losing rhythm for the blink of an eye. “Or, maybe we won’t. I’m gonna take such good care of you… I get to be selfish about this, yeah?”

It might’ve been the adrenaline, or the fear or Keigo’s intensity or anything, but when one of his hands fell past her waist, reaching around to tease her clit… That was all she needed to clench around him, her chest seizing up and her knees knocking together as she came, the break from that constant, thudding pressure coming as a relief. And yet, it didn’t do anything to block out the feeling of Keigo pulling out, barely getting a fist around his cock before something thick and hot coated the back of her thigh.

There was silence, for a moment, only broken by the labored breaths both of them struggled to take. Miya didn’t have to worry about it for very long, though.

He kissed her jaw, the two red fathers keeping her pinned falling to the ground, lifeless. She could hear him fishing something out of his coat’s pocket, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at what it was. “Close your eyes, alright? We’re going home.”

A rag pressed against her lower face, and the world around her went black.

Miya was sore when she woke up, her head pounding and her legs aching despite the plush surface she’d been laid on. She was almost tempted to lean into it, to go back to sleep and worry about the pain another time, but a dip in the mattress was enough to inject a cold, sobering dose of reality into her veins, the severity of her situation slowly beginning to dawn on her. Hesitantly, she sat up, keeping her gaze focused on satin sheets and more pillows than any one person could ever need, her survey ending when her eyes landed on the sleek, polished metal shackle wrapped around her ankle, connected to a seamless tether that fell off the side of the bed. Miya felt herself deflate, her hope spiraling as quickly as her pride had.

She almost didn’t feel the lithe fingertips soon rubbing at her shoulders, a familiar face leaning into her side. “Don’t be too mad at me, princess,” Keigo mumbled, his voice quiet, comforting. As soothing as it was repulsive. “The chain’ll come off as soon as you come around. Be good for me, and I won’t have to make things any worse.”

“You kidnapped me,” She retorted, but her voice was weak, barely audible. She just glared, biting the inside of her cheek. “Hawks--”

“Keigo. You’re supposed to call me Keigo.” His hold around her shoulder tightened, and Miya cringed, crying out breathlessly, but Keigo only laughed, the sound forced, volatile.

Cruel.

“But, we’ll have plenty of time to work on that, won’t we?”

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mikauzoran · 4 years ago

Text

Lukadrien: Among the Wild Things: Chapter Six

Read it on AO3: Among the Wild Things: Chapter Six: Home

For the first week after the wedding, Luka and Adrien didn’t leave the house, let alone their bedroom, much.

They got out more the second week, visiting the clearing by Luka’s bend in the river several days and going into town to run errands for the family as well as to show Adrien around to help him get his bearings and introduce him to people.

Even still, Luka didn’t let Adrien out of his sight while they were out and about, sticking close by and keeping a sharp eye on the people around them when they were in public places.

“Do you think I need to start wearing my knife out?” Adrien inquired one evening at the beginning of the third week.

Luka gave a start, cocking his head in confusion. “Why? Do you feel unsafe?”

Adrien gave his head a shake. “Not at all. Everyone’s either civil or avoids me. More often than not, people are friendly. No one’s been hostile,” Adrien assured, giving his husband’s bicep a light squeeze. “It’s just that you’re always so tense when we go out, like you’re afraid someone’s going to jump out of the bushes and attack.”

Luka averted his eyes, cheeks taking on a salmon hue in his embarrassment. “I’m sorry if my behavior has given you the wrong idea. I just…worry too much.”

Adrien leaned in to give Luka’s cheek a bolstering lick. “Would it make you feel better if I was armed?”

Luka frowned, his expression turning skeptical. “My Love…I don’t want to sound patronizing, but what would you realistically do with a weapon, if you wore one?”

Adrien shrugged. “Not much if someone used magic on me, but, if it were a physical attack, I could defend myself.”

Luka’s skepticism morphed into indulgent affection as he reached up and stroked Adrien’s hair. “Adrien, that’s a nice idea, but…”

Adrien’s eyebrow quirked. “But what? You don’t think I could?”

“I didn’t say that,” Luka replied gently with that same glint in his eye, that of a parent humoring a child.

Adrien frowned. “Luka, I realize that I’m a comparatively fragile being to you, but I’m not defenseless. I’m an accomplished swordsman, and I’ve been trained in hand-to-hand combat. I can protect myself, so please stop babying me. I don’t appreciate it.”

Luka’s pale blue eyes widened in surprise, and he rushed to repair the damage. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound like I was looking down on you. I’m sure you’re right that you’re very capable, but my world is a dangerous place, and you’re not accustomed to it, so I worry about you.”

Adrien fixed his husband with a gaze brimming with determination. “Well, it’s my world now too, so I’m going to have to get accustomed to it, don’t you think?”

Luka grimaced, biting at the inside of his cheek. “I suppose that’s true, but…Adrien, I love you, and the thought of something happening to you makes me feel physically ill.”

Adrien’s expression softened as he reached up to cup Luka’s cheek. “Orpheus, I understand that I’m never going to be as strong as your people. I know that I seem ‘breakable’ to you, but I really need you to start trusting me.”

“Adrien—” Luka began to protest, but Adrien placed his thumb over Luka’s lips and shook his head.

“Shh. Yes, I know you trust me, but…maybe what I mean is that I need you to believe in me,” he clarified, eyes pleading with his mate. “Back at court, no one ever believed in me. They treated me like a child and always looked down on me. They spent all that time educating and training me, but no one actually believed I could do anything with all that knowledge. No one ever gave me the chance to prove myself.”

Luka’s eyes widened in understanding, and he began to nod.

Adrien took a deep breath, organizing his thoughts. “…I guess what I’m asking you is to give me a chance. We’re supposed to be partners, right?”

“Absolutely,” Luka confirmed, taking Adrien’s hands in his own and giving them a squeeze of solidarity.

“Then treat me as your equal,” Adrien entreated. “I don’t want to be babied and coddled and protected from everything anymore. I want you to treat me like a competent human being. I’m pretty sure I could be one if someone gave me the opportunity.”

“…Okay,” Luka breathed, resolving to do his best to take a step back and let go. “I…” He swallowed hard. “I believe in you.”

“Thank you,” Adrien whispered, eyes going damp with gratitude as he leaned in to press his lips to Luka’s. “That’s the best gift anyone could ever give me.”

Step one of learning to believe in Adrien took the form of sparring matches where the young prince completely took Luka by surprise.

“You’re…” Luka struggled to find the word from his position on the ground where Adrien had laid him out flat by blocking Luka’s swing and then sweeping Luka’s legs out from under him.

“…Phenomenal?” Adrien suggested smugly as he pulled his shirt back on. “Inspiring? Incredibly good looking?”

“Definitely that last one,” Luka chuckled, accepting Adrien’s hand up only to tug his husband down to the ground with him.

“Cheating,” Adrien pouted, leaning in to nip Luka’s earlobe.

“You’re actually quite proficient at unarmed combat,” Luka remarked, pleasantly surprised.

Adrien gave a snort. “I mean, I told you so.”

“Yes,” Luka agreed, “but I’m used to mortals bragging and overselling their skills.”

“Do I seem like a braggard to you?” Adrien clicked his tongue, feigning offense as he quietly relished Luka’s impressed approval.

“Never,” Luka assured, tussling Adrien’s hair and massaging his scalp.

Adrien luxuriated in the attention for almost a full minute before cracking his eyes open and grinning impishly. “Wanna get your butt kicked by a mortal again?”

“Yes please,” Luka whimpered. “It’s unbelievably attractive when you kick my butt.”

The next step in learning to believe in Adrien came when Max, Alix, Kim, and Ondine started paying him regular visits.

At first, it made Luka extremely nervous to watch his mate roughhousing with the others. Kim in particular made Luka uneasy because Kim didn’t treat Adrien any differently from a fae whereas the others were a little more cautious around the mortal.

The discomfort gradually faded, however, as Luka watched Adrien goof around with his new friends without some tragedy transpiring.

Slowly, Luka learned that he didn’t have to worry so much. Things were okay. Nothing bad was going to happen to Adrien, and even if Adrien weren’t strictly “safe”, he could still take care of himself.

Luka had gotten to know Adrien’s vulnerable side when the weeping prince had come to Luka’s clearing for refuge and shared his fears, sorrows, and insecurities with the kelpie. What Luka hadn’t seen before was Adrien’s strength, Adrien’s resilience, and Adrien’s courage.

It was breathtaking getting to know this new side of his mate, and Luka found himself falling all over again for this spunky, capable, mischievous Adrien—and just as hard as he had for the sensitive, compassionate, thoughtful boy he’d become enraptured with three months before.

Eventually, Luka got comfortable enough that Adrien could venture out on his own or with others without Luka fretting too much.

Adrien quickly found his place within the Couffaine family.

Rose continued to adore her new brother and patiently taught him everything he needed to know about cooking and cleaning and basic home upkeep.

They often went into town together and hung out in Rose’s favourite clearing by a charming bend in the river where the tributary turned into more of a trickling brook.

Rose introduced Adrien to her friends, and, soon enough, Adrien had a devoted little following among the naiads, dryads, and other nymphs.

Unfortunately, Rose and Adrien’s sudden close friendship made Juleka feel threatened because of all the time Rose was spending with the mortal. This tension, on top of the resentment Juleka already felt towards Adrien for supposedly taking her brother away from her, did not make things any smoother between Adrien and his mate’s sister.

Anarka quickly warmed to Adrien, though. As she got to know him better and saw how Luka and Adrien were together, it was easier for her to set aside her earlier misgivings about the relationship.

Adrien soon found his place in fae society by serving as Anarka’s intern as she went about her clan leader duties.

Since Adrien had been raised and educated to one day become ruler of his kingdom, he knew a fair deal about government and policy. He found it fascinating to study the ways in which a democracy differed from a monarchy, and he discovered that he really enjoyed following Anarka around, observing how she interacted with her constituents, and acting as a sounding board to help her come up with creative solutions to the various problems the community faced.

“I can’t tell you how nice it is that one of my kids is finally taking an interest in my work,” Anarka guffawed over dinner one night, clapping Adrien proudly on the back. “Dri has a real knack for government!”

“Of course he does,” Luka readily agreed, smiling in satisfaction at his mother’s praise of his mate. “He’s intelligent, a fast learner, kind-hearted, and resourceful. It’s not surprising that he’s a natural.”

Rose gave Adrien’s hair a playful tussle, cooing, “That’s our boy!”

Adrien looked to Anarka, tentatively inquiring, “I wouldn’t be eligible to someday run for a government position, would I? There isn’t some way I could get…like…fae citizenship or something?”

Anarka bit her lip, considering. “I don’t recall anything like this ever coming up, so I’m not sure, but…if this is something you’re interested in pursuing long-term, stick with me. I’ll help you get your feet wet. Maybe then, in a few years, people will recognize you and be familiar with the kind of work you do. If enough people support you and want you to represent them, I don’t see why you being mortal should be a problem. We’ll get them to accept you into the community before too long, Mon Poisson,” she assured, resting a supportive hand on his shoulder. “Don’t you worry.”

“Thank you, Capitaine.” Adrien beamed, overflowing with delight at feeling like he had finally found a place where he belonged.

The sensation left him when Juleka spoke up.

“If you want to work in government so much, why don’t you just go home?” she asked, tone honestly curious and devoid of any of the usual spite. “I mean, you’ve got a whole kingdom to run, don’t you?”

Adrien’s gaze dropped to his plate. He could still feel Juleka’s inquiring eyes on him, and it made his cheeks burn as he bashfully mumbled, “That place isn’t my home.”

“His home is with us,” Anarka confirmed, shooting a reproving look her daughter’s way.

Juleka put her hands up in surrender and dropped the topic, not pressing any further.

“Who wants blackberry cobbler?” Rose interjected, trying to restore peace and balance. “Dri and I just made it this afternoon, and it’s scrumptious.”

Under the table, Luka gave Adrien’s knee a supportive squeeze, eliciting a tired smile from Adrien who placed his hand on top of Luka’s and squeezed back.

Time gradually slipped by, and the leaves morphed from vibrant green to blood red, burnt orange, and saffron yellow before fading to mottled brown and drifting down to coat the forest floor in a crunchy layer of debris.

Winter snuck in, putting a prickly chill into the air as it entered Adrien’s lungs.

Small clumps of ice began to form in the water, and Adrien started to worry about the lake freezing, trapping him underneath.

“Little Prince, you’re not going to drown,” Luka coaxed, pulling his mate in closer one night when Adrien awoke from the recurring nightmare.

“I feel like I can’t breathe,” Adrien whimpered.

“Here. Let me share some of my air,” Luka offered, pressing his lips to Adrien’s.

“…S-Sorry,” Adrien panted when they broke apart. “I feel like such a baby for freaking out like this.”

“No, Adrien,” Luka cooed, smoothing his husband’s hair. “It’s okay. It’s a perfectly understandable fear. Nothing to be ashamed of…but there’s no need to worry. The lake never freezes solid, and my powers protect you. You’re perfectly safe.”

Adrien snuggled back into Luka’s chest and exhaled an enormous sigh. “…My mother drowned.”

Luka craned his neck to try to get a glimpse of Adrien’s expression as he whispered a stunned, “What?”

“Almost seven years ago. When I was thirteen,” Adrien added softly. “I was terrified of taking a bath for a couple months afterwards.”

“You never said anything,” Luka accused, thinking back with dread to all the times he’d joked about drowning Adrien the first two months of their friendship.

Adrien shrugged. “It didn’t seem relevant. I wasn’t scared until I started worrying about the lake freezing over and being stuck down here. I wasn’t scared after the first time you pulled me into the river and kissed me so I could breathe. It’s just the thought of being trapped that’s freaking me out.”

Luka placed a whisper of a kiss to the top of Adrien’s head. “You will never be trapped ever again,” he promised. “I know you’ve felt that way your whole life and that freedom is still new for you, but this is permanent. Things will never go back to the way they were…and I will never let you drown.”

“Thanks, Orpheus,” Adrien mumbled into Luka’s chest, holding his husband tighter as he drifted back to sleep.

Adrien was in the kitchen, helping Rose to prepare the New Year’s feast when Juleka came down the steps from the deck and poked her head in, resting her elbows on the countertop.

“Sweetie, do you think you could spare Dri for fifteen minutes, or do you need him?” she inquired of Rose, tipping her head to the side.

“We just got everything in the oven, so I should be able to manage,” Rose replied, taking off her oven mitts and turning to quirk a suspicious eyebrow at her mate. “Why do you ask?”

Juleka shrugged. “I just wanted his help with something.” She shifted her gaze to Adrien. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah, absolutely,” Adrien readily agreed, eager to help his sister-in-law and hopefully win brownie points.

In the three months since marrying into the family, Adrien didn’t feel like he’d made much progress with Juleka, and he was keen to improve the situation any way that he could.

“Great. Get your coat and meet me on the shore,” Juleka instructed with what passed for the hint of a smile.

Three minutes later, Adrien found his sister-in-law sitting by the lakeshore, skipping stones absentmindedly.

“Here I am,” he announced his presence so as not to startle her. “What did you need help with, Juleka?”

Her auburn eyes lazily came to rest on him, and she stood and motioned for him to follow. “Walk with me. I wanted to talk with you.”

“What about?” Adrien inquired nervously, his stomach starting to tie itself into pretzels as she led him into the woods.

She kept walking, not bothering to answer until the lake was out of sight, swallowed up by the enchanted trees.

Only when they’d reached a clearing did Juleka turn to face him, breathing out a long sigh and crossing her arms over her chest.

“I’m going to be straight with you,” she informed wearily. “I’ve actively tried to dislike you, but I just don’t. You’re polite and kind, and you do a good job helping out around the house. You’re a good cook. You’re fairly quiet, and you stay out of my way,” she verbally ticked off, and Adrien briefly dared to hope that this was going to be a positive conversation.

“I’ve tried to hate you,” Juleka stressed, “but I just don’t, so what I’m about to say is nothing personal.”

Adrien’s chest tightened, and he mentally braced himself for whatever hurtful thing his sister-in-law was getting ready to say next.

“What would it take to get you to leave?” she earnestly inquired and then waited expectantly for his response.

Adrien’s brow began to crinkle in confusion. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“What’s your price?” Juleka rephrased, asserting, “I know you have a price. All humans do.”

Adrien staggered backward as if physically assaulted by the declaration. “Price?” he repeated, stunned and still trying to process her words.

“What would I have to give you to get you to leave my brother alone and go back to your castle where you belong?” she snorted indignantly, losing patience as he seemed to try to play innocent.

Adrien’s ears started to ring.

“I thought Luc would have lost interest in you by now,” she grumbled with a shake of her head. “His infatuations usually pass within a month, but this is getting dangerously serious. He’s obsessed with you, and I’m starting to get scared,” she confessed, the fear evident in her flame-like eyes.

“He’s completely lost his mind. He’s talking about dying with you,” Juleka hissed, wrapping her arms around herself tighter, trying to hold in her anxiety and terror. “He says he can’t live without you. Do you know how insane that is?”

Adrien did not know, because what Juleka was describing summed up his feelings for Luka pretty well, so the sentiment was mutual.

“Our people live centuries,” Juleka stressed, trying to get her point across. “At best, you’ll live maybe another sixty or seventy years. You say you love him. If you really loved him, would you steal hundreds of years from him? Would you take away all of that time, all of those experiences he could have?” she pleaded.

Adrien averted his gaze, unable to find his voice to answer as he stared at the blades of grass carpeting the forest floor, still magically flourishing despite the bitter cold.

“I guess what I’m really asking is: Do you love him? …Or are you selfish?” she challenged.

At the beginning of the year, Adrien would have slunk away with his tail between his legs, but, in the five months he had known Luka, the three months that they had been married, Adrien had changed. He’d begun to understand an important truth: the fact that he was worth something, the fact that he was likeable and deserving of love.

Adrien took a slow inhale and swallowed hard, looking up to meet his sister-in-law’s eyes as he declared, “I love him…so the thing I want more than anything is for him to be happy…and it sounds like the thing that makes him happy more than anything is me.”

Juleka’s eyes went wide in surprise.

She had expected the normally meek Adrien to fold and give in when confronted. She had never anticipated this kind of response.

“So, I’m going to stay by his side as long as I live,” Adrien decreed with all the authority of a nobleman certain of being heeded. “I’ll do my best to persuade him to live on without me, but what he does after I’m gone is up to him and you and Rose and Anarka. If he already feels like he can’t live without me, how would it help matters to deprive him of me even sooner by leaving?”

Juleka didn’t reply. She hadn’t considered this. She’d just been thinking that, if Adrien left, things would go back to the way they were before. She’d get her brother back, and Luka would no longer be in danger.

“Besides,” Adrien added more softly. “There’s nothing you could give me to make me leave. I gave up wealth and power and comfort to be with him so that I could have freedom and love and a feeling of belonging. I already have everything I want, Juleka. I’m sorry that my happiness is making things hard for you.”

She blinked, opening and closing her mouth several times, trying to form some kind of retort but completely at a loss.

“Well,” Adrien exhaled. “If there’s nothing else you need, I should really get back to helping Rose in the kitchen. Thank you for bringing your concerns to my attention.”

With a polite nod, Adrien turned on his heel and headed back home.

Later that night, after the New Year’s feast, Juleka and Adrien were in the kitchen washing dishes when Juleka muttered, “You didn’t tattle on me,” in honest surprise.

Adrien blinked, looking up from the plate he was rinsing in confusion. “I’m sorry. What?”

“You didn’t tell the others what I talked to you about earlier,” she elaborated, peering up at him curiously from the cup she was drying.

He shrugged, looking away. “What good would that do? It would only cause discord and get you in trouble, and I don’t want that. For my mate’s sake as well as my own, I just want to live here in peace and get along with everyone.”

Juleka hummed pensively, considering Adrien’s reasons.

“Besides,” he continued in a whisper. “I sort of get why you’re acting this way. You love your brother, and you think I’m a threat. You’re just trying to protect him. Honestly, we both want the same thing; we just have different ideas about how the goal should be achieved. I can’t fault you for doing what you think is right.”

Juleka gave a snort of a laugh. “No, Your Highness, you really, really could if you tried. The problem is you’re too good. Alya’s right about you. You’re a total cupcake.”

“I know that you’re making fun of me, but I’m choosing to take it as a compliment,” Adrien replied with a charming smile that Juleka had to exert a lot of effort in order to pretend that she was immune to.

“Suit yourself…Cupcake,” Juleka snickered.

Adrien had been with the Couffaines for six months when winter’s grip on the land began to loosen, and the trees stretched their limbs, yawning into bloom.

One day, Juleka came back from town early, flying down the stairs as if pursued, her basket almost empty of the items she had been sent to purchase.

“Adrien!” she shouted, stumbling into the main cabin, eyes wide in alarm.

Adrien gave a start, looking up from the strings of Luka’s lyre where his husband was positioning Adrien’s fingers as Luka taught Adrien to play.

Anarka looked up from her magazine to glare at her daughter, scolding, “Juleka, not so loud. Anyone could hear you, shouting like that. Even the fish have ears.”

Rose stood from her place on the couch, going to her wife. “Juju, what’s wrong? What happened?”

Juleka shook her head, holding up a hand to assure Rose that she was fine as she hurried over to Adrien. “Prince Adrien of the Kingdom of Agreste…right?” she inquired cautiously, as if afraid of cutting the wrong wire of a ticking bomb.

“How do you know that?” Luka growled in warning, wrapping his arms around Adrien more tightly in protection.

“You two are loud, and the walls aren’t that thick,” Anarka scoffed, half-amused.

Juleka kept shaking her head. “In town. I ran into Alya. She’s always going to the human city. She said King Gabriel…” Juleka gulped, struggling to compose herself as she tried again, “…Your father is dead.”

#Lukadrien #Miraculous Ladybug #Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction #Adrien Agreste #Luka Couffaine #Juleka Couffaine #Rose Lavillant #Anarka Couffaine #Fae AU #Fae Luka #Fluff #Drama #Supportive Luka Couffaine #Mikau's Writings #Among the Wild Things

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ve1vetyoongi · 5 years ago

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all aboard! (the passion express) | knj

Pairing: namjoon x reader

Genre: smut, office worker!namjoon.

Word count: 10.8k

Summary: There were not many things that got your blood boiling in the same way that two simple words could. Kim Namjoon. The name of your irritating and (unfortunately enough, as the universe would have it) incredibly handsome co-worker. Which is exactly why you never expected to find your self on your knees for him on the train home.

⇢ (or: in which Namjoon thinks you’re hot when you’re mad.)

Warnings: extremely public sex, dom namjoon, exhibitionism, oral (m recieving), thigh riding, kinda daddy kink, fingering, dirty talk, unprotected sex (stay safe kids), rough sex. also, namjoon in a shirt and tie (yum).

A/N: so. this happened. PURE FILTH. remind me not to scroll through “office worker namjoon” mood boards at 1am. p.s. train toilets r always gross so don’t do this (i warned u).

Playlist: visit my playlist page here and select “all aboard”.

⇢ Masterlist: x (links will be added once tumbr stops being a douche :/)

There were not many things that got your blood boiling in the same way that two simple words could.

Kim Namjoon.

The name of your irritating and (unfortunately enough, as the universe would have it) incredibly handsome co-worker.

For the most part your job was perfect; a career in book publishing had always been your dream and spending hours with your nose deep in the pages of new manuscripts and having afternoon tea with authors on weekdays (fit with triangular sandwiches and miniature sponge cakes - paid for with the company card, of course) all in the name of “working” was exactly how you envisioned it - if not more.

That was until Namjoon joined the company six months ago. The day he turned up in the elevator in his stupid suit jacket, despite the dress code being business casual, was the beginning of a journey filled with bitterness, anger and a dread for working hours. And apparently the beginning of an undeniable, all consuming school girl crush which just made you hate him more.

You would be lying if you said you took notice of him immediately. I mean sure, you noticed the hoard of girls who traipsed behind his polished dress shoes, using excuses like coffee refills and desperate quests for paper clips to unashamedly flirt with him.

But you supposed you didn’t truly notice Namjoon until he made it utterly impossible for you to ignore him.

It all started when you began to notice your pens disappearing from the pot on your desk. First it was your red marker and then it was your pink highlighter and you were sure you were just misplacing things or suffering from short term memory loss until you noticed the pile up of stationary on Namjoon’s desk that you distinctlyremembered buying last week.

You decided to be civil, putting any earlier first impressions behind you to confront him politely, only to be met with a grumble about how they just “turned up there.”

Not even an apology, you mused, sending a seething glare his way while you rearranged your pens neatly where they belonged. What an asshole.

After that, every little thing he did seemed to grind your gears. The way he whistled along to the monotonous pop music that crackled out of the office radio, the off-pitch tune droning on and on until you excused yourself with a tight lipped smile before you lobbed a hole puncher at his head.Or the way he would empty the coffee pot without refilling it for the next person and how he always forgot to reset the timer on the microwave.

And then came the management meeting from Hell where what was supposed to be your turn to pitch a new project turned into Namjoon meeting each of your ideas with a bored eye roll and a condescending head shake. He even had the audacity to offer to go over the project out of hours, to “help you.” As if he suddenly had a life time of experience in publishing and you were nothing but an intern.

His pitch, however, went down a treat (much to your dismay).

From then on you found yourself bickering over the pettiest of disputes at every opportunity you could find - desperate to get under his skin, a thirst for satisfaction only quenched by well and truly pissing him off.

That’s when your vendetta against him began. You managed to convince yourself it wasn’t the way he looked through you at the office or the way he smirked at you knowingly when the shorts he wore in the summer made your mouth water or the way he was completely, utterly, positively uninterested in you in any way other than as the co worker he liked to taunt for fun.

And he made sure you knew it, too.

Like when he deliberately left the office blinds open knowing full well that you had a front row view as he so graciously walked Seo Yuna to her car in the lot after work hours - even glinting through the sun and giving a snide wave as though he knew you were watching him from your desk.

Was he trying to rub it in? Was he aware that everyone in the goddamn nine storey office block wished he would look their way? Nothing would surprise you. Just add narcissistic to the list of bad qualities he possessed.

If that was his intention you were ashamed to admit it worked; the pang of jealousy in your chest when he rested his elbows on the car to duck into Yuna’s open window taking you by surprise. And the red hot burn as your fingers pressed angry half moons into your palms to control the swoon that threatened to surface when his deep chuckles fluttered through the open window was enough to confirm one thing:

Yeah, you definitely had a crush on this guy.

And once again, you hated him - for having the ability to turn you into a puddle of lust and for making you want to giggle like a teenager and sit on the thighs that looked so good in those goddamn pants and for setting your pulse at a pace that was most definitely unhealthy and probably categorized you as critically at risk of a heart attack - just by looking at him.

Namjoon was either utterly oblivious or completely uncaring since he seemed intent on pushing you to your limits - and finally, in a climax of events, today was the day when he reached his clumsy-kinda-obnoxious-yet-annoyingly-attractive-while-doing-so peak and any grip you had on your dignity disappeared, setting the angry beast that had remained caged inside you free in the middle of the office.

When you returned from your lunch break your eyes narrowed in on the desk drawer left slightly ajar immediately - your desk was usually meticulously organised - you watched a documentary about decluttered spaces improving productivity (much to the amusement of Namjoon who brushed his own messy habits off as being a sign of “creativity”), so you knew it wasn’t your doing - raising the question of who exactly had the audacity to destroy the harmony of your work space.

The answer was obvious. Nobody else in the office was blatantly bold enough to steal from someone else’s drawer. Except one person in particular, perhaps…

Yes.Your suspicions were confirmed when you peered over your cubicle to glare at Namjoon’s. He was wearing a black shirt today and it stretched deliciously over his broad shoulders, tie resting loosely around the vein in his neck that rose to prominence when he clenched his teeth in concentration, pencil scribbling furiously in the margins of the thick manuscript resting on his crossed knee.

And right next to him, a hot pink stapler balanced haphazardly on a stack of disorganized papers. A hot pink stapler that was absolutely tucked neatly in your drawer before you left for lunch.

Namjoon remained engrossed in his work, unaware of the way your face had begun to heat up with rage. Or maybe the pinkish tinge was a result of the way he pushed his thick framed designer glasses up the bridge of his nose with his forefinger. God he always looked so good in those glasses. Every time he swapped out his contacts you wanted to walk right over there and -

“No,” You told yourself sternly, biting your lip as you desperately tried to ignore the way your legs had turned to jelly in your shoes. “He’s the worst! You hate him!”

I hate him, I hate him, I hate him…

The same mantra swirled in your head as you took a breath of courage and stalked in the direction of the stapler that rightfully belonged to you. It was about time you stopped taking Namjoon’s shit. It was about time you finally gave him a piece of your mind.

I hate him, I hate him, I…

You reached his desk all too quickly, placing your hands on your hips and staring down at him in a way that you hoped conveyed your vexation. He remained oblivious to your presence for a moment. That was, until, the sound of your exasperated sigh drew his attention, forehead creasing in confusion while he stared straight back at you with lips parted quizzically. Had you caught the Kim Namjoon off guard?

(God, if there was one thing you didn’t hate it was his face.)

You were the one to break the silence. “I told you not to steal my stuff, didn’t I?” His expression remained blank until you pointed a finger at the alarmingly bright office appliance. “I want my stapler back.”

Namjoon’s features shifted into an amused smirk, snickering when you began tapping the toe of your shoe with growing impatience. “I didn’t steal it.” He countered. “I borrowed it.”

“Namjoon, you and I both know you never asked permission,” you huffed, arms crossing your chest. “I think you just wanted to piss me off.”

Namjoon visibly scoffed. “Me? Piss you off?” His eye roll set your pulse racing with rage, only heightened by the sarcasm that laced his tone. “It’s not my fault you’re little Miss Uptight is it?” He shook his head, diverting his attention back to the stack of paper in front of him and just like that he dismissed you with a wave of his hand and a click of his tongue. “Just take it and go, I’m busy.”

“Don’t you dare ignore me, Kim Namjoon,” you spat, curled fist slamming down on top of his booth hard enough to make him jump in his seat, satisfaction spreading through your chest at the sight alone. “I’m not upright! You’re just an asshole who decided to make my job a misery! And for what? Because I’m not at your beck and call like Yuna?”

Oops. Maybe that was a bit too far…

“Yuna?!” Namjoon spluttered between surprised gasps of laughter. “What does she have to do with the fact that you’re a priss who never learned to share?”

You tried to ignore the embarrassing heat that had risen in your face, diverting your eyes from his. “If I’m such a priss why don’t you share her stuff instead?”

He raised his eyebrows at your pout. “Why? Are you jealous?”

“No! Of course not, I’m just…” You trailed off. He leaned back into his seat, the same stupid smug smirk turning up the corners of his mouth. As much as you tried to ignore it, it made your stomach flip. Namjoon looked satisfied, as if your stunned silence and attempt to stutter an excuse was exactly what he wanted.

By this point the entire office was staring at the both of you, including Yuna who looked almost as embarrassed as you did as she pretended to be unaware of the entire situation by rummaging through the contents of her bag for the lip balm she “lost” this morning and conveniently “could not seem to find.”

“Look, Namjoon, just give it back okay?” You nodded towards the stapler, impatient to just be behind your desk booth away from the prying eyes of your coworkers and more importantly away from Namjoon’s accusing gaze.

He ran a hand through his side part, gelled strands effortlessly messy. “Fine.” He grabbed the stapler and held it out to you with an innocent smile. You narrowed your eyes and he simply nodded in encouragement. “Here, take it.”

“See was that so hard-” Before your fingers could take the appliance from his grasp, he ripped it away again. With a dark chuckle he kicked his feet up onto the desk, revealing his annoyingly cute doughnut socks that nearly broke your resolve if it weren’t for the vengeful way he stared at you atop the rim of his glasses.

“Say please, Y/N.”

The glint in his eye tipped you over the edge, the elastic of your patience finally snapping when you launched at him without a second thought about repercussions. “Say please?!” All that mattered right now was making Kim Namjoon pay for being the most inconvenient, bothersome and punchable man on the planet.

Before you could think, both your hands were on the stapler and pulling with all the force you could muster. Namjoon seemed shocked at your brave act of force before he responded with a tug of equal strength, determined not to let go. “If you had said please in the first place we wouldn’t be in this situation!”

“So you’re uptight and ill mannered?” He got out between gritted teeth.

“I’m…not…uptight!”

You had begun a tug of war, both unconscious of the fact that twenty pairs of eyes were watching the childish events unfold curiously. Namjoon was red in the face as he tried to rip the stapler from your grasp and you had to lift a shoe onto the seat of his chair to keep your balance.

The move gave you a power advantage and with one last pull, the stapler was yours. Triumph plastered your face in the form of a self-satisfied smile - though not for long. Namjoon was breathing heavily through his nose, knuckles white with irritation. Before he could think better of it, he was sliding the wheels of his chair back, sending you flying into his desk and to both of your dismay, the mug of steaming coffee that sat on top of it.

“Watch out!” Too late.

The crash that followed was loud enough to elicit shocked gasps from those around you. The hushed whispers that filled the room before fell to an eerie silence as you tried to pull yourself to your feet with no luck, collapsing in a pile of splintered wood and printer paper.

“Uhh, Y/N? You’ve got a little coffee on your blouse.”

And that’s how you found yourself on the subway platform, waiting for a train to take you in the opposite direction of home but rather towards the nearest launderette.

You pulled the black blazer you donned tighter around your chest, not because of the evening chill which had set into the air by now but rather to hide the unmistakable brown coffee stain which seeped across the fabric of your blouse.

The launderette was closing in just under an hour and your train was nearly five minutes late already and you couldn’t help but grit your teeth in irritation when you recounted the days events over and over in your head.

This was all his fault. If Namjoon wasn’t such a shameless douche you would be home by now, heels off, feet kicked up while a re-run of The Vampire Diaries soothed the tension ache in your temples.

But no. You were waiting for a train to take you half way across town so you could wash this freaking blouse in time for the weekly company meeting tomorrow. It was an important one - you were going to finally present the pitch you had been working on for nearly four months - so everything had to be perfect.

This job meant everything to you, not that Namjoon would understand that - and you were determined not to let him ruin this for you.

“Damn Kim Namjoon.” you scowled at the ground, kicking an empty can across the scuffed platform floor.

“Either you know another Kim Namjoon or I arrived just in time?”

A familiar voice sounded behind you. Your mouth dropped slightly, icy shock snatching the colour from your face as you registered who it belonged to.

Sure enough, spinning on your heels revealed the one and only Kim Namjoon who you had grown to know and hate. Still in the black shirt which was now rolled up his forearms and loosened at the collar, he stood with his back against a pillar, smiling down at you bemusedly with his hands slung into his pockets like this was the most normal occurrence in the world.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

“What?” You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. “Are you haunting me now?”

He actually laughed at that. “Actually, this is my train home. Don’t usually see you here at this time so it seems like you are following me.”

“Following you?!” You couldn’t help the way your voice hitched incredulously, drawing the attention of passerby’s who side stepped around you nervously. “If it wasn’t for your little show today then I’d be on a train travelling as far away from you as possible right now.”

“Why aren’t you?”

“I have to go clean this.” You ripped open the front of your blazer revealing the coffee soaked garment covering your chest.

Namjoon bit his cheek to hold back a chuckle. He knew it would just set you off even more. You were a few feet smaller than him and the way you stared up at him with fiery eyes, not quite intimidating despite your best efforts, almost had him clutching his sides.

“As far away from me as possible huh…”

“What?”

“That’s what you want?”

You turned up your nose, confused. “That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

“It’s funny, really.” He let out an amused snort, not at you directly but rather to himself. The act annoyed you even more.

“What is?”

“Just that you never seem to be far away from me at all.” Namjoon rolled his eyes. “Oh Namjoon stop stealing my shit, oh Namjoon stop using all the printer ink-”

“I’m done with you now.” You turned your back to him, drowning out the tinny voice he used to mock you. He had a fair point…but only because his naturally irritating demeanour drew you into his fuck ups like a magnet.

“Because you think it’s always my fault right? God forbid you are the problem!”

You blinked. You?

“Like when, asshole?” You scoffed. “Name one time I gave you a reason to hate me?”

Namjoon reached into his backpack, pulling out a stack of papers that limply fluttered as a train breezily left the station. The edges were crumpled and the middle stained brown, ink nearly illegible. “You can clean your blouse but how about my manuscript?”

You thought back to earlier that day. It must be the one he was working on before the…accident. And to his credit, it looked like it was in pretty bad shape.

“If you weren’t so hard to ignore then maybe neither of us would be in this mess!”

You could feel the tension rising between you by the minute. If he wasn’t careful you would be responsible for another scuffle and this time you weren’t sure you could resist breaking his nose and a trip to the ER was not what you needed right now.

Namjoon’s face had darkened considerably too. You couldn’t help but find the way he tightened his jaw kind of hot. Stop, Y/N.

“Then let’s make this easier for the both of us.”

“Huh?”

He gestured between you. “When the train comes I will pretend you’re just a pretty girl on her way home and you can pretend I’m just another annoyingly tall guy and we’ll forget this day ever happened.”

“What’s the point of that? We still work together every day?”

He let out a sigh, exasperated by your persistence “Because then we can see who the real problem is? Who starts the next fight?”

"Fine!” The word came out a little more childishly than you had intended. What was his point here? To reinforce the fact that he hated your guts and couldn’t even stand to make small talk on the train for thirty minutes? “And then you’ll see that the whole problem is you.”

Wait….did he call you pretty?

Whatever. You could do this right? He was just trying to get into your head, trying to make you think that you were the issue here.

TRAIN NOW ENTERING PLATFORM. PLEASE MIND THE GAP.

The transport announcement alerted you of the trains arrival a few seconds before the clunky metal could be heard rattling into the station.

You averted his gaze, an uncomfortable atmosphere settling.

“Well, all aboard.” He said, arm outstretched, head nodding towards the open train door as if to say after you.

So now he has manners?

You gave a tight lipped smile in thanks, stepping onto the train. The carriage was completely full, no spare seats in sight, so you settled for holding on to the bar above your head, strategically making sure your back was to Namjoon. You were determined to show him that you couldn’t care less about his existence.

Staying true to his word, Namjoon joined a huddle of people at the opposite end of the carriage, staring sweetly into the distance as if he was utterly unaware of your identity.

You let out a sigh of relief. Maybe this was a good thing.

You attempted to busy yourself by staring out of the window; the trees and the sky whizzed into a turquoise blur like watercolour on canvas. Try as you might, your mind couldn’t help but wander back to the figure you wanted to desperately ignore when you noticed Namjoon’s reflection in the glass.

It was silly but you realised you had never looked at him properly before. In your head he was just a target of your rage, a face featuring often in your imagination’s gruesome revenge master plans. But, now felt like the first time you were really seeing him; the way he bobbed his head to the music that blasted a little too loudly through his headphones and how his dimple showed when he smiled politely at other passengers and how his arms cradled the sodden manuscript like it was fine china. Maybe you were too focused on yourself to see just how important this job was to Namjoon, too.

And although you had noticed his face before - it was hard not to - it was always during rushed glances over the top of your office booth, eyes quickly diverting and cheeks reddening when you were sure he caught you looking or when he would break yet another mug in the office kitchen and you would help him clean up the ceramic, ignoring the way his own cheeks turned pinkish.

But this time, through the safety of the glass which acted as a welcome barrier, you could study him more closely. The cute flush of his nose and the way his eyes were a little puffy from staying up too late reading. Maybe there was more to this guy than just an irritating coworker after all.

The train came to a halt and an entourage of fresh passengers pressed into the already tight carriage. A chorus of sorry’s buzzed in the air as more and more people elbowed their way into the confined space, pushing you down the train and squeezing the air out of your lungs until you were pressed into a corner, back uncomfortably flush to the torso of a taller body.

The familiar cologne told you all you needed to know and you shut your eyes tightly, sucking on your teeth as you cursed the universe for shredding whatever dignity you had managed to retain.

A glance over your shoulder revealed a preoccupied Namjoon, desperately apologising to someone behind him whose coffee he managed to spill with his inconveniently pointy elbow.

“I’m so sorry man! Oops..sorry again I…”

“So much for ignoring each other,” you snorted, denying the fact that it was you who bumped into him. You wouldn’t give in so easily.

He looked genuinely apologetic, swinging his arms wildly but only managing to make the situation worse by very nearly smacking an older lady square in the head. His height had its downsides, clearly.

“Sorry…” he began, ready to launch into another apologetic spiel. “Oh.” Except, he deadpanned when he finally looked down and saw none other than yourself staring straight back up at him.

His eyes narrowed smugly. “Well, well, well.”

You simply laughed, nodding towards the evidence of his clumsiness. “Are you on a secret coffee spilling mission today?”

You expected him to throw something back at you, to start another endless fight about who was at fault. Except Namjoon wasn’t listening. His eyes widened comically when he noticed how your lower back pressed into his torso, glancing left then right and sighing nervously when he realised there was no space to squeeze into. He was trapped between you and the wall with no where to go.

“I-it was an accident…” Namjoon seemed sheepish, scratching at the back of his neck anxiously. Why was he so flustered all of a sudden? You’d never seen him like this, so unlike the cocky bastard you’d come to know as Kim Namjoon.

Unless…bingo! You had won. He was the problem and this was proof enough of his clumsy, idiotic ways!

“You should learn to be more careful-”

You were cut short when the train suddenly jerked wildly, sending you flying forwards. Great, you thought, Y/N 0, Balance 2. Your feet fumbled beneath your own weight, eyes screwed shut, bracing for impact against the cold, metal floor of the train.

Before gravity could take hold of you, a large hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you upright. The gesture allowed you to find your balance again, a sigh of relief tumbling from your chest as you gained your bearings.

“Woah there,” Namjoon’s lips were against your ear now, breath hot against your cheek. “What were you saying about being careful?”

“O-oh…” You willed yourself to open your eyes, to ignore the chills that crept up your spine when his nose brushed your hair just barely. You tried to pry yourself out of his hold. “It was an accident, I-”

“Look who came crawling right back. Knew it wouldn’t take long.” There was the cocky bastard again. The underlying implications of his words made you shiver, as if he wanted you to come back. Wanted to punish you for being wrong.

His body was warm - no it was hot, his palm burning the exposed skin of your waist where your blouse had ridden up in the scuffle. You could feel his heart pulse against your back and it took all your self control to stop your body from melting into his sturdy form, from delighting in his embrace. If he were to just move his hands down, down, down…

No! You were not about to imagine the guy you hated with a passion grabbing your ass on the goddamn train.

The train heaved again, Namjoon’s grip tightening even further and you silently thanked him for it as you felt your entire body turn to putty in his grasp. Your hand had found its way to his thigh, squeezing embarrassingly hard and sending your head spinning when you felt the firm muscles that tensed beneath your touch.

If you didn’t know any better you would say you were having the same effect on Namjoon. His lips had fallen dangerously close to your neck, almost as if he was debating pressing them to the flushed skin.

Don’t be ridiculous, you chastised yourself, you just need to get laid, clearly. He’s enjoying this because you’re letting him win.

No matter how much your pride meant to you, his effect was becoming too much.

Enough was enough. You needed to get out of his arms, out of this train and most of all you needed to get him out of your head. You wriggled a little, desperate to free yourself before you literally jumped his bones. Of course you had thought about this before, thought about how it would feel to be pressed up against Namjoon. Except usually there were less clothes separating you and you were at least on a bed…

STOP! YOU HATE HIM, YOU HATE HIM, YOU-

No matter how hard you squirmed, Namjoon’s arms only tightened, holding you to him as the train rattled down the tracks. Your ass was trapped against his thigh and you tried to ignore the pulse in your heat that had begun to alert you of just how good it would feel between your legs.

Just then you felt Namjoon stiffen as your ass glided over his crotch - and if you weren’t so focused on the way his breath ghosted across your neck when you did, you may have missed the way it hitched slightly, almost as if he was swallowing a groan.

“Y/N,” he whispered harshly, as if to issue a warning. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?” You spoke a little to loudly, nearly averting the attention of fellow passengers when you tried to claw at the vice like grip that squeezed your middle tightly. “Let me go!”

“Hush.”

“No!” You moved your ass again and this time he let out a noise; a groan of either pain or annoyance, you couldn’t tell.

“Seriously! Hush.”

Suddenly, his fingers gripped your hips so roughly you were sure they would bruise. You enjoyed it a little too much, the action making you light headed. It felt far too intimate to be friendly, only confirmed when you felt it. Something firm against the small of your back.

Was he…hard?

“What the fuck Namjoon?” You whispered hurriedly, glancing around to see if anyone else was aware of the erection that was now all you could focus on, blatantly obvious as it pulsed against the top of your ass.

The train came to a sudden halt, doors swinging open to allow a hoard of people to scramble off. Cool air hit your hot face. Maybe you’d be able to breathe again if you weren’t left breathless by the way Namjoon’s heart beat rapidly against your shoulder blades, all too aware of the raging arousal that felt so hard you imagined it would be painful.

Before you could push away and scream at him about how inappropriate this situation was - even though, to your dismay, your thoughts were clouded with visions far from appropriate - Namjoon was spinning your body around, pinning you against the wall with an audible thud, slotting his body between your trembling legs.

Suddenly, all thoughts of proving him wrong once and for all were forgotten.

You hissed. “Seriously what the fuck Namjoon-”

“What you should be saying,” He muttered, pausing to let his tongue snake out to wet his parted lips. “Is thank you Namjoon.”

“What for?” You gasped, trying and failing once again to wriggle out of his grasp.

His eyes were darker than you’d ever seen them, glazed over with what you recognised as want. “Thank you for saving my ass when I nearly fell in front of the entire subway.” You swallowed thickly, desperately trying to close your legs to relieve the hot, wet ache that was beginning to throb between them but to no avail, Namjoon keeping them open with a large palm around your inner thigh. “And thank you for not fucking said ass right here against the train door.”

Your head fell back with a slight gasp, choking on a moan that was utterly inappropriate for such a public setting. The train began to move again and you glanced up and down the carriage warily, surprised to see only two young men remained; one engrossed in a comic, the other resting his eyes and thankfully both too occupied to notice the way Namjoon stared at you with a look of arousal so intimidating you had to break away from his stare.

“N-Namjoon we s-shouldn’t…”

“Shouldn’t what baby?” Maybe it was the sudden use of a pet name or the gentle but firm way his thumb stroked your thigh, so close to the lace of your panties you were sure the slight touch alone nearly made you lose it. “Shouldn’t make you wet on the train?”

“Y-yeah…”

“Well I guess you should have thought of that before you got me hard, huh?” You let out a shaky breath, blouse falling down your shoulder slightly but before you could adjust it, Namjoon took the opportunity to place an open mouthed kiss to your collarbone and then to the side of your neck and then to the lobe of your ear. The way his teeth grazed your skin made you shiver, skin burning hot with want against the icy cold metal of the train. “Should’ve thought of that before you got me all worked up at the office today.”

“T-today?”

“Yeah, today.” He shook his head disapprovingly, tilting your chin with his forefinger as his eyes traveled down to your lips. “And every single other fucking day.”

Is that the reason why he was always so pissed?

“When you walk in in that goddamn white blouse and call me out. In front of everyone?” Perhaps you weren’t so subtle after all… “I swear you do it on purpose. I swear you want to make me mad.”

“N-no, I…” Your voice trailed off.

“Is that why you make such a fuss baby?” He continued to interrogate. “This is why you’re a problem,” He hissed under his breath, pressing your palm around his twitching bulge. “Because you are always giving me problems.”

Your eyes widened, arousal guiding your body to palm him through his trousers against the will of resistance from your head.

“Do you know how many times I’ve wanted to fuck you in front of the entire office? How many times I’ve wanted to put you in your fucking place? God you get me so angry sometimes,” He ran an exasperated hand through his hair. Your breathing was ragged now, almost as broken as his. “How many times I’ve jerked off in the bathroom thinking about how hot you look when you’re mad?”

You’d be lying if Namjoon wasn’t the focus of your own fantasies after a couple of glasses of wine and a “pamper night”.

His lips curved up into a smirk as the words made sense in your head, stifling a dark chuckle when your eyes widened in realisation. "So that’s why you’re always riling me up?” You managed to breathe.

“I literally almost blew my load when you stormed out today.” He closed his eyes, swallowing hard. His lips were inches from yours and it was taking everything in you to resist leaning in and connecting them, focusing on the throb in your heat instead as a distraction. “You seriously don’t know anything, do you?”

The train came to a sudden stop, doors ripping open almost as fast as Namjoon jumped away from your body. His absence left a cold void where he had hovered over you and you shakily stood upright, glancing at the floor to avoid any funny looks from the passengers leaving the train. You watched as four pairs of shoes scuffled off, heart beating a little faster now you were completely alone.

A few moments passed in silence and you didn’t dare look at Namjoon. You were still trying to wrap your head around his admission. Namjoon’s asshole behaviour was a ploy to make you mad? On purpose? Because he wanted you?

The doors slammed shut, train moving again with a clunk and before you could register what was happening, Namjoon was on you again, dragging you towards the row of seats that were now completely empty. You had the entire carriage to yourselves and Namjoon was clearly intent on taking advantage of the fact.

You were straddling him in seconds, his hands sliding down to cup your ass as he held your heat directly above his throbbing bulge. You gasped at the contact, feeling the way your panties clung to your sticky heat while you desperately tried to grind down onto his lap, eager for any form of relief.

Namjoon tutted at this, prompting you to raise your gaze from between your legs to take in the lazy smile that rested upon his face. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this? To see you all needy above me?”

He was right, you were so needy it felt like you might combust if you didn’t get some friction on your throbbing clit right now, uncaring that you were in public. His throat sounded hoarse, evidence of his own struggle to resist you (if the tent in his pants wasn’t already evidence enough) and the broken sound of his voice alone was enough to have you clenching around nothing.

It was rare that someone managed to get you this riled up this quickly. It was as if the tension that had been building between you finally reached its breaking point and the only logical response was to fuck it out. Hard. Still, if someone had told you an hour ago that you would be close to begging Namjoon of all people to touch you, you would have called them crazy.

Your forehead came down to rest against his shoulder in defeat. His grip was too strong, stopping you from getting what you wanted, and you let out a cry of frustration. “Please…”

“Please what, baby? Use your words.”

“Please…” Your voice was muffled by his black shirt which you tugged at eagerly. “Please fuck me.”

For the first time, Namjoon’s resolve broke and he let out a guttural moan at your words. He didn’t have time to respond before the train jerked again, sending you flying into his chest and to your delight, straight onto his crotch. “Ugh, fuck.” The whine that left your lips made Namjoon’s cock throb painfully against the front of his trousers, his own moan muffled by your hair.

Before you could twist your hips and gain any friction, Namjoon was hoisting you up again, higher this time so he could see the fucked out look on your face. He brushed a few stray hairs behind your ears, watching smugly as you ground against the air with another high pitched whine.

“Look at you. So fucked out and I’ve hardly even touched you.” His hands crept to the hem of your skirt, tugging the garment up so that it sat around your waist, exposing the curve of your ass and the black lacey underwear which nearly made him buck up into your heat. “Want my cock so bad baby?” His hand came down against your ass with an audible slap you were sure would leave a print and you had to bite your hand hard to stop from crying out too loudly. “Mmm, fuck, I wanted to make you wait,” he hummed. “Like I waited to be inside you but…if you want it how about you show daddy how much?”

He nodded for you to get on your knees. You mewled with delight, nearly drooling at the thought of his hot cock sliding in and out of your mouth. The thought of finally pleasuring him.

Your fingers eagerly began to fiddle with the fly of his trousers before one of his big palms stopped your ministrations all together. You looked up at him, confused and frustrated. “Not yet baby. Gotta open wide for daddy first.”

He pressed two fingers to your swollen lips and you sucked them into your hot mouth eagerly, wrapping your tongue around the digits and coating them in a layer of saliva like they were the sweetest popsicle you’d ever tasted. His fingers were salty with sweat but you didn’t care, taking them as far as you could while batting your eyelids at him in a silent beg for something else in your throat.

Namjoon melted into the headrest, completely fucked out as he watched you take his fingers through lidded eyes. He could hardly bare the way his digits disappeared in and out of your mouth, already aching to feel the sensation on his needy cock.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he choked, leaving a loud slap to your ass that flushed at the contact. “I nearly came in my pants.”

You pulled his hand away at the wrist leaving a trail of saliva down your chin. “You could come down my throat if you let me open your p-pants.”

Namjoon squeezed his eyes shut, pulling both your wrists behind your back roughly as the other pushed you down onto your knees until you were eye level with the bulge in his pants. “Don’t say shit you don’t mean,” he nearly stammered. “You’ll regret it.”

“I mean it.” You made quick work of his zipper, palming his hardness through the fabric of his boxers. “Please l-let me suck your cock.” You almost cringed at the words that came out of your mouth, washed in pure disbelief that you were actually on your knees in front of THE Kim Namjoon.

“Then suck.” Disbelief didn’t last for long since his command emptied your mind, losing the ability to think about anything else other than wrapping your lips around him immediately.

Namjoon placed both hands behind his head, resting against the train which vibrated beneath your knees, sending shocks of pleasure through your core when it made light contact.

Without further ado you reached into the open fabric of his pants, hand finally wrapping around something rock hard and blazing hot against your clammy palm, eliciting a hiss from Namjoon at he skin on skin contact. “Finally.” He groaned.

You were unaware of the whimper which left your own lips when Namjoon’s cock finally came into view, heavy against his stomach and raging with desperation to be touched. He was decently long but it was the thickness that made your eyes pop, mouth opening in anticipation and crotch grinding against the ground as you imagined how good it would feel when it finally stretched you out.

Without warning you were running your tongue along the underside of his shaft, enjoying the shaky breath Namjoon let slip when your hand fondled his balls firmly. You gave a few kitten licks to his swollen head, relishing the salty taste of precum that spread across your taste buds.

Your lips wrapped around the tip, sucking gently before sinking further down his length, letting the spit that had begun to fill your mouth cover his cock nicely so he slipped between your lips messily. Namjoon nearly went crazy when you hollowed your cheeks, hands tangling in your hair and making you groan out, desperate for him to take control. To use you.

“Mmmf, fuck yes,” he stammered, barely controlling his hips from bucking into your throat. “Just like that, there’s a good girl.” He pushed your head firmly down his shaft before tugging you off again, the head of his dick barely brushing against your reddened lips. You moaned in approval as he fucked your face, dizzy with the feeling of the ridges of his length on your tongue and his hands in your hair.

Just as you were taking him back into your mouth, the train rocked violently and you found yourself taking more of his cock than you anticipated, the head hitting your throat and making you gag obscenely around his length. Namjoon flew forward, unable to hold back the deep moan that rumbled from his chest when he felt your nose against his public bone. “Fuck baby girl, do that again.”

You obliged, taking him all the way until you gagged.

“So hot, fuck.”

You didn’t know if he was referring to your mouth or the way you dribbled down your own chin, tears pricking your eyes and leaking onto your flushed cheeks as you tried to breathe through your nose when he held you for a few seconds too long at the base of his dick. You pulled off with a pop, gasping for air.

“Sorry,” he panted apologetically. “Got a bit carried away.”

“It’s okay.” You gasped between breaths, wiping your chin with the back of one hand and pumping his slick length with the other, palm sliding lewdly against the sensitive head where your mouth had been. And you meant it - it was okay. You wanted this. Maybe you had just been denying it all along.

“Shit!” Before you could wrap your lips around him again, Namjoon was slapping your hand away, shoving himself back into his pants and pulling you up by your elbow.

“What?” You asked, surprised at his rejection of your mouth. “What is it?”

“Train’s stopping,” He hissed back. “People getting on.”

Sure enough, the doors swung open, allowing a hoard of people to board the train. You pulled your skirt around your ass hurriedly, hoping the disheveled state of your hair and swollen lips wouldn’t give away your arousal to the prying eyes of other passengers.

You kept your eyes on your shoes, waiting for the crowd to seat themselves around yourself and Namjoon before you dared meet his eyes again. He smirked, tugging his tie to hang loose around his neck and the action alone had you rubbing your legs together for relief, glancing around nervously to see if anybody caught your blatant show of arousal.

The train started up again and you reached for the bar above you hurriedly, not wanting to draw any more attention to yourself by losing your footing for a fourth time that day.

Fortunately, Namjoon came to your rescue again, pulling you into his lap with a plop. Your heat grazed his thigh, sopping folds only separated by the thin layer of your sticky panties and you were sure you would draw blood which how hard you bit back the loud moan that almost left your lips.

“Can’t stay on your feet today, huh?” He clicked his tongue, breath hot against your ear as he wrapped his arms around your waist. Your chest swelled when he rested his chin on your shoulder. The embrace felt nice.

“Guess I prefer being on my knees when you’re around.” Namjoon’s breath hitched, jaw tightening against your neck.

“Is that so?” Before you could respond he was slotting his leg between your thighs, tensing the muscles to create some friction against your pulsing clit. The action offered welcome relief, your folds begging to be touched in any way after what felt like hours of denial. “Move.”

You didn’t need to be told twice, grinding slowly onto the thighs you had dreamed about ever since Namjoon walked into the office months ago.

You moved your hips in slow circles, the coarse fabric of Namjoon’s trousers rubbing your heat in just the right way that had you breathing deeply as you tried to stop yourself from losing control and sitting on his cock then and there in front of everyone.

The fact that you were surrounded by people was exhilarating, the idea that someone could look over any second and see you creating a wet patch on Namjoon’s lap making you dizzy with lust.

Namjoon’s fingers grazed your arms gently, working you through the pleasure as he tensed his thigh again and again, pressure on your clit causing broken moans to catch in your throat. At this point you were completely gone, everything around you unimportant as you focused on chasing the feeling building in your lower stomach.

Suddenly, Namjoon grabbed your hips, stilling your ministrations despite the hushed whine of protest you directed at him as discreetly as you could. “Please.” You whispered, tears threatening to prick your eyes as you felt the feeling of your high getting further and further away with every second your core throbbed still against his legs. You were so desperate you would have done anything to reach it, tired and frustrated of being denied any pleasure.

“Hush baby girl,” Namjoon’s thumbs gently caressed your waist. “Take this off, such a good girl for me hmm?” He began tugging at the blazer that covered your shoulders, dragging it down your arms and throwing it over your lap instead.

Embarrassment flushed your cheeks when you looked down at the the coffee stain on your blouse, visible to everyone and anyone now Namjoon removed the thing covering it. “N-namjoon my blouse-”

“Shhh,” he hushed, tucking your hair behind your ear so you could hear his gravelly whispers clearly. “Let me make you feel good.”

“W-what…oh!” Your eyes bulged with surprise when you felt Namjoon’s fingers slip beneath the blazer that hid his wandering hands from prying eyes, toying with the top of your panties teasingly. “Namjoon! W-we can’t-”

His index finger slipped beneath the fabric, finding your clit immediately and rubbing hard, fast circles into the swollen nub. “So wet baby, so good.”

Arousal dripped from his voice and you let your head fall back onto his shoulder, eyes squeezed shut as his fingers worked you up into a squirming mess on top of him. If anyone sees they’ll just think you’re resting your eyes, you managed to convince yourself, all rational thoughts lost to the feeling of Namjoon sliding up and down your folds.

You let out a breathy oh when you felt his finger circle your entrance. “Joon,” you warned. If he filled you with even one finger you were sure you would cum on the spot in front of the whole train.

He smiled against your neck, at your neediness or the nickname you couldn’t tell before he was pushing two fingers into your heat to the knuckle. You were wet enough for them to slide straight in, cold metal of the pretty rings he always donned rubbing your walls deliciously and making you grind down onto his hand. His thumb found your clit and you dug your nails into his thighs, panting obviously now as you tried to hold on to what was left of your sanity.

“I-I can’t,” you gasped, noticing the sideways glances you were getting from the couple sat opposite you. They must have known what was going on. They must have known Namjoon was knuckle deep into your wetness as you clenched around him desperate for release, coil tightening more and more in your belly.

You were so wet that every thrust of his hand made a lewd squelch, an instant give away of Namjoon’s affect on you and you prayed the loud screech of the train’s wheels against the track was enough to hide it from the other passengers.

Namjoon was going faster now, leaving small kisses against the nape of your neck as he tried to hold it together. Until, finally, he couldn’t anymore. “I can’t n-need more.” You felt something in him snap at your keening, his hand leaving you clenching around nothing all of a sudden as he tugged your skirt back around your thighs.

“Wha-” You didn’t have time to finish before Namjoon was jerking you to your feet, shoving the forgotten manuscript from earlier into your hands as he pushed you towards the train bathroom. He kept his crotch pressed tightly against your ass, probably to hide his raging arousal from the people around you although his less than subtle way of maneuvering you both into the same bathroom stall gave it away instantly.

The door slammed behind you a little too loudly, making you wince. “Fuck Namjoon, now everyone knows.” You whined, allowing him to push you until the backs of your legs gave in, your ass falling aginst the sink. The bathroom was cramped, barely enough room for the two of you, so Namjoon went about making the best of the space by hovering over you with the same feverish want he had earlier except this time he couldn’t control the way his hands trembled as he eagerly ripped your coffee stained blouse open.

He let out a gasp when he finally got his hands under neath your bralette, thumbs sliding across your agonisingly hard buds in circles until you were squirming to feel his hands everywhere, anywhere. “God, you’re fucking beautiful.” You couldn’t help the heat that rushed to your face, something funny flipping in your stomach that was more than just arousal. Before you could worry if his heavy palms felt the way your heart beat a little faster at his words, his lips were skimming tantalisingly across the top of your breasts, finally unhooking your bra. Your head fell back in a choked gasp when his teeth grazed your nipples momentarily before he was swirling his tongue across them, soothing the sting that felt deliciously cold despite the hot and musky bathroom air.

You felt his lips begin the journey down, not quite reaching your belly button with his surprisingly gentle ministrations before your hands were tangling in the collar of his shirt and pulling him up to meet your eyes again. Your nipples rubbed against the coarse fabric and you fiddled with the buttons, desperate to feel his sweaty skin against yours. Your hot breath mingled. “Namjoon,” You managed to pant. “Let me see you too.”

His touch still lingered on your chest when he brushed your roaming hands away to replace them with his own, buttons quickly flying open allowing more skin to come into view beneath the dim lights. You couldn’t help but let your hands snake across his toned chest, sighing in delight when he lets you shake the shirt from where it still sat around his shoulders. You were pleasantly surprised to find his tummy soft, a perfect contrast to his muscular upper body.

He raised your gaze with a finger beneath your chin, pausing for a moment to run a questioning glance from your lips to your eyes and back to your lips. “Can I?”

You almost choked on your own spit, practically salivating to feel his lips against your own. “Kiss me?” You murmured. “Please.”

Namjoon took no time to oblige, finally crashing your lips together in a tangle of teeth and tongue. A wave of relief emptied your mind of anything other than the feeling of Namjoon’s body finally melting against your own and you realise you’ve been waiting for this - no needed this - for longer than you originally thought. Namjoon smiled into the kiss and you felt your heart swell a little, his nose brushing your own gently in contrast to the way his hands greedily grabbed your ass. His lips were slightly chapped as they roughly caressed your own and you sighed contentedly into the kiss, tangling one hand in his hair, the other slipping down to the buckle of his belt.

His tongue finally gained permission, slipping into your mouth as you made work with the button of his trousers. You could barely focus, Namjoon’s lips all you could feel. Trousers now at his ankles, you fumbled to slip your hand beneath the waistband of his grey boxer briefs, eyes widening at the groan which rumbled from Namjoon’s chest into your mouth when your small hand finally wrapped around his pulsing length skin-on-skin.

You almost whimper at how hot and heavy he is in your palm, even harder than before if that was possible, the wetness smeared around his head evidence of just how worked up he was. His mouth stilled against yours, eyes squeezed shut as he tried to resist bucking into your hand. The knowledge that it was you that made him this hard, you that had him breathless against your lips sent another rush to your own heat.

Then he’s kissing you again, softly this time as his hand comes to rest on top of your own. “Wait, wait.” He murmurs between crashes of your lips. “I want to feel you before I come.”

You reluctantly retract your hand, agreeing that you wanted- needed - to feel him and quickly because quite honestly you were close already. Just his lips were enough, just wondering how they would feel around your clit and how good his tongue would be as it licked a stripe up your pulsing folds was almost enough to throw you into sensory overload.

“Can I take these off?” His thumbs hooked beneath the band of your panties. He looked at you with a genuine concern and you thought it was sweet. Namjoon was in control but he asked with a sincerity that said your comfort was important to him and it made something feel right about this, something safe. You gave his nose a kiss in affirmation, nodding gently. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Namjoon placed small, affectionate pecks to the corners of your mouth as he rolled the garment down your legs, letting you kick them all the way off as he rubbed gentle circles into your thighs. His eyes were still black with lust but they seemed gentle as he sucked in a breath, taking you in fully for the first time. It was almost easy to forget that this was the same guy who made you suck his cock on a public train fifteen minutes ago.

He connected your lips again in a soft, slow kiss, hand cupping your face as his thumb ran across your bottom lip. “You know, I envisioned it to be more romantic than…this.” He gestured to the dingy bathroom you’d almost forgotten existed, too busy getting lost in Namjoon. “Sorry…” He bit his lip, eyes averting your own bashfully.

Your heart swelled with more than just arousal.

“Namjoon?” He looked up at you again through his lashes. “There will be plenty of time for that. For romance.” A small smile crept onto your face.

“Yeah?” Namjoon’s grin gave away his elation at your statement.

“Yeah,” Your voice was but a breath. “For now though I just need you inside me.”

Namjoon’s arms scooped you up, slamming you against the wall for the second time that day and knocking away your breath as he wrapped your leg around his waist. “That I can do.” He hummed against your neck mischievously.

By now your heat was dripping, wetness making its way down your inner thighs as you braced yourself for the fullness of Namjoon’s cock. He felt girthy in your hand and your hole clenched at the thought of it stretching you open.

The small room was stuffy, barely enough shared air to breathe but that made it all the more intimate. Hands woven into his hair, you felt the way his chest rose and fell against your own as he took his length into his hand, guiding the blunt head to your entrance. He seemed pained as he squeezed the base of his cock, hesitating. “Are you…?”

“We’re good. On the pill.” You got out between laboured breaths of anticipation. “Wait!” You pushed his chest, his face coming into view, laced with worry as he searched your face for any sign of indecision. “What about Yuna?”

His eyes practically bulged before he let out a small chuckle at your concern. “Yuna?”

“Yeah…won’t she be mad?”

“Why would she be?”

“Aren’t you two like…you know?”

Namjoon spluttered. “No! Don’t you think her girlfriendwould be kinda mad if we were?”

Oh. Oh.

“I-”

“Y/N, she was just a way to you know…make you jealous. Truthfully, I was pissed, you wouldn’t even look my way and -”

You cut him off with a peck to his lips. “Okay. It’s okay.”

“It is?”

“Yeah. Now for god’s sake, just fuck me please.”

“With pleasure.”

The head of his cock was back again and you circled your hips, desperate to feel more of it inside of you. Namjoon pressed in slowly, his head falling into the crook of your neck as he finally bottomed out, low moans escaping his lips at the feeling of your tight, velvety walls finally rubbing deliciously against his shaft.

The head of his cock instantly brushed against your sweet spot, sending shivers of pleasure through your heat as you scratched his back wildly. “Please…please ugh! Move!”

Namjoon wasted no time, dragging out nearly all the way before slamming back in to the hilt with a lewd slap. Your folds were so wet each thrust made an embarrassingly loud squelch you were sure could be heard from outside but the way his cock was thick enough to stretch you out just the way you liked it and long enough to hit deeper than his fingers had earlier rendered you uncaring and speechless.

The pleasure was almost unbearable and you could feel your muscles clenching around him, drawing out a strangled moan against your neck. The action was enough to make him lose all control as he lifted your leg, pressing you into the wall with all his weight and slamming into you at a new angle that gave him access to your clit every time he bottomed out, making you scream with pleasure into the palm of his hand.

“Shit, Y/N,” He hissed, watching through lidded eyes as you lost it beneath him. “You’re going to make me cum if you keep making noises like that. Fuck!” Namjoon was getting sloppy now, barely able to keep his pace as he desperately tried to cling on to the edge while each of your whines made his cock feel like it may explode any second.

“Mmm, cum for me,” you moan, completely lost to the feeling of his hot cock sliding lewdly in and out of you. “Wanna feel you fill me up.”

“Holy fuck,” he stuttered, nearly falling out of you as the pleasure overwhelmed him. “You have no idea how long I’ve dreamed of this, being inside you, god.”

So he gets loose lipped when he’s close, huh? Cute.

“Want you to cum with me, fuck.”

His dirty admissions were enough to send you flying over the edge with a cry, his fingers coming between your legs to rub agonising circles into your clit as you rode out your high. Your vision went black, legs trembling and if it weren’t for Namjoon’s strong grip on your thighs you were sure you would nothing but a puddle by now.

“Fuck you got so tight, that’s it. Come for me baby.” A few sloppy strokes later and he was coating your walls with a low groan, connecting your lips in a breathless kiss as you whimper at the feeling of being filled and the overstimulation.

Namjoon presses his sweat slicked forehead against your own as you let your breath mingle, coming down from your highs. As your vision slowly returned, the train jerked, nearly sending you both flying if Namjoon wasn’t there to save you once again.

“Woah there.” He said quietly with a smile. He connected your lips for the nth time and you decided that although it was new you actually - no definitely - liked it. “Be careful.”

You were about to say something playful back before a transport announcement crackled over head.

TRAIN TERMINATING AT NEXT STOP.

You broke away from the kiss with a groan. “Shit shit shit! I’ve missed my stop!”

Breaking away from his grasp you hurriedly try to button up your coffee stained blouse, glancing around to locate your underwear which was out of sight.

“Looking for these?” A piece of fabric hit your chest. Your panties.

His calm demeanour was enough to replace the post orgasmic glow with a familiar feeling of rage towards him.

“Yes I was looking for those - and this is all your fault! If you didn’t take them off in the first place I wouldn’t be in this mess and this stupid fucking blouse would be clean and-”

Namjoon cut you off by pulling you against his chest, peppering your face in playful kisses as you tried to squirm out of his grasp. You gave up eventually, enjoying the warmth of his bare chest and nearly giggling with surprise when he placed a peck to both your cheeks.

“You…are…so…fucking…cute…when…you’re…mad.” Each word was punctuated with a kiss and you hit him away playfully.

His sudden change in behaviour took you by surprise. You had never seen this side of him before. A side that wasn’t a complete and utter dick (or in more recent discoveries, a possessive, rough love maker).

“I recall you saying I was hot when I was mad.”

“Yeah, but you’re also really fucking cute.” You wrapped your arms around his waist, looking up at him with a pout. “See cute.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, earning a chuckle as he began to buckle his own trousers. “You know, the next stop is mine so you could always just come back to my place?”

“Huh?”

A blush crept onto his face as he rushed to explain himself. “No, not like that…unless you wanted to- no! What I meant was, you could come to my place and I could wash your blouse for you.”

You finished tidying up your skirt, watching with amusement as he scratched the back of his neck nervously. “I don’t have enough spare cash for a taxi.”

“I’ll drive you home!” He said quickly. “You know, if you want me to…”

“Okay.” You said with a small smile. “Besides, I think I kind of owe you.” You nod towards the pityful remains of Namjoon’s manuscript which lay sodden in the sink, discarded at some point during your excitement earlier.

“Then this makes us even.”

“Deal.”

“Now, let’s hope the train is empty and if it’s not, get ready to run!”

#bts smut #namjoon smut #bts fanfic #kwordsmiths #btsguild #thebtstown #bts #namjoon fanfiction #bts fanfiction #bts imagine #namjoon imagine #bts scenario #namjoon scenario #!!!!! this was longer than i expected but whew what a ride to write #also!! i have ideas for a sequel POTENTIALLY so lemme know if u liked it heh #my writing #fic: all aboard

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