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youreyeslookliketheocean · 3 years ago

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youreyeslookliketheocean’s DSMP Fic Recs!!

Figured it was about time for one of these... :)

Mostly SBI-centric because they’re my favorite dynamic. I’ll probably add to this list as time goes on, and I also want to go back through my ao3 history and find some lesser-known fics I really enjoyed to rec them all. But for now...

* oneshot ** unfinished work

** the lights go out (my heart goes still) by curseworm

With his old home unwelcoming and his new one gone, Tommy is alone. After hours of staggering through the freezing snow, he finds a cabin.

Technoblade’s cabin.

He hides himself away in the deepest corner he can find, taking only what he needs to survive, wasting away in the cold and the dark. He’s petrified at the thought of being found out, terrified of what he thinks Techno would do to him.

When Techno finds his injured teenage brother huddled in a filthy little cave beneath his basement, the rage he feels is immeasurable. The voices demand blood, and blood he will give them. Dream won’t be getting away with this one.

(On the other side of the world, in a country that floats on a man-made lake, Philza gets himself in a bit of a pickle.)

** The hearth down under by Crystalquill

A tiny change gives Tommy the courage to flee to the Nether instead of the cold tundra, finding an unlikely ally in the midst of a fiery hellscape.

But tiny changes can alter the course of history. The SMP will never be the same.

(Lots of cool Nether worldbuilding in this one!!)

to be a wanderer, wandering by hydrangeasheart

Tommy's feet drag in the snow.

It's so, so cold. He's so cold. His toes are freezing. His exposed shins feel like they’ve been cut open-- even the one that’s bandaged. His wings have gone numb, which is almost, almost good, because now he can’t feel the shifting, broken bones inside of the left one, just under feathers and muscle.

He doesn’t know why he’s still walking.

Or, Tommy leaves the exploded ruins of Logstedshire behind, and walks until he finds somewhere safe.

And things keep going from there.

(A canon-divergent AU, splitting off somewhere around when Tommy started hiding out below Techno's house.)

that’s, like, a hundred miles by No_one_you_know (and then “as long as i’m here”, and “he’s my brother, i just raise him”)

Dream would kill him. Dream was going to kill him- he was going to- no, he wouldn’t. Dream was his friend- friends don’t hit each other- Dream was supposed to take care of him- Dream /was/ taking care of him.

It hurt to breathe. It hurt to think. He couldn’t clear his thoughts as he stumbled to the family computer, pulling up a tab on google and frantically typing the name into the search bar.

The words Technoblade Watson stared back at him, the little black bar at the end of the letters blinking slowly, mocking him.

Why, of all people, did it have to be Technoblade?

in short: the one where dream sucks as a parental figure, tommy runs away, and visits his least favorite family member technoblade.

passerine by thcscus(blujamas)

Do I really need to put the summary here? Pretty much everyone knows this fic. Also, though, if you enjoy this one you should totally read thcscus’ connected fic, “shrike”!! It’s only at 2 chapters right now but it’s already really good and has this dark, foresty aesthetic I love...

not with a bang but with a whimper by dip_dyed_ghost

He knows Tubbo doesn’t care about him anymore. He knows that. He’s been shown that. But it doesn’t stop Tommy from caring about him. He brushes the pads of his fingers over the compass’s glass and wonders how he’s doing, if he’s tired of it all yet, if he needs help. He watches the way it points strongly in the direction over the ocean. He hopes he’s alright.

Even after everything, he hopes he’s alright.

During his exile, Tommy finds a drugged and hurt Tubbo on his doorstep. He can’t not help him.

(This one has a neat take on potions, in my opinion. Also it’s only 4 chapters so it’s a quick read!)

take this compass, follow it home by lightning_anon

Tommy's a fuck up, he can't pay attention, and never sits still. He taps his hands, pushes people away, and has never had a best friend. He's a screwed up, forgotten kid lost in the foster system. He's also just been placed with a new family. Tommy knows how this goes, he never ends up staying long. After all, no one wants a fuck up like him.

Why would this house be any different?

Or: the obligatory sleepy bois foster fic, but with a focus on the neurodivergent kids that inevitably get lost in the system.

(Genuinely want to see more books like this in original fiction. It’s part of what inspired my newest og wip, “To Build a Home.” So sweet and I feel like I had my eyes opened to some neurodivergent tendencies I never knew existed. I read this in a day and can’t rec it enough.)

bloodlines by youreyeslookliketheocean

Tommy’s an orphan on the run from his previous guardian. Philza’s a king who prides himself on keeping his kingdom in an era of peace. Wilbur’s the crown prince, and Techno’s right beside him as his adopted brother. When Phil’s kingdom of Pogtopia is threatened by the bloodvines—a strange, brainwashing plant infecting many of the surrounding kingdoms—the four must work together to keep the kingdom, and their family, safe. --- A royal au sbi fic... + the bloodvines, for spice.

(Yes I’m self-promoting. But, in my defense, I’m very proud of it. If you checked it out it would mean the world to me :’))

Heat Waves by tbhyourelame

Dream has always held a gentle admiration for George, but when their nuanced friendship trickles into his sleeping mind, he awakens to a new world of conflicting emotions and longing. Lost in the midst of a heat wave, he continuously listens to a song that works itself in to the very core of his heartache. Floridian nights, unsent messages, spiraling infatuation, and terrible, terrible weather.

Another fic I think pretty much everyone knows about. Listen, listen... I was once an idiot who said “Oh no, I’ll never read Heat Waves. It’s irl, not characters, and it’s probably cringe”... No. I was so wrong. This fic is wonderfully written, with a pretty quick moving plot and great characterizations. You do need an ao3 account to access it, though. Just to let you know. (Also read “Helium”, unfinished and hasn’t updated in awhile, but it’s the continuation).

Guitar Strings and Keyrings are What it Takes to Build a Home by Anonymous

Techno was adopted by Phil when he was 12 years old.

He'd been enjoying his morning before Phil came to him asking if he would mind them taking in another kid. Against his better judgement, Techno agrees and ends up with two new foster brothers who he was determined to not get attached to, no matter what.

Tommyinnit’s unbeatable method of avoiding sudden death by eneliii

“I uh,” Tommy starts, not knowing how to break this to the hero lightly. He hates to be the bearer of bad news. “I think your powers are broken? It’s not a bad thing of course, but like, I swear you tried to mind control me and it like, totally failed. Which is fine, honestly, don’t feel insecure. Everyone’s power stop working sometimes… I think.”

Sheesh, this is very awkward. Why is no one else talking? Why is Philza looking at him like he grew three heads? Why is the Blade staring at him so intensely? Why is Willow still frozen?

“Did I, did I hit a nerve? Yikes,” Tommy hisses, “Well um,” He steps back, bracing his legs and bending his knees, “This was like super fun, but I’m - I’mma head out.”

or,

in which Tommy manages to annoy the hell out of Phil, Techno and Wilbur by being both impossible to catch and irritatingly endearing.

or or,

a crack fic where Tommy is a vigilante and Phil, Techno and Wilbur are the heroes hunting him down.

(Feel like I am obligated to say how incredibly funny this fic is. Seriously. I have a distinct memory of sitting on my neighborhood park’s swing, giggling hysterically, while reading this. Well...until the end... but we won’t get into that...)

** bones in the ocean by bunflower

“Your reputation precedes you, y’know.”

“Does it, now?” Philza watches him coyly from where he’s now leaning against the wall, arms folded around his chains and gaze half-lidded, his lips curled in an arrogant, cat-like smirk.

“The Angel of Death, the ferryman of the Styx, the terror of the western seas. One of the most feared captains ever to sail, and yet, I have to wonder… how did a man like you end up all on his own? We searched the area where you were found—not another soul in sight. So,” He fixes him with a long look, allowing the silence to hover like a dark cloud, the words rolling off of his tongue with all the venom and smugness he can muster, “—tell me, Philza. Where is your crew?”

OR: Technoblade is a naval captain, and Phil his unwilling prisoner. Somehow, they manage to come out of it as friends in the end.

(Is this fic considered popular like passerine/Heat Waves now? Cause I feel like it’s reputation precedes itself, at this point... Pirate au.)

****

Okay! That’s it for now. Like I said, though, I want to add to this over time and also dig back for some older things I’ve read. Also, if you have any recs feel free to send them in! I’m about to go back to school and therefore might not have time for reading fun stuff, but whenever I get the chance I’d love to check them out!!!

Happy Reading!!

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rivalsforlife · 3 years ago

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Phoenix Wright: The Truth Reborn: Oh No We’re Doing This Again

hi.

Nearly two months ago, I wrote an essay summarizing and making very wild conclusions about the second Takarazuka Musical. I did this about two and a half years after watching the first Takarazuka musical. As such I did not have the full context for many things from the musical and was relying mostly on my memory, which blocked many things from this musical for my own safety. However, just this week, I decided to rewatch it, because I enjoy tormenting myself. I said I wouldn’t write anything on it. Here I am writing something on it.

Here’s the youtube thumbnail so that you know what you’re getting yourself into. And here, of course, is the link. This is the HD version which may be slightly more pleasant to watch. Maybe.

It was not quite as cringe in a funny way as the second musical to me, and therefore this essay may be less funny, but I feel like I’m doing a disservice to people by providing a summary of the second musical while completely neglecting the first. Quite possibly doing this is even more of a disservice. I just eagerly await the day that the third musical is translated because *that* will be the day that I finally shuffle off this mortal coil. Either way, I want to write this stuff down so that I never have to watch the musical again out of curiosity.

The following essay will contain major spoilers for both the first and second Phoenix Wright Takarazuka musicals, as I will be using many points from this musical to argue my thesis of the second musical. ... like you were going to watch them anyways.

This one broke 8k. I’m dead inside.

Introducing The Director

Again another disclaimer that I don’t have anything against the actresses or the theatre troupe. I DO have something against Suzuki Kei, who I recently learned is the writer and director of all three of the Ace Attorney Takarazuka musicals, and is quite possibly my mortal nemesis.

This man is the one who brought this monstrosity into the world.

This man, allegedly, cleared the first four ace attorney games *seven times* before sitting down to write these musicals. He played these goddamn games seven times and did not take in a single word. The man clicked through them mindlessly while watching a badly written legal romance drama in the background and got them completely confused. I genuinely have no idea how this man could have played these games more times than even me and yet managed to get so many characters (MAYA!!!!) completely and utterly wrong. This haunts me every day, truly.

This man played Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney, Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney - Justice for All, Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney - Trials and Tribulations, and Apollo Justice: Ace Attorney seven times. SEVEN TIMES EACH!! and was told to create a musical based on the series. He played these games seven times each and you know what he said?? You know what he said?? “This sucks, I’m getting rid of all of Phoenix’s backstory, butchering half the characters, and writing Phoenix/Lana fanfiction, but also rewriting all of Lana’s backstory so that she was Phoenix’s childhood friend, and you know what, I’m changing her name for good measure.”

I think this man played the games seven times each and then hated it so much and was so sick of it he tried to write something that destroyed as much of the series as possible while still being vaguely recognizable. And then somehow it became a massive hit because people like me see this and go “what the actual hell” and watch it, or people who haven’t played the games see this and go “wow what a great musical!” and then he wrote TWO MORE, destroying EVEN MORE every time in his wake, until finally, finally, he stopped after making Edgeworth straight and time traveling into the past to face off against a corrupt Gregory. I guess that was the last straw.

I have to issue a disclaimer here that for legal reasons this is a joke. I don’t actually hate this man and would not punch him in the face if I met him because that would be rude, and he is entitled to his wrong interpretation of the games. I don’t know what his thought process was. But allegedly he did play the games seven times according to the wiki. This whole essay here is satire and not slander and I don’t want to offend this guy if he somehow stumbles across my nonsense tumblr post. At the same time: Suzuki Kei blink twice if you need help.

Anyways half the reason that I’m making this essay is because I want to share my fake ao3 page for this musical. The other half will become apparent later.

Sorry if that’s illegible because of tumblr quality it’s not really important. All you really need to know is that it’s a fake ao3 screenshot for the musical. Also in the author’s note I said he played the games four times but it was actually seven I just remembered wrong because I didn’t want to believe it.

at this point you may be like “Grace shut up and get to the actual musical” and okay, fine, let’s start this nonsense. Also note that I may be referencing things from my essay on the second musical very frequently; I’m not going to force you to go read that though because the fact that you’re reading this is enough of a torment already.

The Musical Begins

Unlike the second musical, this one opens with some narration from Phoenix.

Transcript:

Phoenix: I’m reviewing a particular case at the moment. To me, this case... is one I’ll never forget.

Immediately I think this is important because it establishes that this whole musical takes place in a flashback that Phoenix is reflecting on. Why is this important? Because we know, by the time of the second musical which takes place three years later, Leona is dead.

Knowing that Leona is inherently doomed to die of her Sad Woman Disease paints this whole musical in a different light. It’s not Phoenix reflecting on how he got back together with his lover; it’s Phoenix dwelling on their past together, and the opportunities they had, before her life was so cruelly and inexplicably taken away. We don’t know if Phoenix’s reminiscing takes place before or after Leona’s death... but I wouldn’t be surprised if it was after.

Phoenix, still in the present, starts to sing. “A wave appears on the horizon like a mirage, it trembles, then vanishes. Your voice, carried upon the waves, fades upon the shore, erasing the splendor of the past.”

This line actually shows up in the second musical, sung by Lucia about her imprisoned fiance quite possibly. It’s kind of hard to tell what the meaning of these songs even are. They’re too abstract for me I think. But this line appears very frequently in the first musical when Phoenix is thinking about Leona.

Then we enter the flashback time.

Phoenix inexplicably yells at a newspaper saleswoman. This is not relevant to anything whatsoever. Then Larry barges in to the office, looking for Maya. Phoenix describes him as “A real trouble maker, but you just can’t hate the guy”, the latter part of which I think many people would disagree with.

Well, afterwards, Maya comes in. Phoenix describes her like this while making exaggerated “can you believe this shit” gestures.

Transcript:

Phoenix: She’s as ditzy as they come. Oh, and about the outfit... Apparently she comes from a family of spirit mediums. Try not to make fun of her, okay?

Suzuki Kei personally has it out for Maya and I can never forgive him for it. Maya in these musicals is here for pure comedic relief but it’s not even comedic because I just get so angry. How can you play the trilogy seven times and think this about her?? The girl who figured out DL-6?? The girl who told Phoenix to sacrifice her life in order to find the truth?? The girl who put on a brave smile in order to try and cheer up her younger cousin even after she saw her own mother murdered right in front of her eyes?? That Maya Fey?? Ditzy as they come??????

Ugh. Moving on.

Maya and Larry run off, leaving Phoenix to watch the American Broadcast.

Important things to note here are the Godot mug, the little line up of what I think are the messed up little ace attorney figurines beneath the screen, and the fact that while this broadcast is supposedly from and to America the screen is actually not at all showing America. Like literally almost everywhere in the world except North and South America.

The broadcast says that Leona Clyde, age 24, was arrested for murdering the senator Robert Cole! Leona Clyde -- that’s Phoenix’s ex-girlfriend! He runs off to the detention center.

She is not happy to see him.

Leona: Mr. Wright... I’m not the woman you once knew.

Let’s Play A Matching Game

Sorry for the abundance of screenshots that are going to be throughout this section. Phoenix convinces Leona to let him defend her. Some of the conversation seems... familiar.

Leona: No one would defend someone who admits to killing a senator. I’m waiting for a court-appointed attorney.

Edgeworth: Every defense attorney I’ve talked to has turned me down.

Phoenix: In that case, let me defend you.

Game Phoenix: Let me defend you.

Leona: Don’t be ridiculous!

Edgeworth: Don’t be ridiculous.

Phoenix: I’ll never accept that you’re a murderer. Let me prove your innocence!

Game Phoenix: Huh? Isn’t it obvious? I’m going to prove that Miles Edgeworth is innocent.

Leona: I’ve already confessed my guilt.

Gumshoe: He confessed that he did it! In court!

Leona: It’s foolish to think you can win this case.

Edgeworth: My case is near hopeless, Wright.

Leona: (in response to phoenix offering to defend her) No you won’t! Don’t ever come here again.

Edgeworth: Look, just go away, and leave me alone!

Phoenix: You of all people should know. Once I decide to do something, I see it through to the end.

Edgeworth: Once you start on something, you always see it through, don’t you?

Leona: I never thought that you’d be representing me.

Phoenix: Ah, who could have guessed this day would come?

Edgeworth: Not me.

Phoenix: You believed in me. You saved me. And this time, I swear... I swear I’ll save you!

Game Phoenix: Edgeworth believed in me, and I believe in him. I’m the only one who knows the real Edgeworth. I’m the only one who can help him.

I could’ve done a few more, but tumblr is already threatening to murder my laptop.

So long story short, Phoenix manages to convince his lover to let him be the defense on the case. Then immediately after swearing to save Leona, he starts singing a song, which I’m not screencapping because this is enough:

“As long as there are people in this world, there’s only one path I will follow! As long as there is love in this world, there’s only one path I will believe in!”

Edgeworth sings this in the second musical after saying that he returned to California because of Phoenix. Phoenix sings it now after swearing to defend Leona. You draw your own conclusions.

And then we finally get the opening credits. Eleven minutes in.

Just Pretend This Is Narumitsu Fanfiction

Following the credits, we see a beautiful beach. Couples (exclusively heterosexual, of course,) dance and embrace in the background for some time, before revealing Phoenix and Leona, in the Even Further Past, before the LSATs or whatever the ace attorney universe’s excuse for law school exams are.

Phoenix establishes his absolute hatred of change, an important characterization moment.

Phoenix: The view here never changes, huh?

Phoenix reminisces on when they were kids. Leona’s parents were both lawyers (they’re both lawyers) and sometimes they would be like lawyers with her when she was a kid. This inspired her to also become a lawyer after their tragic death of Sickness. They never specify what the sickness is that caused two people who must be relatively young to die while Leona was in her early twenties at the latest. It may be whatever sickness claimed Leona’s life later. Sad Woman Disease. (Sad Man Disease for her father, I guess?)

Phoenix also talks about why he’s becoming a lawyer.

Phoenix: Watching you chase your dream inspired me to become a lawyer too.

So, it’s not “my childhood friend looked sad in a newspaper” because I guess that makes no sense or is too gay or something. But this is another important piece of Phoenix characterization. His entire life so far has been focused around Leona. They’ve been friends since they were kids, and then Phoenix decided to become a lawyer solely because Leona was becoming a lawyer. Not even to try and get back into contact with her after she moved away or anything; just because he’s so obsessed with her that he wants to have the same career as her, then they can run a Mom & Pop Law Firm or something, years in the future, after years of happy marriage and a few children or like whatever the hell.

Well, there’s a few steps they’ll need to get to that. At this point Phoenix still hasn’t confessed his feelings for Leona. He does so here, on this beach.

Leona tries to protest.

Leona: But I’m pushy, selfish, and only care about my goals... You’d get fed up with me.

Phoenix: That’s what I’ve always admired about you. That’s who I’ve been chasing all these years. That’s the only person... I love.

Sooo, Phoenix, your type is pushy selfish people who only care about their goals...? In the first, older lower-quality video translation it was “only care about my work”, too. Hm. Things to think about.

They sing a little duet together. Then we go back to present-day of what’s technically still a flashback. Whatever. Murder is happening.

Back To The Murder

So some plot things to establish: Leona is the legal counsel of Governor Miller, who is running for president in the AMERICAN PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION. After the flashback so that Phoenix has some time to change clothes, they show an interview of him talking about the murder.

Governor Miller: I vow to forge a peaceful country with my own two hands, and to prepare myself for whatever may lie ahead.

Reporters: Through thick and thin, he’s a friend of the people!

The Takarazuka musicals are not very good at hiding their killers.

Phoenix: Oh yeah... It’s almost time for the presidential election, isn’t it?

NEVER FORGET, WRIGHT. THIS IS AMERICA. LAND OF THE FREE! god what even was that line.

Anyways, we meet Gumshoe, who is incompetent once again. Maya runs around the crime scene, picks up the murder weapon, puts her fingerprints all over everything, moves things around, all while Phoenix is like “lol get a load of the world’s stupidest girl” or whatever. But who cares about that.

It’s time to get to the only valid part of this musical.

Edgeworth’s Gay Little Villain Solo

You may have seen this one before.

Edgeworth arrives, but not really. It’s like Phoenix heard Edgeworth was prosecuting and immediately entered a dream-like state, where Edgeworth is heralded by the sound of trumpets in Great Revival. He’s played by a different actress than in the other two musicals, since I think she retired in between the six or so months from this musical to the second. She still plays the role well, though, or as well as can be when you’re written in an ace attorney Takarazuka musical.

Shrouded in scarlet solitude... it’s Edgeworth.

Yes, those are six Edgeworths. Yes, they pick Phoenix up and carry him around and dance with him. Yes, it was probably not meant to be at all homoerotic.

He sings a song that’s called “My rule”. I only figured this out later, but it’s loosely based on a “catchphrase” of his in the Japanese version - in game 1 he says something along the lines of “All I can do is get every defendant declared guilty! So I make that my policy.” In DD in his dramatic anime introduction before the trial, he says “I intend to question the defendant with all I have. For that is a part of my creed.” “So I make that my policy” and “For that is a part of my creed”, to my understanding, are both translated from the same line, which I think is like, “sore ga watashi no ruru”, “That is my rule.” (If I’m wrong, please correct me.) In this song he sings about how he’ll reduce all criminals to ash and such, basically talks about his game 1 prosecuting strategy as “my rule”.

It’s very fun and probably if you want to only watch one number of this musical, it can be this one. It starts about 26:10 in the video I linked.

Once the musical number is done, Phoenix and Edgeworth stare at each other, and the background fades into the courtroom, so court begins. I feel like I should note that Phoenix has not picked up any evidence or talked to any witnesses in this investigation except for Gumshoe, since Maya just moved some things around and then Phoenix had some weird fever dream about Edgeworth which presumably took up the rest of the day.

The Trial, Day 1

Edgeworth: Consider it a prelude to the poignant Greek tragedy that’s about to unfold.

Maya: The real tragedy’s your pompous attitude!

Those are the only screenshots I took of this trial day. Here’s a summary, though:

The trial starts off with Leona confessing, Phoenix says “no I think she’s innocent”, and since ace attorney doesn’t care about the defendant’s wishes he’s allowed to proceed. For some reason Leona lets him do this without complaint.

Gumshoe is the first witness, he claims to have caught Leona red-handed at the scene of the crime, standing over the corpse. Phoenix tries to claim that since Gumshoe didn’t see Leona committing the crime, he didn’t actually catch her red-handed, to which Edgeworth responds “What do you think being caught red-handed means?”

Once Gumshoe is dismissed, Lotta takes the stand. She has a photo of the actual moment of the crime, where Leona is holding a knife in the air in front of the victim.

The Takarazuka musicals like to do this thing where the image is blurry and zoomed out, but then Phoenix will go “I’VE NOTICED A CONTRADICTION” and it zooms in really far as the resolution increases drastically in order to show you the contradiction that is impossible to spot for yourself, because they don’t want people figuring out the mystery in this musical based off of a video game where you have to solve the mystery yourself. Anyways Phoenix zooms in on this photo and sees that there’s blood on Leona’s hand, presumably before she stabbed the victim. How did it get there?

Edgeworth suggests the victim was stabbed multiple times. Phoenix says the autopsy report contradicts that. Edgeworth, uncharacteristically, does not update it to suit his argument.

Phoenix concludes that this photo is not showing the moment Leona stabbed the victim, but the moment Leona removed the knife! ... Which somehow casts doubt on her having been the one to stab the victim. Because as everyone knows, anyone wanting to kill someone would never remove a knife, it’s not like they’d bleed out faster that way, or anything.

And this whole contradiction is confusing because presumably if the victim was stabbed and then the knife was removed, they’d know that happened, because then the knife would not be found stuck in the victim’s body, since the victim was only stabbed once. So this shouldn’t be news to the prosecution that someone removed the knife after stabbing. But the investigation was headed by the most incompetent version of Gumshoe ever, so. sure. I guess no one knew.

That at least manages to extend the trial another day.

This Totally Has To Be Illegal

After the trial, Phoenix goes to talk to Governor Miller, aka Mr. Totally The Real Killer. Phoenix asks him why he decided to hire Leona as his legal advisor.

Basically, it’s because her parents were both renowned lawyers. Her father was a Chief Prosecutor, and her mother was a defense attorney. ... a prosecutor and a defense attorney couple... who does that remind us of...

Phoenix points out that just because her parents were good lawyers, it doesn’t mean she’d necessarily be one. Miller says that, sure, but she is actually really talented, and her law school marks were spectacular. Phoenix says “WHY WERE YOU LOOKING AT HER LAW SCHOOL MARKS”, like it’s somehow? suspicious? for a government official hiring legal counsel to look at their law school marks?

Apparently it IS suspicious because Governor Miller freaks out and asks if this is an interrogation. Before Phoenix can press much further, he gets a phone call, and leaves Phoenix alone in a big room.

So naturally Phoenix behaves like a fully grown adult running a law firm.

If all he did was sit in the chair, lift up a desk lamp, and poke his finger on a pen, that’s one thing. But then he leans over, OPENS THE GOVERNOR’S DESK DRAWER, and finds a knife that’s just sitting there casually. It looks like a butter knife. It’s not anything major. Maybe the dude just wanted to butter his toast?

I mean I know Phoenix will dig around in stuff whenever in the games, but he has no reason to suspect Governor Miller at all, much less dig through his drawer probably full of confidential government documents to lift up a knife that he thinks is suspicious. It’s not even covered in blood or anything?

Naturally Governor Miller’s assistant comes in just then, and Phoenix puts the knife. in his breast pocket.

bud. It may look like a butter knife, but putting knives up against your chest is not a great idea. Much less stealing a knife from a governor?

Well, in his panic, he accidentally knocks over a bunch of books on the desk. The governor’s assistant helps him pick them up, and they find a photo. Look a little familiar?

The photo has the assistant, the victim Robert Cole, Governor Miller, and the victim’s brother who died in an incident two years ago. He’s the “Neil Marshall” of this musical, and he died in what was essentially the SL-9 incident. Same general premise, except it occurred in the courthouse, and the names are different.

AND FINALLY WE REACH THE END OF ACT 1. They do a musical number here which is a weird sort of mashup of the main opening credits song, Edgeworth’s Villain Solo, and the love duet between Phoenix and Leona. They are all such different songs that it sounds a little weird.

ACT 2, FINALLY

The act begins on a sour note with Maya playing with the knife and showing off her characterization, which is one of the most infuriating Maya characterizations you’ll sometimes see around the fandom by people who don’t like Maya.

Maya: Let me whip up my special spirit channeler hamburgers!

sigh.

But then we’re saved (?) by the arrival of EDGEWORTH, who is presumably just here to chat. He asks Phoenix if he’s defending Leona in hopes of winning her back, then says to keep out of it, since it’s a very important case and he can’t understand the gravity of it.

Then Phoenix says this.

Phoenix: Would you be saying that if you were the one on trial? The defendant is in a dark prison, reaching out for hope... Can you imagine the loneliness and sorrow of being ostracized?

CAN YOU IMAGINE IT, EDGEWORTH? CAN YOU IMAGINE IF YOU WERE ON TRIAL AND I WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO WOULD DEFEND YOU AND BELIEVED IN YOUR INNOCENCE??

Edgeworth responds to this by essentially rehashing his speech in Turnabout Sisters about how he needs to find all defendants guilty because he can’t guarantee their innocence and all that. Maya gets upset and leaves so that Phoenix and Edgeworth can talk about their childhood in private.

Phoenix once again complains about how people change since nine years old.

Phoenix then says that he has something Edgeworth doesn’t: the POWER TO BELIEVE! Then Maya comes in and tries to spike Edgeworth’s coffee, so he leaves.

The Class Trial

Phoenix explains a bit about Edgeworth and his backstory to Maya. Namely, the class trial. Phoenix was accused of stealing lunch money, Edgeworth stood up for him, but instead of Larry, Leona stood up for him. I guess Suzuki Kei thought “oh the class trial, if Leona stood up for him, it would be so romantic, because she’s a woman, and he’s a man”, or something like that.

Edgeworth wanted to become a Great Lawyer Like His Father! But then he turned cold as ice.

Phoenix: His father got too deeply involved in a case... and paid for it with his life. Edgeworth saw him murdered. He was never the same again. I bet he couldn’t forgive the criminal.

Yeah I bet he couldn’t ever forgive the person he thought killed his father all these years, Phoenix. I bet he really hates that person, Phoenix. I bet he has nightmares about that person killing his father or something, Phoenix.

Phoenix: He vanished, then returned without his mercy or compassion. He had become a monster. When he lost his father, he also lost the ability to believe in others.

So like... one of the most chilling things about this musical is that they never actually solve DL-6. This probably roughly takes place 15 years after DL-6, since they were about the same age when the class trial started, and at least Leona is 24 now. The next musical takes place three years from now, and in it, Edgeworth refers to von Karma as his mentor, implying he’s still around and doing things.

So, in addition to everything else going wrong with this musical, DL-6 still happens, but von Karma never frames Edgeworth for it fifteen years later. The statute of limitations runs out, and von Karma forever gets away with his crime. And Edgeworth has no idea.

What changes did they make to DL-6, though, you may ask? I’m desperate to know as well. In the third musical, which I’ve watched because I hate myself but am unable to fully understand because I don’t know much Japanese, there is a scene where Miles flashbacks to DL-6. It’s abstract, but he makes gun-throwing motions at Gregory, followed by a gunshot sound.

Therefore, in this musical’s internal canon, either Miles Edgeworth shot his father, or he believes he did for the rest of his life.

... moving on.

Phoenix: But he still has his humanity. It’s still there, deep down inside!

At least, if nothing else, Phoenix still believes in him. Even this Takarazuka Musical couldn’t touch that.

The Feenie Sweater

Right after this, Larry barges in, and Phoenix leaves him alone with Maya. The musical tries teasing Larry/Maya, but fortunately, Maya’s having none of it.

Maya: You’re barking up the wrong tree.

Props to this musical for not being as bad as it could have been.

After this, the two sit down on the couch, and Maya asks for more gossip on Phoenix and Leona. Larry launches into a story, which turns into a flashback that ends up being narrated by Phoenix halfway through. This one’s about Phoenix and Leona’s relationship.

This is an interesting line in here, “I’ll guide you to the future”, for it loosely referencing the sort of love ballad Phoenix sings with Lucia in the second musical which is about “I’ll take you to that radiant future”, and he later sings to the memory of Leona right around the time of his big spiral into despair.

I’m sorry if you haven’t read my other essay and just said “wait what” to what I just typed.

Leona was getting ready to move to New York to defend the weak “in the big city”. This is rather strange wording because it implies that California does not in fact have a big city. She says some things in her conversation with Phoenix that probably plant some of his later issues.

Leona: This is the first time we’ll be apart since we were kids.

Leona: We promised we’d always be together.

Leona: I’ll be waiting. Waiting for you to come to me.

Haha. Sure would be a shame... if something were to happen... and they wouldn’t be able to be together anymore...

So some dancers wearing black come in and take off their outer jackets, to symbolize the passage of time. They circle around Phoenix and Leona. In this, you can just barely see, Phoenix is wearing a pink sweater beneath his jacket.

“Oh,” I think to myself, “Is that the Feenie sweater? Are they including it here as a reference to the games?”

Then the dancers keep moving.

THAT IS NOT THE FEENIE SWEATER. That is a pink sweater with a sexily drawn woman on it.

This is the other half of the reason why I decided to go through with making this essay.

This is so incredibly funny to me. Suzuki Kei Who Has Played The Games Seven Times has seen the hand-knit bright pink sweater with a giant red heart on it seven times. The sweater Iris, Phoenix’s girlfriend, lovingly knit for him that he wears all the time even though it is one of the tackiest, cheesiest items of clothing to ever exist. And so, when the costume designers were designing the clothes for College Phoenix Wright, they asked themselves: “Should we include the Feenie sweater?”

and “NO,” someone must have shouted, “NO, we can NOT include the Feenie sweater, it is PINK and it has a HEART on it and it’s TOO GIRLY. Phoenix Wright is a MANLY MAN. He would not EVER wear something PINK with a HEART on it.”

“BUT,” someone else said, “it’s a REFERENCE to the original games, where he DID wear a pink sweater with a heart on it! We MUST include it to pander to the fans!”

“WAIT,” a third person interjected. “I have a BRILLIANT IDEA. We can keep the pink... But to make it VERY CLEAR he is a heterosexual, masculine male... we put a sexy woman on it.”

And Person Three Got A Raise.

Thank god we’re finally halfway done this musical.

We Just Have To Go On With Our Lives Now

There’s plot or something happening. Leona breaks up with Phoenix inexplicably over the phone. Probably because of that freaking sweater. Imagine wearing that. God.

Eventually we go back to Phoenix talking to Leona, and he asks about the Jack Lyon case, which is the rip-off version of the Joe Darke case. Leona is pretty cagey about it, but Phoenix proves that she was there in the gallery that day. Leona refuses to answer, claims again that she killed the victim in her case, and leaves.

This makes Phoenix sad, so he starts singing.

Phoenix: I want to bring you back! I believe in you.

If this sounds familiar, it’s the part where I started absolutely losing my mind in the second musical because this line had never shown up before then, I’d forgotten it was in this musical, and Phoenix was screaming it alone in a red room, so I thought he was like desperately resorting to a necromancy ritual in hopes of bringing Leona back to life.

Instead, this line actually has CONTEXT, though it does just end up enforcing my theory. This is Phoenix mourning what he used to have with Leona, wanting to bring the “old her” back, because he’s devastated that people sometimes change. There are several flashbacks of their college days where he’s wearing his Sexy Woman Sweater. He does succeed in winning her back at the end of this musical. Before she dies, of course.

Phoenix in musical 2 still believes that he can bring back what he used to have with Leona... even beyond death. That’s something affirmed by this musical. I’m very grateful to it for somehow managing to enforce my nonsensical theory.

Doctor Ema

After this, Phoenix returns to his office, and meets with someone new.

That’s right! Only now, halfway through the musical, do we actually get to meet the Ema-equivalent to Leona’s Lana-equivalent. Her name is Monica Clyde. She has little rainbow heart stickers on her briefcase, which is the closest thing this musical has to acknowledging that gay people exist.

But what does this little briefcase contain, you may ask? Scientific investigation tools? No.

A full surgical toolset. Because you never know when someone’ll get sick, or when someone will need an entire operation in front of you. I guess.

So yes, Monica Clyde is not a forensic scientist in training, but a doctor! She decided to become a doctor because of her parents, who passed away of The Sickness, and so became a doctor in order to save lives like theirs.

Once more this has much darker and deeper implications than the musical is even aware of, because Monica is so anxious about treating sick people that she carries a full surgical toolset around with her at all times, scared to lose someone like she lost her parents... and then sometime in the next three years, Leona, her big sister, is going to die.

Of what? The strange Sickness that claimed her parents? A car accident? A botched spur-of-the-moment surgery? Whatever it is, Monica was unable to save her, even when she’d been training her entire life for it.

Monica is not mentioned at all throughout the second musical. It’s as if she does not exist.

Because unlike Ema of Rise From The Ashes, Monica is not at the heart of this story. She is, primarily, a plot device here to make Leona not trust Phoenix so that he can angst about their relationship.

What a mess this world is.

The Trial, Part 2

Rather than try to prove Leona’s innocence, Phoenix wants to link the current case to not-SL-9, the Jack Lyon case. He does this by showing this picture.

Senator Cole, the victim, is in this picture. His younger brother whose name I’ve forgotten, the victim of not-SL-9, is also in this picture. They are brothers. It is apparently novel that they are in the same picture, and somehow makes their cases linked.

As well, Governor Miller is in the picture. I guess you could say like... Governor Miller’s legal counsel is the defendant, so that’s another link? Even though the Governor would presumably know a Senator, so this isn’t an unusual group. Right now Phoenix has absolutely nothing to prove that these two cases are linked other than “hey, these two victims are brothers”, but apparently it works. So they spend a lot of time talking about not-SL-9, since Leona has confessed to the murder on day 1 and there is absolutely nothing indicating that she can’t be immediately declared guilty.

They hid the fact that Monica was a hostage in this not-SL-9, meaning that some of the case records were forged. Here’s Edgeworth’s reaction when this comes out.

Edgeworth: This is an outrage! I’m the most influential prosecutor in America! There’s nothing I don’t know!

In RFTA, when Edgeworth learns he’d been using forged evidence to give a man the death penalty, he is devastated, his entire worldview is shaken, he sees himself as a monster who could end up becoming horribly corrupt if he isn’t stopped.

Musical Edgeworth goes “I DIDN’T KNOW SOMETHING???”

It’s certainly strange characterization, but I guess Edgeworth is further behind in his character arc than in RFTA, so... ugh. Fine.

Phoenix calls Monica out as a witness to prove she was involved in the case. This causes Leona to panic, and try to dismiss Phoenix as her attorney, like Lana in RFTA, but Edgeworth interjects to call Monica in anyways. He and Phoenix have a little moment.

Edgeworth: You said to believe in others. I suppose I’ll try believing in you. Try to keep up.

Phoenix: Edgeworth!

So Monica comes to the stand to testify. We get to see this picture of Monica being held hostage, and not-Joe-Darke’s incredible eyeliner.

Lots of it is very similar to the actual RFTA, except instead of the victim being stabbed on the knight with the giant knife, he’s instead stabbed with a regular old knife. Leona still refuses to admit to what really happened, until Edgeworth convinces her to believe in Phoenix.

Edgeworth: Your attorney is a runaway train with a one-track mind. Yet he placed all of his faith in you. Believe in him. You owe him that much.

Leona testifies, and says that when she found the victim, he was stabbed with a scalpel.

Here is where things get weird.

Scalpels Can’t Kill People

So basically earlier in this trial, they talk about how Leona knew that the knife that stabbed the victim was double-edged despite being buried in his chest. The judge questions if this means Leona killed him, but Phoenix is quick to say no, she was searched when she entered the courthouse and couldn’t have concealed a knife.

Yet, Monica was able to bring in her surgical toolkit which contains several sharp knives, scalpels, scissors, etc.

This is the first major contradiction.

Leona continues to say that when she found Monica, and the scalpel stabbed in the victim, she also ran into Governor Miller, who if you haven’t been able to tell yet is the Gant-equivalent of this musical. He offered to help her with the cover-up, etc.

The next bit goes a lot like RFTA. Phoenix accuses Governor Miller, who barges in, says Phoenix has the decisive evidence in his pocket. This is the “butter knife” that Phoenix took from his office when he dug around in confidential documents and stole it for no particular reason. It has Monica’s fingerprints on it! ... And Phoenix’s and Maya’s too probably because they were handling it without gloves, but they don’t mention that part.

Leona cries about how she shouldn’t have trusted Phoenix because he was apparently now blaming Monica, Monica looks terrified, she and Leona have some good sister moments but it’s not as good as it could be if the story was actually about Leona and Monica like how RFTA was about Lana and Ema. But Phoenix has the decisive piece of evidence that can turn this around.

It is this:

Phoenix: Scalpels are made for medical incisions, not stabbings. So how did it stab the victim?

...

... What?

So like. Yes, scalpels are made for medical incisions. Medical incisions often involve cutting through flesh, very easily. As a result, they are sharp. Extremely sharp. As in: their purpose is literally to stab people, very specifically.

Yes, they’re easier to control, so that surgeons don’t regularly stab people how they’re not supposed to be stabbed, but it’s not like, impossible to stab someone in a killing way with a scalpel? Admittedly, I have never tried to kill someone using a scalpel. And I do not have experience using a scalpel for surgeries because I am not a surgeon. But I’m pretty sure, if you take a sharp scalpel, and you stab someone in the chest with it with a reasonable amount of force... they die.

Like, is this a particular kind of scalpel that is not very sharp? Is the problem that the blade doesn’t match up with the initial wound? But even then, we don’t have the original unforged autopsy report or even a picture, so how would Phoenix know what the original wound looked like to say it didn’t match up? And even then why wouldn’t Phoenix say that instead of SCALPELS CAN’T STAB PEOPLE???

This is his decisive contradiction and it makes ABSOLUTELY NO SENSE TO ME!!!

Well Darn I Guess Scalpels Can’t Kill People

This is such a decisive piece of evidence, that scalpels can’t kill people, coming from the man who thought “caught red-handed” does not involve being caught standing over a corpse with blood on your hands, that it causes Governor Miller to confess.

Unlike Gant, who created the murder with Neil Marshall both to ensure that there was decisive evidence to convict Joe Darke, a serial killer who had not left any decisive evidence behind, and gain control over the prosecutor’s office in order to pull similar stunts to get criminals convicted using false evidence, Governor Miller does not have that as his motive. After all, he’s not a police officer. Instead, he ended up accidentally killing not-Joe-Darke, and then set up the incident in order to get Leona on his side. As her parents were both influential lawyers and very respectable, having her and her parents’ reputation on his side could help him become President of America Where This Takes Place.

So, let’s just take a moment to run over some of the things that made the original Rise From The Ashes great, in my opinion. Just for fun.

1 - The heart of the story between the Skye sisters. Lana closing off to protect Ema, Ema wanting to get through to her sister and get back to the way things used to be. Phoenix, in this story, is more of a bystander to this plotline rather than in the heart of it himself.

2 - Edgeworth’s Character Development. Basically RFTA creates an interesting transition between Turnabout Goodbyes and JFA. It causes Edgeworth to re-evaluate everything he knows about being a prosecutor. So quickly on the heels of Turnabout Goodbyes, it crushes the last bit of hope in him. It compares him to Gant, who also hates criminals, and forces him to wonder if his hatred of crime will one day lead to him being a criminal himself. He’s already convicted one person on forged evidence; how many others could there be?

3 - The Ends Justify The Means. ... wait come back, don’t leave. What I found neat about this case was also Gant’s motive. At one point he was presumably an honest person who hated crime and wanted to stop criminals. But over time in the police force, he became corrupted. He wanted to have all criminals convicted. So what do you do when you don’t have the evidence to convict them? Joe Darke was a serial killer who has killed several people and may have killed more if he’d gone free. The only way to stop and convict him was by using forged evidence. Other criminals could hide evidence to get away with their crimes, so people like Gant would make it up to catch them; but then when do you stop? What happens if there’s no evidence because someone is truly innocent? When does the line between “this person is a criminal and I want to stop them” and “I just want to convict everyone I’m dealing with” become blurred? This is also something he shares with Edgeworth and helps to advance his character.

All three of these things are either lessened or outright ignored in this musical. Leona and Monica’s story takes a backseat to Phoenix and Leona’s Love Story, with Monica only showing up halfway through, and mainly as an excuse as to why Leona is withdrawn. Edgeworth doesn’t seem to blame himself for the forged evidence he used, and doesn’t have a crisis questioning his morality over it. And Governor Miller’s motive is purely power. Unlike Gant, who would have become Chief of Police whether he solved SL-9 or not, Miller needed Leona to win the presidency. And instead of asking her to help him with his campaign like a normal person, he just blackmailed her instead.

... How do you play the games seven times and miss this much?

The Case Finally Ends

god. we’re almost there.

The case ends, Leona is declared not guilty but will still face trial for covering up murders and such. Probably less of a sentence than Lana because she was not involved in ongoing police corruption? Either way she’s dead in three years, so she’s got something a bit more concerning coming up.

She’s led away. Phoenix sings a bit about Leona before being interrupted by Edgeworth... who has something important to tell him.

Edgeworth: You awakened within me those once-cherished emotions I had discarded. I see visions of a distant, nostalgic past.

So basically this is the unnecessary feelings of the musical. Something along the lines of “seeing you again and fighting for my former ideals is making me question many things about myself.”

How does Phoenix respond?

Phoenix: Edgeworth... Try talking normally for a chance.

Sure, we were all thinking it, but that’s a little cold, Phoenix.

Edgeworth tries a smooth recovery.

Edgeworth: I don’t do... idle chit-chat.

This doesn’t accomplish much. So he leaves to allow Leona to visit with Phoenix alone. He’s got to go change for something more important coming up.

Leona and Phoenix decide that they’re going to get back together once Leona is done her sentence! They make a promise that is very funny if you know she’ll be dead in three years.

Phoenix: I’ll be waiting. For you.

There are a lot of hugs here, I’m not screencapping them all. There are also several moments where their faces get very close together and like, their nose brushes the other’s cheek or something, but they never actually kiss. Is it because the actresses weren’t comfortable with it (valid), or they thought kissing would be too much for the musical (sure, whatever), or since both characters are played by women the show staff did not want two women kissing on stage (probably the real answer)? I don’t like watching kisses, but I kept bracing myself for one and then it never happened, so.

Phoenix ends the main part of the musical with one last musical number starring my personal favourite piece:

Phoenix: I want to bring you back! I believe in you.

I like to think that at this point, this is present-day Phoenix, after finishing his reminiscing, still desperately wishing he could bring Leona back from death.

But alas, he cannot. And so, after one last daydream of them dancing together on the beaches of California, singing about their love, the musical ends.

Dance Time!

This starts at exactly the two hour mark, if you’re interested in watching what is, once again, one of the only fun parts of this musical.

Seriously, Edgeworth’s actress kills it here, when I first saw this I went “oh, this is why I saw so many people being gay for her on twitter.”

Edgeworth’s song is an encore of “My Rule”, so it’s lots of fun. Afterwards Phoenix gets another fun piece.

Then we get to the love ballad part, which I can probably overanalyze, I feel like I haven’t done enough ridiculous over-analyzing in this essay in comparison to the other.

Uhhh so the fog represents how Phoenix feels lost in this world without Leona. You can see it in the second screenshot separating the two of them, representing the barrier of death between the two of them. Idk it’s midnight I’m getting worn out from having to think about this musical for so long.

But his mourning over Leona’s death becomes even more apparent in the credits, where Phoenix sings that one line again:

Phoenix: I want to bring you back! I believe in you.

I’m not fixing that screenshot, I think it’s oddly fitting, in a way. That’s me right now.

Then at the very end, he sings this song.

Phoenix: I’ll spend... this eternal life... soaring through... the heavens!

Technically, this refers to his name Phoenix, but let’s dig a little deeper. He spends the rest of his life soaring through the heavens... the heavens that Leona went to after her untimely death, perhaps?

Overall, the musical becomes much more interesting when you just see it as a prequel to the second musical. This musical establishes many core concepts of Phoenix’s character: his refusal to believe in the concept of things changing, for one, and also his extreme dependency on Leona who he was never separated from since they were kids and where he based his entire life around her dreams and ideals. All he can think about is her. And in the end, he promises to wait for her in California.

Yet, to paraphrase Miles Edgeworth, all that is waiting for him is her death. Their dream of opening up a Mom & Pop Law Firm will never come true.

Thanks again for bearing with me even though this wasn’t as funny!

#ace attorney #phoenix wright the truth reborn #idk maybe someone wanted to know what the first musical was like without actually watching it?#my essays #my posts #i'm TIRED i'm going to BED goodNIGHT #this is less funny jokes and more actually criticizing the musical #because so much of this is like. wow. you really thought that was a good idea huh #just skip to the feenie sweater part honestly that's the funniest part of this musical

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here4theheartbreak · 4 years ago

Text

Bewitched by Babysitter (NamKook)

AO3 Link Here!

Relationship: Jungkook x Namjoon

Genre: smut, fluff | Rating: Explicit | Word Count: ~6.9k

Summary: Namjoon is a young, single father who is set up on a blind date. He needs a babysitter, and his friend knows just the man to help.

Tags: smut, fluff, getting together, dad Namjoon, college student Jungkook, dirty talk, bareback, rough sex, coming untouched

Dating was hard as hell. Being a single parent made it exponentially more difficult. Which was mostly why Namjoon hadn’t bothered to try. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. He was lonely, he missed intimacy both emotionally and physically… But he just couldn’t be bothered. That and, if directly asked, Namjoon would admit that the thought of leaving his girl alone to go on a date was far more stress than was worth it. She was his life, and had been since the day she was put in his arms.

But Mingi was beginning to get older, and Namjoon knew he’d need to loosen that grip eventually. She was due to go to school for the first time the next year, and he’d still not spent more than a few hours away from her, save for when his parents wrenched her away for a grandparent play date.

It was his best friend, Yoongi, that had suggested the blind date. And the babysitter. Jeon Jungkook was a handsome twenty-one-year-old college student. He was finishing up his junior year, and Yoongi knew him through his boyfriend; Hoseok, who was a frequent guest teacher in one of Jungkook’s dance classes. So, he was an adult, responsible, and came highly praised. The date, on the other hand, was simply someone Yoongi knew. Minimal information, but he figured they’d get along and didn’t want to spoil the surprise. Namjoon would have much rather spent the evening playing games with Mingi.

But, if anything to appease his friend, Namjoon begrudgingly prepped for the date, cleaning himself up and making himself look quite presentable. He worked from home, and often forgot what going out clothing looked like, but a quick photo to Yoongi and a thumbs up emoji response told him he’d managed to pull something off. He was just applying a touch of cologne when the doorbell rang.

“I get it!” Screamed Mingi, who had been excited about the prospect of a new friend all week since Namjoon had broken the news. He rushed out behind her, his heart pounding in his ears. Maybe he’d hate the guy. A bad gut feeling, a drug smell, something. Anything to cancel this date.

Namjoon came around the side of the door that Mingi had thrown open. His breath slammed from his chest, the oxygen seeming to leave the room. Standing on his doorstep was the most beautiful man Namjoon had ever seen. He wore an open leather jacket over a simple black t-shirt. His jeans were far too tight (they were just right, who was he kidding), and had a perfectly placed thigh rip, revealing musculature that any man of their age group would envy. Heavy, flat soled sneakers and a perfectly styled undercut topped off the look, the neon red strap of a backpack visible over one shoulder.

“You must be Kim Namjoon.”

The boy’s voice was just as heavenly as the rest of his body. He lowered his gaze and grinned, his nose crinkling to reveal large front teeth. “And you must be Kim Mingi. My name’s Jungkook. I heard you’re in charge tonight,” he said. There was no hint of baby talk in his voice – in fact it didn’t change one octave, something Namjoon appreciated. He abhorred baby talk. Jungkook crouched down and offered his hand to her. Mingi giggled and shook it, looking up at Namjoon.

“I’m in charge!”

“Always, princess,” Namjoon said. Jungkook rose once more and stuck his hand out over Mingi’s head.

“Pleased to meet you. Hobi-hyung’s told me a lot about you.”

“Not too much bad, I hope.”

“Not a thing.”

“Please, come in. I’ll show you around. You’re right on time.”

Jungkook entered, stepping around Mingi. He kicked off his sneakers at the door and followed Namjoon through the house.

“The kitchen, you’re welcome to anything except the beer, of course. Mingi insisted on ordering in, so there’s a few menus and a card you can use.”

Jungkook glanced over at it and nodded. Namjoon led him down the hall. “Bathroom, Mingi’s room, she doesn’t need a bath or anything tonight, so no need to worry about that. Just make sure she brushes her teeth. Bedtime is at seven sharp, but she’ll do all she can to stay up later with more stories.”

Jungkook laughed a little at that, a bright thing that had Namjoon’s heart skipping a few beats. (He should really consider getting that checked out if it kept happening).

He led Jungkook out of the room and into the living room. “So my room’s there – it’s pretty much the only place off limits for Min when I’m not at home, my work stuff is breakable, so I ask that you keep the door shut.”

Jungkook nodded. He glanced around the living room and smiled when his eyes landed on Mingi, sprawled out on the floor. She was holding a bright pink and yellow Pegasus stuffed animal, making quiet airplane noises as she moved it back and forth through the air.

Jungkook went over. He set his backpack down and laid on his back, watching her.

“Is that the noises she makes?” He asked.

“It’s a boy. His name is Min Yoongi, like my Uncle Yoongi.”

“Ohh,” Jungkook nodded, “I’m sure Yoongi would appreciate that.”

“You know my Uncle?”

Jungkook nodded. “I go to school with his…” Jungkook drifted off, looking to Namjoon.

“With Uncle Hobi,” Namjoon filled in. Jungkook seemed to relax visibly and smiled.

“Yeah, he teaches me dance.”

Mingi gasped. “You dance? Can you show me dances? I wanna dance.” She pouted. “But Daddy wants me to be older.”

Jungkook laughed a little. “Well when you’re older he might be able to put you into a class. We can dance tonight if you want. Do you know good music?”

“Uh-huh! I love Crayon Pop.”

“Wah, Crayon Pop, they’re awesome!” Jungkook cried. Mingi sat up.

“You like them?” She clapped excitedly. “Daddy! He likes Crayon Pop!”

Namjoon smiled helplessly. “What luck! You two can listen to them tonight.”

Jungkook sat up and then rose, brushing his jeans off. “Any limits on screens or anything?”

“Normally, yes, but not tonight,” Namjoon said. “Figured, special occasion. Just try to make sure she only watches… You know, child friendly stuff.”

“I’ll keep a close eye on it,” Jungkook assured him.

“I should be home no later than ten or eleven. Honestly, probably not even that long.”

Jungkook shook his head. “Hobi-hyung told me a little. You’ve not been out in a while. Take your time. We’ll be okay here.”

Namjoon smiled sheepishly. “How pathetic, huh?” He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling self-conscious. “You’re twenty-one, right?”

Jungkook nodded.

“Ridiculous. We’re only three years apart. And I’m pretty much an old miser.”

“You are far too handsome to be an old miser,” Jungkook said, grinning brightly. Namjoon’s heart did that dangerous stutter step once more.

“I—Uh—Oh.” Namjoon cleared his throat. He hurried over to a desk and scrawled on a notepad. “My number is here. Feel free to call or text if you need anything, I’ll answer.”

“Of course. When do you go?”

Namjoon glanced at his phone. “I should head off now… I don’t wanna get caught in traffic.”

Jungkook nodded. He shrugged off his jacket and laid it over the arm of the couch. Namjoon’s breathing, once again, cut off at the sight of the muscles in his forearms. He looked strong… And fit…

Jungkook cleared his throat, and Namjoon looked up, his eyes widening at being caught staring. He turned quickly and scooped Mingi up. “Daddy’s gonna go now, okay?”

“Can we really order takeout?”

Namjoon nodded. “Yep, just let Jungkook know when you’re hungry.” She wiggled a little in Namjoon’s arms to look at Jungkook.

“I’m hungry!”

Jungkook grinned. “As soon as your Daddy leaves we’ll order. Maybe you could talk me into dessert.” He winked in mock sneakiness, and Mingi’s eyes widened. She giggled behind her hands and did her best to wink back, blinking both eyes instead.

Namjoon’s heart squeezed. He was great with her. He kissed Mingi’s cheek and set her down. “Behave for Jungkook, okay?”

“I promise!”

Namjoon pulled on his jacket and hunted for his wallet. “Like I said, call if you need anything,” he said.

Jungkook rushed forward, grabbing it from a nearby table and passing it to Namjoon. “You look great. She’s gonna be blown away tonight,” Jungkook said, straightening the collar of Namjoon’s coat.

“Thank you. See you later.” He waved to Mingi as he tugged on his shoes. He took a moment to glance back before hurrying out, knowing that if he didn’t leave that moment, he wouldn’t go at all.

The thing about blind dates was that they always had the chance of failure. About a hundred things could potentially go wrong. The most glaring issue, of course, is simple lack of compatibility. Which, unfortunately for Namjoon, was becoming the apparent issue with this one.

Bora was a lovely woman, she honestly was. And Namjoon understood right away why Yoongi thought they’d work well together. Bora was as smart as a whip, and devastatingly funny. She was beautiful as well, and clearly had a good head on her shoulders. But something was off. Namjoon couldn’t put his finger on it. Their personalities worked, and he was sure they’d be great friends, but there was simply no spark there. More than once he found his mind wandering as she spoke, and he caught her wandering just as frequently. He was grateful when his phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number.

“Oh, excuse me. This is likely my sitter. I need to use the restroom anyway.” he said. Once she nodded, looking just as grateful as he did for the break, Namjoon rose and headed toward the bathroom. Near to it, he tapped open his phone and clicked the text.

‘Miss Mingi insisted that I send you and Hobi-hyung this for your formal critique, Mr.Kim.’ Attached was a video. Namjoon’s brows furrowed as he pressed play. It was filmed in his living room, the phone propped up on his couch, if he wasn’t mistaken. Jungkook backed up and pressed play on the YouTube video paused on the television. Immediately a cheery song drifted from the speakers, one Namjoon knew well – Bar Bar Bar, from Crayon Pop. Mingi and Jungkook stood side by side, facing the camera. He looked at her and counted softly. On one, they began doing the choreography to the music. Jungkook’s moves were smooth and obviously practiced. Mingi was a little less cohesive, often losing her place and looking to Jungkook for guidance. He kept an eye on her, helping her catch up by exaggerating the moves when she’d get lost. Mingi’s laughter covered the sound of the music as she caught on, bouncing to the bright beat. Jungkook was grinning broadly, visible even from the distance of the camera.

When the video ended, Namjoon blinked, surprised to find his eyes had watered. He wasn’t an extremely emotional man – even with his daughter… But there was something about it. His heart clenched when he scrolled back in the video. He paused it at a perfect moment. Mingi was looking up at Jungkook, her eyes wide and adoring. Jungkook was looking down, his expression filled with an equal amount of adoration.

Namjoon blinked quickly to clear his vision, sniffing. He tapped out a response.

‘100 out of 100 for Miss Mingi. 90 out of 100 for Mr. Jeon – your form was off for 0.005 seconds ;)’

Namjoon slipped into the bathroom, taking a moment to collect himself before heading back out to the table with Bora.

On the way his phone buzzed once more, and he couldn’t resist checking it.

‘I call a biased judging! But she’s adorable, so it can slide :D’

Namjoon chuckled and slid his phone into his pocket as he sat down.

“Everything okay?” Bora asked.

“Yeah, just my sitter checking in.”

Bora sighed, folding her hands neatly over her nearly empty plate. “Tonight has been nice, Namjoon-ssi… But I think you and I both can sense it’s not going anywhere. At least not… Where we’d like it to go.”

Namjoon’s shoulders slumped. He nodded, hanging his head. “I’m sorry. I feel bad, I wanted to make it work.”

Bora reached over, setting her hand over his. “It’s not your fault, or mine. Sometimes these things just don’t work. You are a lovely man, and your daughter sounds like an angel. Someone will be very lucky to finally call you theirs.”

“You too, Bora.” Namjoon squeezed her hand gently. “Yoongi was right, you are amazing. I would like to be friends, if you want.”

She beamed. “I’d enjoy that. So see, the night was not lost. We’ve made new friends.”

Namjoon nodded, smiling softly. “You are right.” He reached up, calling for the check. “Do you have a way home? We can share a car.”

“No, I have my roommate coming to pick me up in a while. I had a feeling we may end things early.”

“Understandable.”

“Do you want a ride?”

“No, I’ll take a car. I need to stop and get cash for Jungkook anyways.”

Namjoon took the bill gratefully and handed over his card to the server.

When it was returned, Namjoon rose, helping Bora into her jacket and standing out with her until her friend came. She kissed his cheek. “Thank you for dinner.”

“Thank you for sharing it with me.” He smiled softly and waved, watching as the car drove off. He called a car for himself, leaning against a nearby light pole. As he waited, he found himself watching the video Jungkook had sent a few more times, his heart seeming to clench uncomfortably each time.

The man was unbearably beautiful. And so good with Mingi, Namjoon had never seen someone so naturally good with children. And Mingi’s adoration was clear – she was quite fond of Jungkook already. He would need to have Jungkook over more often. Not even as a sitter, perhaps for dinner one night. He wanted to get to know the boy more himself, if he was being honest.

Namjoon let his mind wander, and it drifted almost naturally to Jungkook. His body – his smile.

He wondered what the boy’s story was, where he was from, why he wanted to dance. What he did for fun… If he had a partner… Namjoon knew it was a dangerous line of thinking, but he couldn’t help it. He climbed into the car once it arrived, gazing out the window as they wove through the traffic toward his part of the city.

The house was quiet when Namjoon entered, and only the hallway light was on. He scowled, looking around. The remains of dinner in the trash, a receipt on the counter… Jungkook’s bag unzipped on the couch, a few books sticking out. Namjoon resisted the urge to snoop. He walked quietly down the hall, peeking into Mingi’s room.

She was curled up in her bed, arms wrapped in a stranglehold around her little Pegasus as she slept. Jungkook was also in her room. He was sprawled out on the floor, using one of Mingi’s stuffed puppies as a pillow. A textbook and notebook were open to his right, a pencil rolled a few feet away. Chemistry, if Namjoon’s eyes served him correctly. One of Mingi’s storybooks was open to Jungkook’s left. His eyes were shut, plush lips parted as he snored softly.

Namjoon snuck in as quietly as he could, picking up the pencil and carefully shutting the text book. He scooped it up before reaching out and shaking Jungkook lightly.

Jungkook snorted and shifted, blinking tiredly. He looked up and his eyes widened. He scrambled to his feet, bowing low.

“Sorry—” He whispered.

“Don’t worry about it,” Namjoon responded in a quiet voice He beckoned Jungkook out of the room and shut Mingi’s door.

“What time did she go down?” Namjoon asked, handing Jungkook’s school supplies back to him as they walked back into the living room.

“A little before I sent you that video. We were busy so I didn’t have a chance to send it before.”

Namjoon nodded. He flipped on the living room light and leaned on the wall, watching Jungkook pack up his backpack.

“You are great with her. Do you have siblings?”

“An older brother, none younger. I’ve just always really liked kids. I help out at the local dance studio when I can, working with five to seven year olds.”

“The one a few blocks away from the college?”

Jungkook nodded. “That’s the one Hoseok told me to enroll Mingi in.”

“Honestly, if I’m not speaking out of turn, the girl has a lot of natural talent. You’d do well to let her nurture it.”

“I’ve thought of it. I’m just…” Namjoon chuckled, “Over protective.”

Jungkook nodded, He sat down on the couch. “Can I ask a personal question?”

“Sure.” Namjoon sat down with him.

“Hobi-hyung told me you were young, and a single father. But you aren’t much older than me. Mingi is school age. What… Happened?”

Namjoon smiled. “When I was a sophomore in college, I hooked up with a kind freshman. She was pre-law, on a scholarship, had a bright future. I was a jackass rich kid who thought I owned the world. We had sex, and the condom broke.” He shrugged. “I knew it was my responsibility too. Having a baby and raising it would have ruined her life. She didn’t want that. So I took responsibility. I offered to help her through the pregnancy, and then when the child was born I’d take full custody.”

“So she’s not in the picture at all?”

“We’re still friends, and she does know Mingi. But she isn’t a mother. Some people just aren’t meant to be parents, and she is one of them, we both know it. I, on the other hand… Have always wanted to be a dad. I just got my wish a few years sooner than planned.”

“So you’re… Only what, Hobi-hyung’s age?”

Namjoon nodded. “We’re the same year, yeah. A few years older than you.”

“You’re so mature and put together.” Jungkook looked around. “I’d kill to be this set up when I’m in my early twenties.”

“It can happen. Just takes dedication.”

“So how did your date go?” Jungkook suddenly asked. He stretched out and lifted his arms, baring his tight stomach for a moment. Not that Namjoon was looking…

“Wh—” Namjoon looked back up to Jungkook’s face. “Oh, uh, yeah, it didn’t go well. She was nice, but…”

“Not compatible.”

“Right.”

Jungkook nodded. “That’s too bad,” he said softly, looking down at his lap.

“Why?” “Well… If it didn’t work out, there’s no more need for a babysitter. I was kinda hoping to come over more to watch Mingi and see… You.”

Jungkook met Namjoon’s gaze, smiling a little. “She must have been blind. You’re a stunning man.”

Namjoon chuckled. “Thank you for the praise, Jungkook. But it was just our personalities, really.”

“Well still. She’s missing out.”

“Just because I don’t have another date with her doesn’t mean I won’t need a sitter. Especially one as good with Mingi and as kind… Maybe I’ll find more time to go out.”

“Or you could stay in,” Jungkook offered. “And just have me over… To hang out.”

Namjoon remained silent. He met Jungkook’s gaze, a little surprised to see his expression had darkened to something far more… Primal. Namjoon’s stomach knotted.

“Jungkook—"

“I like you. I did the second you opened that door. You’re handsome and mature and a good parent. You seem like the kind of man that knows what he wants… And goes and gets it.”

The spit in Namjoon’s mouth seemed to dry up all at once. “I—I suppose that’s been said.”

“So why are you hesitating?”

Namjoon tilted his head a little, unsure what Jungkook was implying.

“It’s okay, you know,” Jungkook said softly.

“What is?”

Jungkook smirked. He leaned a little closer to Namjoon. “That you wanna fuck the babysitter.”

Namjoon yelped, jumping to his feet, his eyes widening. “What?!”

Jungkook covered his mouth with his hand, trying to stifle his laughter to no avail. He looked pointedly at Namjoon’s crotch, not moving from the couch.

Namjoon scowled and looked down. Much to his surprise, he realized his slacks, which fit far too tightly anyways, were beginning to tent with the half-erection he’d gotten. Half hard just from sitting next to a handsome man, what was he, a teenager? Namjoon covered his crotch quickly. “That’s not— I mean, I’m not a pervert, I—“

“You what?” Jungkook pressed. “Weren’t picturing me naked?”

Namjoon’s silence seemed to give Jungkook the answer he needed. He rose, stepping toward Namjoon. “It’s a normal fantasy, I suppose. A single parent... A young, handsome man. A big empty bed...” He pushed Namjoon’s hands away from his crotch and cupped the bulge, a smirk on his pretty mouth.

Namjoon’s eyes rolled back. He could feel his cock hardening further, and Jungkook gave a tentative stroke, sending sparks up his spine.

“It’s big,” he cooed. “I’ll say it again, Mr.Kim...” He moved closer, pressing his lips against Namjoon’s neck before moving to his ear. “Do you wanna fuck your babysitter?”

Namjoon gave a strained groan before nodding quickly.

“I want you too, sir,” Jungkook responded. Namjoon’s cock twitched in Jungkook’s hand. The way he loved being called that.

“I don’t get many men to fuck me good and hard... They make me top, usually. Do you want to fuck my ass? Bend me over and make sure I remember you tomorrow?”

“Jungkook—“

“Take me to bed, Mr. Kim.”

“Call me Namjoon, please—“

“I will... But wouldn’t you prefer sir?”

Namjoon moaned brokenly. He grabbed Jungkook’s hair and yanked his head back, pressing their lips together hard. Jungkook sighed contentedly against Namjoon’s mouth. He twisted his hips forward, and Namjoon could feel Jungkook’s cock growing hard in his jeans. Namjoon broke the kiss quickly and dragged him toward the bedroom, kicking the door shut before shoving him onto his back onto the bed.

Jungkook giggled, biting his bottom lip. He looked up at Namjoon, reaching down to undo his jeans. Namjoon crawled over him, catching his mouth in another kiss. He pushed Jungkook’s hands out of the way and undid the zipper himself, reaching in to stroke Jungkook’s cock through his boxers.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” Jungkook muttered against his mouth.

“Do you want it?” Namjoon worried, pressing kisses over his cheek and jaw.

“I do. I wanted to kiss you from the moment I met you,” Jungkook admitted. He slid his hands over Namjoon’s shoulders and then around, undoing the buttons on his shirt. “You looked so nice dressed up. You smelled so good. I was a bit jealous.”

Namjoon lifted his head, meeting Jungkook’s gaze. “Jealous?”

“Mhm… That I was the babysitter… And you were going out with someone else.” He pushed his shirt open and leaned up, kissing Namjoon’s bare chest. He bit down lightly on Namjoon’s nipple. The surprise pleasure-pain of it twisted Namjoon’s stomach into little knots, his balls drawing up as his cock twitched.

Jungkook laid back and bucked his hips, his eyelids fluttering shut when his bulge rubbed over Namjoon’s thigh.

“Get these clothes off before I rip them off,” Namjoon huffed. He rose and stripped out of his own clothing quickly, his hands shaking as he fought with his belt. Jungkook stripped far more slowly, taking his time to peel his clothing off. Namjoon knew it was on purpose – and it was working – each inch of skin the handsome man revealed had his brain that much closer to short circuiting.

When Jungkook was naked, he got up from the bed and then sank to his knees in front of Namjoon, reaching up to pull his boxers down. Namjoon’s vision blurred a little as he struggled to keep his eyes open. Jungkook’s breath was hot against the sensitive skin of his shaft. He grinned up at him.

“Want me to suck your cock, sir?” He purred. Namjoon may have forgotten how to swallow.

His throat clicked and he nodded, not trusting his voice.

Jungkook laughed a little. He stroked Namjoon gently a few times before wrapping his lips around his tip. His mouth was warm and soft. It sent all sorts of tingles through Namjoon’s body.

“Oh, Jungkook…” He sighed softly, letting his hand rest lightly on Jungkook’s head. His hair was silky smooth, and Namjoon couldn’t resist running his fingers through it. Jungkook rolled his eyes up, meeting Namjoon’s gaze as he moved forward, taking more of his cock into his mouth. He sucked almost cautiously, huffing a quiet laughing sound through his nose when Namjoon shivered. Another suck, a little harder, and his tongue slid flatly over the underside of the tip.

“Your mouth,” Namjoon groaned, reaching back to steady himself with the nightstand.

Jungkook pulled off with a pop.

“Maybe you should sit.”

“Maybe I should just fuck you,” Namjoon suggested instead, pulling Jungkook up and kissing him deeply. He reached around, squeezing his ass before spreading it, and letting his finger slide over Jungkook’s tight hole.

Jungkook giggled against his mouth, breaking the kiss and blinking at him with almost an innocence.

“You want to fuck me bad, huh?” He purred, sliding his hands over Namjoon’s chest. Namjoon nodded. Jungkook crawled onto the bed. “Do you have lube? I can give you a show...” He spread his legs open and slid his hands down his inner thighs.

“You know... Next time.”

Namjoon grabbed Jungkook’s ankles and twisted his legs over one another. Jungkook got the picture and flipped onto his belly. Namjoon lifted his hips as he crawled onto the bed, spreading his ass open.

Jungkook was shaved smooth and clean around his hole, the skin looking delectably soft.

Namjoon thumbed his hole. “God, you’re gonna be so tight on my dick...”

“I like it tight,” Jungkook panted against the pillow. “I like the stretch.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Namjoon held his ass open and spat. He leaned down, catching the spit with his tongue and lapping wetly over Jungkook’s hole. He tasted like fresh soap and something distinctly him. Namjoon could get addicted.

He immediately began to work his tongue against the tight rim, pausing to lick wet stripes over his ass and balls, massaging his rim with his fingers until it finally began to relax. He picked up a rhythm and pattern with his tongue and fingers, starting to slip more easily into Jungkook’s hole. Namjoon pulled back, scissoring his fingers. Jungkook was gripping the pillow moaning and gasping into it. His hips were raised just enough for the tip of his cock to bump the bed when he moved. A dark streak of precome told Namjoon his sweet new bed mate was trying desperately to hump the bed.

Endearing, really. Namjoon lifted Jungkook’s hips higher, removing the stimulation against his ruddy, hard cock tip.

Jungkook whimpered, looking back. His cheeks were pink, sweat dotting his forehead and plastering a few strands of hair down.

“Please—“

Namjoon reached between his legs, giving his cock a few firm tugs. As he did, he drove his tongue back up Jungkook’s ass, smirking as the inner muscle reluctantly gave way.

Jungkook grunted into the pillow, jerking forward.

“Please!” He sobbed, his voice muffled. Perfect.

Namjoon rose and laid over Jungkook, letting his cock nestle between Jungkook’s perky ass cheeks. He kissed over his shoulder as he reached out for the lube, tucked into his top drawer.

“I bet I could make you squirt from eating you out,” he whispered. Maybe I should have you ride my face. Come all over yourself with just my tongue up your tight little ass.”

Jungkook sobbed brokenly.

“No, please—“ He gasped. “Need your cock, sir, please.”

“I know you do, Jungkookie. Just relax. I’ll give it to you.”

Namjoon kissed his cheek and rose back on his knees. He added lube to Jungkook’s hole, and then his own cock. He lined his tip up, taking a moment to appreciate the scene. His babysitter - a young man he’d just met... So fucking handsome. So fucking eager to take his dick. He was definitely making the most of this.

Jungkook screamed into the pillow when Namjoon slid his cock in, stretching him open. He was impossibly tight, even with preparation. Jungkook reached back, holding his ass open. Namjoon took advantage, working more of his cock in. He could see the stretch of Jungkook’s rim, and the way his fingers bit into his plump ass cheeks. His cock was girthy all the way down as he pushed it into Jungkook, rock solid and throbbing against Jungkook’s sensitive rim.

“That’s it,” Jungkook gasped, turning his head so he could be heard. “Fuck my ass, sir. Pound the babysitter’s tight little hole—“ He cried out when Namjoon slammed in, burying himself to the hilt. He took a moment to let Jungkook relax around him - or maybe a moment to relax his own body, Namjoon wasn’t sure, before beginning to fuck into him.

Jungkook rose to his knees, wrapping his arms back around Namjoon’s shoulders as he moaned. His hard cock bounced with each thrust, dribbling precome onto the sheets.

“Fuck me,” he whined softly in Namjoon’s ear. “Wreck my tight little hole. I know you need it, you’re so hard in me. Oh—“ He let his head fall back when Namjoon’s teeth found purchase on his shoulder, a firm bite.

“Gonna mark me up?” He purred into Namjoon’s ear. “I came here for a simple job, and you’re violating my body in every way.”

Namjoon’s cock throbbed in his ass, and Jungkook smirked against his jaw. “You like that. You gonna come in me too? Fill me up? I bet there’s a lot - You’re so pent up, sir.”

Jungkook moaned in his ear. Namjoon’s speed increased. “Yes—“ he whined. “Fuck me and fill me up, send me home all full of you, please—“ he sobbed brokenly. Namjoon pulled out suddenly, and Jungkook’s hole gaped, flexing around nothing.

He cried out when Namjoon flipped him onto his back. Their gazes met for a moment and Namjoon smirked. He put Jungkook’s legs over his shoulders and lifted his hips, pulling his ass open.

Namjoon spat directly onto the tiny gape, watching as it dribbled into Jungkook’s ass. Jungkook whined softly. “Please—“

Namjoon obliged, lining his cock up and pushing back in. He laid over Jungkook, folding him up as he began to fuck him once more.

The new angle felt more intense, and the eye contact Namjoon now held seemed so much more intimate. Jungkook’s cheeks were a delightful pink, and growing redder. He moaned sweetly, reaching up to hold onto Namjoon’s shoulders.

“So quiet now,” Namjoon teased, his strokes long and deep, making Jungkook’s toes curl against his thighs as his cock slid over his prostate again and again. “Where’s that dirty mouth?”

“D— Do you like it when I talk dirty?” Jungkook panted.

Namjoon leaned down, kissing over his ear. “You were driving me wild, Jungkook,” he growled. “Do you still want my load, baby? Want me to send you home with an ass full of my come?”

Jungkook moaned, his fingers biting into Namjoon’s shoulders.

“Yes! Yes, please, sir— Give it to me—“ Jungkook’s eyes rolled back. “I’m so close—“

“Come then. Come from me wrecking your pretty little hole,” Namjoon demanded. He shifted, picking up speed and aggression with each thrust.

Jungkook clawed streaks down Namjoon’s back, slamming his head back into the pillow. The pleasure pain of it was nearly too much, but Namjoon struggled to hold on. Jungkook’s cock began to spurt onto his stomach, ass clenching around Namjoon’s cock as he came, choking out Namjoon’s name.

“That’s it.” Namjoon’s voice was smoky and thick, doing his best to drag Jungkook’s orgasm out. “Squeeze my cock, baby. Lemme know how good you’re squirting for me.” He groaned softly. “Such a tight little butt— Fuck— I’m not pulling out—“ he warned.

“Don’t!” Jungkook pleaded. He reached down, grabbing Namjoon’s hips. “Come deep— Oh fuck please, come up my ass, Namjoon, please— Deeper— Oh God!”

Namjoon swore softly. He buried himself to the hilt, and began to thrust shallowly as his body lit up, sparks of pleasure igniting his nerves. His cock began to jerk as he fucked into Jungkook’s relaxing body. Each twitch was hard and rhythmic as he came, spilling deep inside Jungkook. Jungkook began to clench and relax his rim, trying to milk as much from Namjoon’s cock as he could, even as Namjoon began to soften inside him.

Jungkook let his legs fall open, reaching up to wipe sweat from his brow. He smiled sleepily. “Wow.”

“Wow is right,” Namjoon mumbled. He pulled out slowly, flopping onto the bed beside Jungkook. “You okay?”

“Mhm… Relaxed.”

Namjoon grabbed a tissue, carefully wiping Jungkook’s stomach, and then sitting up to clean the lube and mess left behind from their sex.

Jungkook smiled and nodded his thanks before sighing far more heavily. He opened his eyes, looking up at the ceiling.

“What’s wrong?” Namjoon worried, lying next to him once more.

“I should go home.”

“Oh…” Namjoon hesitated. “Or, I mean… It’s late. You could just stay the night.”

Jungkook looked over, his brows furrowed and mouth in a soft pout. “You… Would want me to?”

“Well, I’m not kicking you out after we just made love. If you don’t wanna go…”

“What about Mingi?”

“Well, if she asks, where else would I have you sleep? You’re too big for the couch comfortably. And you couldn’t very well sleep in her room. And I wouldn’t want you driving late at night…”

Jungkook smiled softly.

“Aw, Mr. Kim… Sounds like you’re almost fond of me. This wasn’t just sex?”

Namjoon’s smile wavered. Jungkook – though teasing – did bring up a good point. Jungkook seemed to notice his shift, because he moved just enough to kiss Namjoon hard.

“If it was, I’m okay with that. But if it wasn’t… I think I’d be okay with that too,” he said softly. Instead of letting Namjoon answer, he kissed him once more, cupping his cheek.

Namjoon reached up, holding his wrist. He pulled away, pressing their foreheads together.

“I didn’t give much thought about it, honestly. You are so young, have a whole bright future. I’m already established… I have a kid. I’m not an easy person to have a relationship with, especially not someone in your shoes.”

“Maybe not. But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try.” Jungkook laid back down. “But let’s not talk about it tonight. We had amazing sex. I’m all loose and relaxed, and I am tired. Why don’t we get some sleep, and we can talk about it tomorrow, when we’re both fully rested and more aware.”

Namjoon nodded. “That sounds like a good idea.” He kicked the blankets down and pulled them over them. Jungkook snuggled up to him, resting his head on his shoulder and slinging one arm across Namjoon’s middle. His body was warm and soft. It was so… Comforting, if Namjoon was being honest. He could get quite used to something like this, he thought as he wiggled a little closer to Jungkook. If Jungkook did want to date him… He could definitely get used to this.

Namjoon could faintly hear the television. It sounded like a children’s program. Mingi was probably up. He snuggled deeper under his blankets, Jungkook’s warm body still wrapped around him. The morning sunlight was streaming through his window, lightening his eyelids. Heaving a weak sigh, he opened his eyes, taking a moment to adjust to the light before looking over at Jungkook. He was just as beautiful in the daylight. His hair mussed from the pillow, soft lips parted as he slept, chest rising slow and steady. Namjoon’s heart clenched uncomfortably. He wanted Jungkook. As far more than a babysitter, or fuckbuddy, or friend. He truly wanted him. They’d need to talk today.

Namjoon frowned at the door, hearing what sounded like Mingi having a conversation with someone. He wasn’t expecting anyone today… And Mingi knew not to open the door for strangers. Before Namjoon could stand, his bedroom door creaked open.

Namjoon sat up a little, expecting his daughter. Instead, Yoongi stood in the doorway, a cup holder of coffee gripped in his hands. Hoseok stood behind him, a cardboard box. Namjoon’s eyes widened. He saw Yoongi and Hoseok both move their gaze from him, to Jungkook, and back to him.

“What the fuck,” Hoseok strained.

Jungkook sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes. “What’s – Oh…” He smiled sheepishly when he realized the company in the bedroom. “Morning, Hyung...”

Namjoon cleared his throat. “What brings you here this morning?”

“Bora...” Yoongi drifted off. “She told me you two didn’t work out. We came to... Can we speak to you outside for a second, Namjoon?”

It was Namjoon’s turn to smile sheepishly. “Sure. Wait for me? We need, ah...” he motioned to their pants and shirts strewn on the floor.

Hoseok and Yoongi backed out, shutting the door.

Jungkook grimaced. “I feel like I’m about to get scolded by a parent.”

“Same,” Namjoon admitted. He rose, pulling on a pair of sweats and a shirt. “Do you wanna wear yesterday’s clothes? Something of mine might fit you...”

“I should wear yesterday’s.”

Namjoon nodded. He watched Jungkook rise, unable to hide the small smile that curved his mouth up.

“You’re so handsome.”

Jungkook grinned brightly, pulling on his clothes. “You’re just saying that.”

“Am not. Really, Jungkook... I like you.”

“I like you too, Namjoon.”

“We should talk. About that.”

Jungkook nodded. “I agree. After we talk to them,” he chuckled a little. He approached Namjoon, touching his upper arm. “Can I kiss you?”

“I’d like that.”

Jungkook closed the space between their mouths, giving Namjoon a chaste peck on the mouth. He pulled back, smiling.

Namjoon opened the door. Hoseok and Yoongi both rose from the couch.

“Jungkook, would you mind Mingi?” Hoseok asked. Jungkook nodded. He sat next to her, immediately drawing her bubbly attention.

Yoongi motioned with his head, and Namjoon followed the couple outside.

“What the fuck, Namjoon,” Hoseok said as soon as the door was shut.

“Why are you swearing at me?”

“I sent you a babysitter, not a fucking hooker.”

“Hey!” Namjoon snapped. “It wasn’t like that.”

“What about the date, Namjoon?”

Yoongi asked. “Why didn’t Bora work out? It wasn’t him...”

“No!” Namjoon shook his head. “Not at all. She’s great. I really enjoyed her company. But she’s not... For me. It has nothing to do with Jungkook.”

“I find that hard to believe since he was naked in your damn bed this morning,” Hoseok argued, crossing his arms.

“He’s not a child, Hobi,” Namjoon argued. “You act like I forced him.”

“You were his employer last night, Namjoon,” Yoongi said.

“He made the first move! I reciprocated! I like him, hyung.”

“He’s one of my best students.”

“And if he were to date another student? Would you throw a fit?” Namjoon sighed, letting his arms fall. “I really do like him. The sex was great but... He is so good with Mingi. She adores him. And I find him so easy to talk to. I want to try with him.”

“Hobi...” Yoongi said softly. He glanced over at Hoseok.

“He made the first move?” Hoseok clarified. Namjoon nodded, smiling a little.

“He’s quite brazen. I couldn’t say no.”

“Little brat’s gonna be cleaning the dance studio for a week,” Hoseok muttered without much venom.

Namjoon grinned at that. “Don’t be too hard on him; he’ll probably be sore for a few days.”

Hoseok blinked, then blinked again, before realization dawned on him. He made a noise that was a cross between a groan and a scream, and gave a dramatic full body shudder.

“That is my student, Kim Namjoon.”

“And hopefully my boyfriend... if I play my cards right.”

“I do hope it works out,” Yoongi said. “For what it’s worth. You two did look pretty cute together.”

“You should see him with Mingi, hyung. They’re already two peas in a pod.”

“I saw the video he sent Hoseok. They do seem to get along great.”

Namjoon’s smile grew almost painfully wide. “That made my whole night.”

“Come on, we should get in. We got you coffee, but didn’t expect a fourth...”

“I’m sure we’ll make due.”

Namjoon entered, smiling softly. Jungkook was folded up on the floor, coloring with Mingi in one of her books. She was babbling on about something, and Jungkook continued to nod and respond appropriately.

“Mingi, come get food,” Yoongi called.

She bounced up, grabbing Jungkook’s hand and tugging him toward the kitchen. Jungkook let himself be pulled, backtracking to Namjoon as Yoongi served Mingi.

“Get in too much trouble?” He worried.

“No. But even if I had... It’d be worth it,” Namjoon confessed. He reached up, brushing a lock of hair from Jungkook’s forehead. “What’re you doing tonight?”

“Just studying.”

“Have enough free time to slip in a dinner date?”

Jungkook grinned. He stepped a little closer to Namjoon, setting his hands on his hips. “I think I could pull myself away for a few hours.” He pressed a kiss to Namjoon’s mouth. Namjoon grinned against his mouth, chuckling a little. He pulled back still smiling.

“You know what this means?” He walked to the table, grabbing the coffee Yoongi held out for him.

“What?” Jungkook asked.

“I’ll need to find a new babysitter.”

#thebtswritersclub #namkook #namjoon x jungkook #jungkook x namjoon #fluff #smut #jungkook fanfic #namjoon fanfic #bts jungkook fanfiction #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #namjoon smut #kim namjoon smut #jungkook x rm #rm x jungkook #mywriting #dilf namjoon

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thisissirius · 3 years ago

Note

8+18 for the prompt set

Amnesia + Reunion

that someone could be (important) [ao3] eddie/buck, amnesia

The house is empty.

Sending Chris to Hen's for the weekend was a snap decision, but Eddie feels like he's falling apart hour by hour. There's stuff to clean in the kitchen, laundry that needs doing, and things scattered around the living room that need picking up.

"I'll tidy up when we get back," Buck says, grinning and shoving at Eddie's shoulder. He brushes a kiss against Eddie's temple and then darts for the driver side of the truck.

"Idiot," Eddie says fondly, tossing Buck the keys. "I'm gonna chane your nickname to when we get back."

Buck snorts, sticking out his tongue as Eddie climbs in the truck. "Not Sexy anymore?"

Eddie laughs, slamming the door. "I've never called you that in my life."

"Pity," Buck says with a ridiculous grin.

Eddie's hands clench into fists and he moves through the house, the silence pounding around him. Chris' door is open and Eddie swallows as he looks inside. It's a little messy, clothes in the hamper, bedsheets rumpled, and a book half open on the bookcase. It's one he's reading with Buck and when Eddie tries to pick it up, Chris wordlessly shakes his head.

"Fuck," Eddie says, closing Chris' door and pressing his head against it.

It's worse when he moves into the bedroom; it looks better than it ever has. Where Eddie's kept it mostly barren and cold, Buck's filled it with plants, pictures, and knick knacks from his own apartment.

"Isn't that better?"

"I just sleep in here."

"Just sleep?"

Eddie chokes on his next breath and climbs onto the bed, mindful of his arm, srunching up the sheets beneath his right hand, and sucking in a lungful of air. The sheets and pillows no longer smell like Buck, and Eddie wants to throw up. Everything's fading. Buck's fading.

"We're actually gonna be early," Buck says, eyes on the road. They're coming up a crossing and he eyes the lights.

Eddie pulls out his phone, taps a message out to Bobby to let them know they might be there before Chim and Maddie.

Seems fake is the message he gets back.

He opens his mouth to tell Buck that Bobby needs to stop spending so much time around May and Harry when Buck curses under his breath and the truck skids and there's—

There's a knock at the door.

Eddie doesn't want to answer it, doesn't want to get off the bed. He turns his head into the pillows, closing his eyes and swallowing thickly.

The knocks continue.

It could be about Buck, a voice in the back of his head says.

Forcing himself up off the bed, Eddie cradles his arm and moves into the hall, the knocks continuing. Eddie's phone is on the kitchen counter but he ignores it, heading for the door and unlocking it.

Maddie is on the doorstep, giving him a tentative smile, but Eddie doesn't answer it. "Is Chris home?"

"No," Eddie says, leaving her in the doorway and heading back into the living room. He grabs his phone on the way, slipping it into his pocket.

"Eddie," Maddie starts, following him. "I know you don't want to see me—"

"I don't want to see anyone," Eddie says. He sits on the edge of the couch and rubs his thigh.

Maddie nods, hovering awkwardly in the doorway. Eddie wonders whether she's left Chim in charge of Jee, and who's watching Buck. He shrugs it off; it's not his problem. "I'm sorry—"

"Don't," Eddie snaps. "You made it more than clear I should stay away."

"That's not," Maddie starts. Her face falls and she wrings her hands. "It was upsetting him and I just wanted—"

"Upsetting him?" Eddie pushes to his feet. "I'm really fucking sorry that my boyfriend forgetting me upset him!"

Maddie's eyes widen and she ducks her head, swipes a hand over her face. "I know I did the wrong thing, and I'm sorry."

The anger that Eddie's been struggling to keep at bay wants to burst out, so he clenches his hand into a fist, looks at the clock on the wall. He hopes Maddie leaves soon. He doesn't want to see anyone and she knows that, so why—

"I just wanted what was best for him," Maddie says quietly. "I didn't know what to do."

Closing his eyes, Eddie bites at the inside of his cheek.

Eddie appreciates Hen's hand on his elbow as they walk towards Buck's hospital room. "You're sure he's okay?"

"He woke up," Hen said, squeezing his arm. "That's the best news we could have."

Through the glass, Eddie can see Buck smiling gently at Maddie. She's got her fingers curled around his wrist and Eddie's heart picks up a few beats. He's been desperate to see him, to know that Buck's really okay. He doesn't remember the crash, doesn't remember the rescue, barely remembers the first time he woke up.

Bobby says his first word was Buck, and that's all Eddie needs to remember.

"Buck," he says, as Hen pushes open the door.

Maddie sucks in a breath and Eddie frowns, but Buck's looking up, grinning. "Hen!"

"Hi, Buck," Hen says, looking relieved. "I'm really glad to see you're awake."

"It's good to be awake," Buck says, and his eyes dart to Eddie. When he frowns, something stutters in Eddie's chest. "Shit man, are you okay?"

Eddie nods, blows out a breath. "Of course you ask about me."

Maddie says, "Eddie," but Buck's raising an eyebrow.

"Do I know you?"

Eddie presses a fist to his eye and chokes back a sob.

"Very funny," Eddie says, but dread settles cold in his stomach. The way Buck's looking at him, no recognition. Fuck. Fuck. Maddie looks distressed, but Eddie doesn't care. How could she possibly know? Buck doesn't say anything and Eddie chokes out, "you don't know me?"

"Should I?"

Fear forces the, "I hope you'd remember your boyfriend," out before he can stop it.

Buck's face closes down quickly, staring at Maddie in surprise. "Is this true?"

"Buck," Maddie starts.

"Please take me back to my room," Eddie says.

"I don't remember," Buck says, panicked, and Eddie hates how high his voice is, how scared he is. "I don't remember."

"I shouldn't have stopped you seeing him," Maddie says. "Everyone's told me so many times, but he wouldn't talk to anyone. I was afraid he was going to hurt himself."

Later, Eddie supposes he'll forgive her. For now, he doesn't care. "Please go away."

"Eddie—"

"Maddie," he says, desperation clawing at his tone. "I've lost my boyfriend. Please don't expect me to forgive you right now."

Maddie looks sad, guilty, and Eddie doesn't blame her, not really. She's protecting her little brother, something he's always admired in her. Buck's here because of her and he knows, later, when things aren't so raw, he'll know she did the right thing.

Later.

Eddie doesn't watch her leave. He pulls on his phone.

"Wait," Maddie says, and Eddie frowns, because he made it clear—

There's the sound of someone banging open the door and Eddie pushes to his feet, wanting to know what the hell is going on, when someone skids into the living room.

"Eddie."

Buck. "Buck," he whispers, afraid to hope.

The sheer devastation on Buck's face is heartbreaking and he sobs out, "I'm so sorry, Eddie, I'm sorry."

"Buck," he says again, stumbling forward, and Buck meets him halfway. He's mindful of Eddie's broken arm, cradles the back of his head. Eddie breaks; he's crying, turning his face into Buck's neck and sobs.

"Ssh," Buck whispers, nose to Eddie's temple. "I've got you, Eds. I'm here."

Eddie's fingers curl into Buck's shirt. "I thought," he gasps out, struggles to breathe.

"Easy. Breathe," Buck says, tightening his grip. "I know. I'm here. I remember."

"Fuck," Eddie says. When he calms down, he pulls back, lifting his hand to Buck's face. "You're here."

Buck's hand comes up to his, holds it tightly. "I am."

When Eddie looks, Maddie's gone and he feels the flash of guilt, but it fades quickly. "I didn't know—"

Eddie can't finish, and Buck understands. He nods, leans in to kiss Eddie and oh, it's the best kiss they've ever had. He presses forward, eyes slipping closed.

"I missed you," he whispers.

"I missed you too," Buck says. "I might not have remembered, but I still felt it. The hole where you should be."

It's a ridiculous sentiment, one that Eddie understands completely. "Chris is gonna be ecstatic." Buck looks distressed, but Eddie shakes his head at whatever he tries to say. "You did nothing wrong."

Buck shrugs. "Maybe. Still feels like it."

"He won't know Chris," Eddie says. "Carla, how do I tell Chris that Buck doesn't remember him?"

"Carefully," Carla says, taking his hand. "We'll do it together. But you know that boy will do everything he can to fight."

Eddie wants to yell; how can anyone fight amnesia? He holds his tongue, thinks of Chris. He doesn't know what he's going to do.

"Hey," Buck says gently, fingers on Eddie's chin. "I'm here, okay? It's going to be okay."

"Yeah," Eddie says. Maybe it will, maybe it won't. Either way, he's got Buck back and he remembers. "We should call Hen."

"We will," Buck says. He leans in for another kiss. "I just need a minute, alright?"

Eddie nods, understands completely. He's not sure he can let go of Buck right now, even if Buck wants him to. "I love you."

A small intake of breath, but the smile on Buck's face is blinding. "I love you, too. So much." Eddie smiles into the next kiss, relishes the slide of Buck's hand to the back of his neck, squeezing gently. Buck pulls back, eyes looking over Eddie's shoulder. "Did you not even clean?"

"Fuck off," Eddie says without heat. "You weren't here."

"Just a maid," Buck says, pretending to be angry.

"No." Eddie rubs his thumb over Buck's cheek, eyes wet with tears he can't hold back. "Not just a maid."

Buck's smile, the recognition in his eyes, is worth more to Eddie than he can put into words.

#buddie #buddie fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 fic #911 au #whoops #so yeah

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persephone-plasmids · 3 years ago

Text

Debriefing

Deacon and Sole fanfic.

[AO3]

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

Debriefing

Deacon and Sole walked in complete silence through the abandoned Nuka-World park. Not because they were worried they’d attract the attention of ferals, but because neither of them seemed to be mature enough to address the incredible kiss they’d both just shared. Of course, nearly having Sole kill him when she got poisoned by HalluciGen and meeting a super dramatic Ghoul named Oswald had also distracted them. But Deacon was fairly certain the kiss was the real reason for the silent treatment he was currently getting.

I shouldn’t have done it, Deacon thought to himself. Although even as he thought this, his mind replayed the sensation of Sole’s lips against his and he felt his cheeks flush.

Sole was walking ever-so-slightly ahead of him, her hips swaying back and forth in a way that Deacon tried to ignore.

Right. He needed to fix this. To get things back to normal.

“Hey Charmer, did I ever tell you about the time I went undercover as Magnolia for an entire week?”

Sole slowed her pace a bit so that Deacon could fall in step beside her. “Go on,” she said, raising an eyebrow with an amused look in her eye.

“I did the whole shebang. Donned the red dress, wore a black wig, sang all the songs.”

“Flirted with the patrons?” She asked.

“That was my favorite part,” Deacon said. “You wouldn't believe how many free drinks I got that week. It’s amazing what people will do for a pretty face.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Sole’s lips, but the action just brought Deacon’s attention right back to the very area he was trying to forget.

He cleared his throat nervously before continuing. “I'll tell you, though. I’m not a fan of shaving my legs. I could never quite get that little area behind my knee.”

At this, Sole snorted, trying to suppress her laugh and failing miserably. “How do you even come up with these ridiculous lies?”

She still wasn’t looking at him, but he preferred it that way. If she wasn’t looking at him, then they weren’t in danger of suddenly kissing each other.

“Who says that’s a lie?” Deacon asked, his voice easily slipping back into its smooth unconcerned cadence.

“Literally anyone who’s ever met you,” she said, looking down at the ground as they walked. “I can read you most of the time. But I’m finding it harder and harder these days.”

“Oh?” Deacon asked.

He wanted to know what she’d meant by that, but he never did get his answer. Instead, he heard the familiar clomp, clomp, clomp of power armor approaching them. Deacon rolled his eyes at the Paladin’s lack of subtlety and Sole moved a bit further away from Deacon.

The motion would have been almost imperceptible to anyone but him. But it still gave him complicated feelings. Was he hurt that she didn’t want to be seen being this familiar with him? Or did it give him hope that she was feeling that same connection to him, even if she was trying to ignore it.

“Soldier,” Danse said, nodding to Sole before turning to Deacon. “Liar.”

“Ouch,” Deacon said, placing a hand over his heart and stumbling back a few paces dramatically. “Shots fired, Paladin. Right out the gate too.”

“Told you everyone knows you’re a liar,” Sole said under her breath, grinning as she looked at Danse.

MacCready appeared suddenly beside Danse, out of breath and wiping blood from his hands. “There’s a serious Bloodworm infestation here. I think we should get out of Dry Rock Gulch. It’s not worth the effort.”

“That’s just as well,” Sole said. “The Synth isn’t in Nuka-World. They’ve already made it out of The Commonwealth.”

“Is that so?” Danse asked. “Outstanding!”

“Bingo!” Deacon shouted.

Everyone stopped and turned to look at him in confusion.

“Danse said ‘outstanding’. That’s the last square I needed on my boy scout bingo card.”

No one said anything. Instead, Sole’s cheeks immediately flushed a dark shade of scarlet as her eyes grew as wide as saucers. She stared at Deacon in horror and had she not immediately looked away from him again, he would have thought there was a Deathclaw behind him.

Danse cleared his throat uncomfortably before Sole began loudly speaking. “So, I think we’re all done here. The Synth is safe and we’re all alive. Let’s head out.”

Sole’s voice sounded unnatural. And the way Danse turned away from Deacon with a stronger look of annoyance on his face than normal, told him that something was wrong.

As Sole and Danse began walking away, Mac sidled up beside Deacon and said in a low voice, “Not really your color, is it?” Before snickering and joining Sole and the tin can.

Deacon brought his hand up to his lips. When he pulled them away, he could see that they were stained with Sole’s red lipstick.

“Perfect,” he groaned.

--------

Things back at Railroad HQ had been normal when Sole and Deacon returned to report to Desdamona. Painfully normal. The kind of normal you got when you were trying too hard to make things seem normal. Sole was still avoiding eye contact with Deacon, but when she thought he wasn’t looking, he’d catch her staring.

Again, his sunglasses proved beneficial for more than just his Railroad missions.

“Thank you both for your continued efforts on behalf of The Railroad,” Desdemona said, after they’d given her the news concerning the Synth in Nuka-World. “Charmer, you’re getting much more efficient in your debriefings.”

“Charmer can debrief me any time,” Deacon said, giving her finger guns as Sole just shook her head in exasperation.

“Deacon, do I need to refresh your memory on the no fraternization rule?” Desdamona asked.

“Oh come on, that was funny,” Deacon insisted.

“Deacon?” Desdamona was still waiting for him to answer.

“No Des. I’ll do my best to shield your ears from my incredible wit. But just know you’ll be missing out.”

“I think I’ll survive,” Des said shortly. “You’re both dismissed.”

And with that, the imposing woman walked away.

“Sheesh, tough crowd,” Deacon said, pulling on the collar of his white shirt for effect as he smiled over at Sole.

“I mean… she is right though,” Sole said, looking down at her hands instead of at Deacon. “We probably shouldn’t joke about stuff like that.”

“Are you… we joke about that kind of stuff all the time,” Deacon said incredulously. “I mean… if it makes you uncomfortable of course I’ll stop. I just… thought that was sort of our thing.”

Deacon could feel his cheeks heating up as he desperately tried to save the situation. If Sole was uncomfortable with their joking, it was news to him. She was usually the one to start the innuendos. But he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable.

The kiss may have tarnished their friendship a bit, mostly because it made it impossible for Deacon to keep lying to himself about his feelings. But he didn’t want it to completely ruin what they already had.

“I just… don’t want people to talk,” Sole said simply, still looking down at her hands.

“Yeah, of course, Boss. Whatever you say,” Deacon answered, rubbing the back of his neck before trying to assume a nonchalant posture. “Just trying to keep things light. I’ll resort to the old failsafes instead. You know… the nuclear apocalypse… the hopelessness of our existence… Danse’s extensive grooming routine.”

Sole almost smiled at this last bit. He could tell from the way her jaw tensed. But instead of smiling she just nodded. “Thanks, Deeks.”

Without another word, Sole gave Deacon a curt smile, turned on her heel, and walked away, leaving him totally and utterly confused about where they stood.

Idiot, he thought. Did I seriously think I could kiss Sole without things getting weird? Do I really want to throw away my closest friendship just because I… what? Feel something for her? Big deal. I feel something for Fancy Lad Snack Cakes and I’m not making moves on them.

Deacon refrained from letting out the gigantic sigh that had settled in his chest, not wanting to draw attention to himself. Instead, he ducked into the escape tunnel and out the back door into the small underground room just beyond the main section of Railroad HQ.

Pulling out a cigarette, Deacon nearly jumped out of his skin when Sole lit a match beside him.

“Geez! Are you kidding me?” Deacon whisper-shouted at her, jumping back against the wall and hitting his head in the process.

He dropped his unlit cigarette to the ground and rubbed the back of his head where it had made contact with the bricks.

“I thought you were always aware of your surroundings.”

“And I thought you were a baby Deathclaw about to drag me off to mommy like a bleeding morbid trophy,” he said, still whisper-shouting. “Why are you back here, Sole?”

“I needed some alone time,” she said, her face slightly amused as she watched him come down from his scare. “And then you just followed right behind me.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Deacon said. “I didn’t even see you come back here. Trust me, I don’t go around looking for humiliation more than once a day.”

“Excuse me?” Sole asked, her eyes narrowing at his words.

Deacon swallowed, realizing he was being too honest again. He didn’t want her to know he was hurt. Hell, he didn’t even want her to know he had actual feelings for her.

“I mean… I have gone looking for humiliation in the past,” he began, trying to think up a lie funny enough to distract Sole from his honesty. “Like this one time--.”

“Deacon, stop,” Sole said, shaking her head. “Sorry, I just… I can’t do this.”

“Yep, no problem,” Deacon said automatically, without really knowing what she was talking about specifically.

Odds were, he probably didn’t want to know. He’d made a point of detaching himself from the people around him. It was a necessity in The Railroad. But it had also been crucial for his survival after Barbara. Sole broke down that resolve and made him feel out of control in a way that he both loved and hated.

Sole turned to leave but stopped herself and instead faced Deacon once more, looking at the ground with a deep sigh.

“I’m just going to say it, okay?” she began, now looking up to meet his eyes before frowning. “Geez, Deeks, will you please take those sunglasses off so I can actually see you?”

Panic.

He needed his sunglasses. Otherwise Sole might find out just what a terrible bluffer he actually was.

“You know what? Never mind. This might actually be easier if I can’t see you.”

Her words were doing nothing to comfort him and he was desperately trying to quell the mild panic attack that was rising in his chest. “Sole, if I’m dying, you really need to just rip off the bandaid and tell me.”

He grinned at her, but they both knew it was a facade to mask his panic.

“I appreciate you telling me about Barbara. That took a lot of trust to open up to me about her.”

Well this wasn’t looking good.

“And I felt instantly connected to you because of it. We… we both knew what it was like to experience loss.” Sole frowned but pushed through it. “And honestly, after everything with Nate, I didn’t think I’d ever… feel anything for someone again.”

Deacon had to stop this conversation. He’d made her uncomfortable. And he hated himself for that.

“You don’t need to say anything else, Boss. I got it loud and clear,” Deacon said.

But Sole wasn’t letting him off the hook that easily.

“I don’t think you do,” Sole said. “I get that you flirt. It’s what you do. And it was always fine with me but… I can’t keep putting myself out there just to find out that this whole thing is a big joke to you. I’m not like that. It… it hurts too much.”

Deacon’s heart twisted inside of him. Had he misunderstood this situation completely? There was no way. Because as much as he’d dreamed about Sole reciprocating his feelings, he never thought it would actually happen.

Deacon had been a bigot back in his youth. Someone had died. He’d been a violent man. Sure he’d changed, but there was no way someone as good as Sole would be able to look completely past that. She may say his past wasn’t important, but she was just being polite. That’s who Sole was.

There was no way she could ever truly forgive him. He knew that. And he didn’t think he’d deserve that kind of forgiveness even if she did offer it.

“I respect you too much to break up our team, because we really do work well together… I just need the flirting to stop,” Sole said, looking down at her hands again as she twisted them together. “I want… I want you, Deacon. And it’s fine that I can’t have you. Really. I can learn to live with that. I’m a big girl. But… I’m not good at differentiating your joking with what’s real. I never have been. You know that.”

Deacon was staring at Sole now with the most shocked expression he’d ever worn.

She was saying that she had feelings for him. Wasn’t she?

Of course, he could just ask her for clarification, but that went against every instinct inside of him that was screaming at him to make a joke.

He realized a bit too late that he had been staring at her in silence for quite a while. She looked up at him uncomfortably with a wince. “So… are we good?” she asked. “Even though… you know… I just told you I have a crush on you like some five-year-old on the playground?”

There it was. The confirmation.

Deacon’s mouth might have actually dropped open in shock. He wasn’t sure.

“Okay, well… this has been sufficiently awkward. But I said what I needed to say. So…” she gave him a soft awkward slug on the shoulder. “Good talk, Sport.”

She instantly shook her head in embarrassment at her own words.

“Yeah, I’m going to leave now,” she mumbled, ducking her head down and turning to walk away.

“Wait, hold up just a minute,” Deacon said, finally regaining control of his brain. At least partially.

Sole turned around slowly and reluctantly.

“I swear if you make fun of me for this, Deeks, I will fill your pillowcase with cayenne pepper while you sleep.”

“Whoa,” he said, raising his hands up in surrender. “That escalated way faster than it probably should have.”

Deacon reached down and hesitantly took Sole’s hand in his own.

“I just… are you actually saying you have feelings for me?” Deacon asked.

Sole’s cheeks flushed at his straightforward words. Deacon was never straightforward. Except for the time he’d told Sole about Barbara.

“Seriously, Deacon? You’re going to make me say it again?”

“You feel things for me?” Deacon repeated, trying to rephrase his question so that there was no confusion. He wasn’t doing a great job. “Not like the way Danse has feelings for his power armor, right?”

“I mean, I’ve seen the way he looks at his power armor. So, maybe,” Sole said, that ghost of a smile returning to her lips. “Seriously, can I go now? I don’t know that I’ve ever felt this humiliated. This is worse than the dream where I show up to school naked.”

Deacon’s eyes grew wide behind his sunglasses at this statement. “Okay, well I’d definitely like to hear more about that in a minute,” Deacon began. “But I just… I feel like I need to be absolutely certain. You, the perfect, beautiful, compassionate, smart, brave, sexy, savior of The Commonwealth, have romantic feelings towards a former-bigot, current-man-child, broken, immature, and hopelessly lost human?”

Realization seemed to dawn on Sole in that moment. At his words she could see the insecurity dripping off of him, cleverly disguised by jokes and a devil-may-care attitude.

He felt the shift between them. Felt the way she squeezed his hand with confidence now, knowing that his flirting wasn’t a joke. That his casual contact wasn’t all that casual.

“Well… the jury’s still out on whether or not you’re a human or a synth,” she whispered with a grin. “I still haven’t tried your recall code on you.”

With that, Sole pressed her lips to Deacon’s. He hadn’t kissed Sole many times, so he didn’t have much to compare it to, but this kiss definitely felt different. Her hesitation was gone. Her lips were confident as they moved over his, and he smiled at her touch.

“Can we go back to that whole, dream business you were talking about a second ago?” Deacon asked, but Sole instantly silenced him with another kiss, which he was just fine with.

Her hands roamed slowly up his chest, as if she were taking her time to enjoy the moment. Goosebumps erupted all over his skin at her touch.

As she gently bit his bottom lip, something he definitely hadn’t expected from her, he couldn’t stop himself from being too aware of their surroundings. He wanted to melt into the kiss. He wanted to thoroughly enjoy this moment. There weren’t any more questions between them. They both understood each other finally.

But they were also in Railroad HQ. Anti-fraternization Zone Number 1. They may have been in the escape tunnel, but agents regularly used it as an overflow for the headquarters.

“Hey,” Deacon said, pulling away from Sole regretfully. Confusion lined her features. “So… I want this. You have absolutely no idea how much,” he began. “But… we’re not really in the best place for… grown up bonding time.”

Sole smiled up at him. “Doesn’t that sort of make it more exciting?” she asked.

What? Where had this Sole come from?

Not waiting for his response, she kissed him again, harder this time. He tried to exercise restraint.

He failed.

Instead, he pushed Sole up against the wall, parting her lips with his tongue and pressing his body against hers. Every fiber of his being burned to be even closer to her, but even with this bold new Sole that stood before him, he knew she wasn’t that type. She’d want to take things somewhat slow. And he was fine with that.

Besides, after years of being completely touch-starved, any contact was like a revelation for Deacon.

His hands found her waist, softly kneading the smooth skin there as his mouth moved against hers. She made a little noise that encouraged him further, prompting him to trail his kisses down to her collarbone instead.

She grabbed his hair in a slightly painful manner, but he didn’t mind. Instead, he focused on the very important work he was doing on her neck while her hands pulled him more firmly against her.

“Deeks,” she said breathlessly, though he hardly heard her. His lips were too preoccupied with just how perfect her neck seemed to be. How had he not noticed before? “Dea-con,” she said again, still just as breathless.

This time he heard her. And he loved the way his name sounded when she was the one saying it. The way her breath hitched at the end of the first syllable when he’d nipped at her neck. That desperate quality to her voice.

“Mmm?” he mumbled, now slowly moving his lips back towards hers.

“You…” but her words were cut off by another kiss. “Said we should be careful here?” she finally managed, between kisses. “About Des?”

This was more like the reserved Sole he knew. But he was enjoying himself too much. He was finally kissing her. Really kissing her. Not just for fun. Not as part of a ruse for a mission. Not in some psychotic funhouse where he wasn’t sure if she really wanted to or if it was just some weird trick of the drugs in Kiddie Kingdom.

Being able to touch someone after so long was like an oasis in a desert. And she saw him. Really saw him. That was normally the last thing he wanted from someone. But it was all he wanted with Sole.

“Screw it,” Sole said between another kiss before she wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him harder against her body, shuddering as they crashed together.

“I already told you, I left a backup in the escape tunnel,” Tinker Tom said from somewhere near the room’s entrance. “Now if y’all would give me two seconds, I could actually go get it.”

Sole instantly broke the kiss, looking wide-eyed at Deacon in a panic. He pressed a finger against her lips and grabbed her hand. Without a word, Deacon pulled her towards the exit at the far end of the room. It would lead them out into the cool night air of The Commonwealth.

As he held her hand and pulled her behind him, he couldn’t stop the embarrassing little smile that broke across his face. He heard Sole giggle behind him and it only added to the pure unadulterated joy that was beginning to permeate his very being.

She saw him. She saw all of him. And she still wanted him.

------

Note: This fic makes me seem like I don’t like Danse. I actually love him! I just like to make fun of him :)

Also, if you enjoy my writing, I’m an author IRL. I’ve got 13 published books, but my favorite is Parrish. You should check it out if you like ghosts and love stories between weirdos.

#fo4 #fallout #fallout 4 #fanfic #fallout fanfic #fallout 4 fanfic #deacon x sole #deacon x sole survivor #deacon fanfic #fallout deacon #fallout deacon fanfic

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babbushka · 4 years ago

Text

Change of Plan

Lawyer!Kylo x Reader

5k ; Mostly fluff. CW: Rivals/enemies, possessive behavior, name-calling (but in a playful way), NSFW (PIV, dirty talk, bathtub sex)

Available on AO3

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Of all the days to cancel a date on, Valentine’s Day really had to be the worst.

Not that you had been dating that guy or anything – what did people consider dating these days anyway? – you’d only seen him a couple times. Work made things hard, made dating hard, and as much as you hated to admit it, part of you was really looking forward to spending the holiday with someone.

So when the text came through that he’s so sorry but something came up, any and all excitement you had had went straight down the toilet.

Which is how you find yourself with your arms crossed over your chest, making your way down the sidewalk at three in the afternoon, doing some sort of walk of shame. Of course you were on the way to the meet-up spot when you got the text, wanting to be there early to compose yourself and get those butterflies in your stomach to calm the fuck down. If you didn’t care so much about punctuality, you might be in bed still right now, nursing your feelings with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s.

If you didn’t care so much, you might be in the safe warm comfort of your apartment, instead of being so exposed like this. The thought only becomes more prevalent in your mind when those butterflies turn to anchors in your stomach, your mood only sinking further, as a familiar black car pulls up to you.

“Hey!” The window rolls down, and you hold your breath and will yourself not to look so obviously just-gotten-dumped-on-valentines-day-even-though-we-weren’t-even-dating.

“What the fuck do you want, Kylo?” You sigh, trying not to shiver. February in Manhattan wasn’t exceptionally freezing but you had definitely dressed for aesthetics over practicality – just another thing to make you feel like shit about it all.

Kylo, as ever, looks perfectly handsome.

It’s infuriating.

“Get in the car.” He calls to you from the backseat, the driver going at a slow enough pace to match your speed.

You don’t stop walking, even though the offer is tempting. What was he even doing there in your part of town, didn’t he have the case to prepare for? Shaking your head, you wave him off.

“No, I – I want to walk.” You swallow around the sound of your voice breaking, hating the way your eyes are betraying you. Kylo hears it anyway, and you brace yourself for him to make fun of you for it, but the taunting teasing mocking jokes never come.

Instead, he rolls his eyes at your stubbornness, and says something to his driver because the car stops then, and Kylo opens the car door, standing outside it and gesturing for you to come in. You notice that he’s dressed exceptionally well; sporting one of his nicer suits, winter light from the sun reflecting off his shiny black Allen Edmonds.

“The forecast says rain, you’ll get soaked.” He argues, and you hate him, hate how he’s right.

Steeling yourself with a big deep breath – because you are not going to cry in front of Kylo fucking Ren – you make your way over to him, barely able to look him in the eye as you slide into the backseat of his car. Happily, Kylo sits himself nice and close to you, closes the door, and at once, the driver pulls back onto the main road, matching speed with the other vehicles.

Kylo opens his mouth, and you smack a hand over it before he can even take a breath in, leveling him with a dark glare and threatening, “Before you say anything, I want you to know that I cannot handle any criticism in this moment.”

“I wasn’t planning on criticizing you.” Kylo shakes his face a little to get your hand to fall off his mouth, and you aren’t so sure you believe him.

“Then what are you here for?”

“I’m taking you out.”

Blinking, you stare at him. Was this some kind of joke? But the more you look at him, the more it makes sense. Belatedly, you realize he must have been on his way to your house, because he was driving the same direction you were walking. The nice suit, the shined shoes, the freshly done hair…hell he had even trimmed up his goatee.

“Excuse me?” Is all you can ask, wondering what this is, what kind of angle he’s coming at you with. Because with Kylo, there’s always an angle.

He shrugs, scratches at a spot underneath his chin and casts a glance down to his lap, and you for a moment think he might be…nervous. Well, sincerity certainly wasn’t the angle you had been expecting.

“It’s Valentine’s Day, and people tend to go out to celebrate.” Kylo is distracting with the way he talks, hands gesturing all over, masking a flash of vulnerability in his tone with sarcasm as he continues, “And I figured if you’re the only woman in New York City who isn’t out celebrating, you’re going to be a real fuckin’ bitch on Monday when we go to trial, so, here I am.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re terrible at being romantic?” You mutter, your heart pounding in your chest so loud that you’re sure he can hear it.

Cracking a wide grin, he taps the underside of your chin with his knuckles, before reaching forward to grab a big bouquet of red roses from the front passenger seat, careful not to disturb the petals as he pulls them over the center console and hands them to you.

“Look I even brought you flowers and everything – not to be romantic don’t go getting heads over heels or anything; some schmuck was giving them away for free down the road, I figured you’d like them better than them ending up in the garbage.” Kylo’s mouth runs faster than your mind can process it as you’re presented with the flowers, and if you hadn’t sworn to hate him for all eternity, you might have leaned in to kiss him right there.

“You figured right.” You smile, trying to remember when the last time anyone bought you flowers that wasn’t your secretary congratulating you on another case won, and fully accept the idea of a night out with Kylo by asking, “So, where are we going?”

With that go ahead, the driver speeds up a little more, makes a couple right turns. Kylo doesn’t tell you, just slings an arm around your shoulders and keeps his plan a secret. Those damned butterflies are back, and wouldn’t you know it they’re better than ever, and you can’t help but think that you’re lucky you were already dressed. It’s then that you evaluate what it is that you’re actually wearing.

On the date that never was, it was supposed to just be some wine tasting thing, so you had put on a beautiful dress that showed off all your favorite assets, as it were, and a pair of shoes that looked nice, but weren’t really meant for any sort of outdoor activity. Hoping beyond hope that Kylo wasn’t an outdoorsy sort of fella, you let yourself lean into him as the car zips through the Manhattan streets.

That hope slowly starts to die, once Central Park starts to come into view, and you realize that whatever he’s decided for his surprise is definitely not going to be conducive to these heels.

“Don’t worry, we’re not running or anything.” Kylo senses your mild stress, and with that, lies straight to you as the car slows down to a halt, and he grabs your hand and pulls you in a light jog into the park.

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Central Park is, as it always tends to be, bustling with people. It’s not quite late enough in the day, or cold enough outside for it to be a more secluded spot – if anything in Manhattan ever is. You clutch the bouquet of roses to your chest, having forgotten to leave them in the car, as Kylo forgets to give you back your hand, the both of you chuckling and out of breath.

“Destination number one.” Kylo gestures grandly to a bench, when he stops jogging after a few minutes, once you’re deep inside Shakespeare Garden, making you give him a funny look.

“There’s more than one?” You ask, wondering just how involved this whole evening was going to be.

“Don’t ask stupid questions.” Kylo replies with a cheeky grin, before bringing you closer to the bench.

When he said this was the first destination, you had thought he was referring to the park, but as you come closer, you recognize this bench as the famed Whisper Bench, mostly because there’s a couple of people already trading secrets there. It’s made entirely out of concrete, twenty feet long and curled on each end.

Kylo waits politely until they leave, and then he’s leading you by the hand to one side of the bench, jogging over to the other end.

Like the people before you, you each bend over and cup your hands around your mouth.

“You want to go first?” You whisper, wondering if it’s really true, that your words will travel across the bench and reach him.

You don’t have to wonder though, not for very long anyway, because soon after his deep baritone is shooting across the bench, making your cheeks heat with something too close to affection for you to ignore it, especially when his big secret is, “You look very beautiful tonight.”

“You’re not half bad either.” You send back to him, making him grin with all of his crooked teeth.

There are people waiting for you to be finished, so Kylo comes back around the other side of the bench, and breaks out into a sprint the second he has a hold of your hand once more, making you yelp and laugh as he tugs you along to the next spot on his list.

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

From 79th street, he brings you to 64th, where you’re faced with the charming little Chess & Checkers House. It’s in the children’s district, but thankfully there aren’t too many children around. The octagonal building is surrounded by twenty-four permanent tables that have inlaid boards.

“Put the flowers there so no one takes the table.” Kylo instructs, and you do as he says, along for the ride.

“We’re playing chess?” Your eyes widen happily, and Kylo immediately recoils in a cartoonish way, shaking his head and making you sigh with exasperation.

“No fucking way, you’d kick my ass in a heartbeat.” He says, making those butterflies go crazy once again. Kylo walks up to the window of the little building, “We’re playing something I have a more even playing field on – one checkers set please.”

“Oh you’re so on.” You grin, taking him up on his challenge.

You set up the table, giving him black and keeping red for yourself. After three games, it becomes incredibly evident very early on, that Kylo has no idea how to play checkers. Taunting him the entire time – because really, who doesn’t know how to play checkers? – you collect your wins easily and smugly.

It felt good to win, that’s the whole reason you became a lawyer in the first place after all, but it felt especially good to win against your arch rival. The fourth game ends when you eventually take over the board, using a few strategic moves that have him completely pissed off.

“You can’t just do that!” He protests, the vein in his neck jumping out, as you jump over three of his pieces and turn your piece into a queen for the second time in a row.

“Of course I can! Don’t be such a sore loser.” You roll your eyes, but he’s not having it.

“You’re a fucking cheater I don’t know why I thought this would be a good idea.” Kylo takes all the pieces off the board and shoves them into the small box that they came in, angrily muttering to himself, “Making up rules as you go along and all this bullshit.”

“I won fair and square and you know it. Consider it a prologue for our case on Monday.” You rest your chin in your hand, watching with satisfaction as he scoffs and grumbles all the way back to the small octagonal house to return the pieces with the shame of losing four games in a row.

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

Not far away at all down 65th street is the next stop on Kylo’s route, and you almost don’t believe that this is where he means to take you, when you stop your giggly jogging in front of the carousel. It’s getting pretty dark outside, between the rain forecast and the short winter days, which only lets the lights from inside the carousel shine brighter.

The golden inviting warmth of the lights blink and pulse along with music that plays, and standing there in line, with this big bouquet of roses, half of which have lost the majority of their petals just from all your running around, makes you feel like you’re in some kind of romcom.

Kylo lets you go in front of him, a hand on your waist as you take the big step up, immediately seeking out the perfect horse to claim as your own. You know that there’s two-seater options, but nothing beats the classic design of a galloping horse.

“Aren’t you going to sit?” You ask him once the carousel begins to spin, and he remains standing next to you, one hand on a golden pole to steady himself, the other resting gently on your thigh.

“And break one of these things? I don’t think so. The last thing I need is for the park to sue me.” He jokes, and you laugh at that, my my how would the tables have turned in that case.

“You made a good call, it’s chilly up here.” The movement of the carousel has the wind biting at your face, and at once your hands come across your chest to warm up the tops of your arms through your dress.

“I was wondering why the fuck you didn’t bring a coat.” Kylo immediately begins to fuss with you so you don’t go falling off the damn horse.

“I hadn’t planned on being outside today!” You defend yourself and your poor choice of attire as the carousel horse moves up and down, making it harder and harder for Kylo to get his hands on you, in turn making the two of you laugh.

“Yeah yeah, a likely story I’m sure – take my jacket.” He gives up trying to warm you up himself, and instead shucks off the thick wool jacket and drapes it around your shoulders.

It’s an intimate gesture, one that you’re not so sure how to take. You and Kylo hated one another, really loathed each other’s existence. Every day you thought about him and got a headache, and you knew he felt the same way. He had said as much, even. Kylo was a ruthless, terrible, awful, handsome, funny, charming…oh sonofabitch.

“But…then you’ll be cold.” You whisper, watching as the twinkling lights shine and shimmer in his big brown eyes, wondering when he got so close.

“So?” Kylo whispers back, holding a hand out for you to take when the carousel comes to a halt.

With his jacket around your shoulders, you don’t hesitate to take that hand, once again conveniently forgetting to let go of it even when both of your feet are firmly planted on the ground.

“Are you hungry?” He asks, once you’re both off the carousel and are walking a little less purposefully, just meandering down the park.

“I could go for some hot chocolate if there’s a place around.” You appreciate the question, finding that you don’t want the evening to end just yet. Not yet, not when you’re having so much fun.

Kylo must be thinking the very same, because his face lights up, and you can practically see the gears turning around and around in his head as he nods, “I know just the spot.”

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People in the park were so smart, you decide as a vendor hands you one of those eco-friendly paper cups filled nearly to the brim with piping hot cocoa. Big marshmallows float gently and melt steadily as you take a loud sip and thank the man while Kylo pays. How the hell Kylo knew this guy would be here, you don’t know, but knowing Kylo, you wouldn’t be surprised if he had the guy’s number on speed dial or something.

It’s quiet, in this little spot of the park. As it gets darker and colder, more people start to head back to their own homes. You know too that realistically, you will have to go back to your apartment as well, so you take small, deliberate sips of your cocoa, hoping to draw out the time left.

Kylo is quiet, sipping on his cocoa too. You wonder if he’s thinking all the same things, if he’s dragging it out so that he doesn’t have to say goodbye yet either. You wonder where his driver is, what that poor sap is doing while you and Kylo dance around each other like this.

He keeps stealing glances at you, and you keep pretending to ignore them. Yes the sun has officially gone down beyond the skyline, and yes you’re probably colder than you should be comfortable with, even with his jacket around your arms, comically too large for you. Yes the flowers have all but wilted completely from the wind and the running, and yes your feet are killing you.

But you don’t want it to end, not yet.

Never in a million years did you think you’d have so much fun with Kylo of all people – never in a million years did you think you’d be so glad to have a date cancel on you. Who the hell needed a wine tasting anyway? You knew what wines you liked and didn’t like. Even though you were both well into adulthood, being with Kylo tonight made you feel like a kid again, in that sense that you hadn’t had this kind of fun in a long time.

It is at that moment, that the sky opens up completely, and rain begins to fall in freezing cold sheets, all at once. Shouting out of surprise, the two of you are shocked, and it’s all you can do to not drop the cocoa and somehow freeze and burn yourself simultaneously.

“Shit, let’s get out of here!” Kylo breaks the silence by saying, and you agree at once, the two of you running running running through the trail, looking for a place to take some shelter.

In the dark, it’s hard to find such a place, so Kylo cuts through a shortcut path that he knows, that has you popping out on the other side of the park, through a big gate and onto the street. No more than a few seconds go by, before his car pulls up, and Kylo practically yanks the door open, pushing you in quickly and climbing in behind you.

The two of you exchange glances, soaked to the bone, and burst out laughing, shivering and trying to warm your hands by the heater. The car seems too small then, seems like there’s no space for the both of you. You’re acutely aware of how his leg is pressing up against your own, how his bicep nudges yours, how his face is practically right up against yours, as you both turn towards one another to get near the heater.

“What did you have in mind now?” You whisper, and you’re not sure, but you think that you can see him swallow nervously.

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

When Kylo’s car pulls up outside the Baccarat, you really wish that the rain hadn’t ruined both of your outfits. No one seems to mind the two of you dripping on the floor of the lobby, as Kylo exudes all the confidence of New York City’s top prosecutor, but you certainly wish that you looked less like a drowned rat.

A key is slid across the counter, and into the elevators you and Kylo go, stealing little glances back and forth, looking away shyly when you’re caught. Eventually, the doors open again, and it’s a short walk to one of the most beautiful suites you’ve ever seen.

“You don’t get to say I’m not romantic ever again.” Kylo smirks, and you’d smack him for that if you weren’t still taking everything in.

Not only is the room beautiful just because it’s a luxury hotel, but Kylo must have gotten some sort of romance Valentine’s Day package, because the room is completely filled with tasteful and elegant décor.

On a silver bar cart that’s been wheeled into the sitting area of the room, there’s a bucket of champagne and crystal glasses. Gourmet chocolates in a satin box sit next to it, as does a small wrapped present that you’re dying to open at some point. Cashmere robes are laid out neatly on the massive bed, and large spherical rose bouquets are placed all over the surfaces, complete with rose petals leading to the bed from the room’s front door.

“Bubble bath?” Kylo offers, and you give him a knowing smile, grateful to both be warm, and to be naked with him.

His body never fails to make your eyes wander, you think. Between how hard he works and antagonizing you, you wonder when he ever has the time to work out, because surely he must work out. Kylo’s solid and strong in a way that makes you feel absolutely primal, and as he helps you step into the steaming water of the bathtub, you don’t think you’ve ever felt more safe.

“We have a five-course dinner coming.” Kylo murmurs softly as he settles in behind you, pulling your back to lean against his chest as he grazes his lips against your ear, “And breakfast in bed tomorrow, among other things.”

“What would you have done if I had plans?” You ask as you chuckle and lean more fully against him, scooping up some of the thick frothy bubbles and blowing them into the air.

“I would have convinced you to ditch them.” Kylo says right away, making you roll your eyes.

“You’re so smug."

“I think I’ve earned it.”

You can’t argue with him on that, as much as you love arguing with him. Kylo kisses along your shoulder, up up up to the edge of your jaw, your cheek, making his way to your temple as your bodies soak in the hot water of the tub and you get the chance to simply relax and be together.

“You know, I almost had plans.” You bring up softly, the sting of rejection not hurting so badly anymore. In fact, you pretty much forgot about the date that never was, and you’re not so sure why you’re bringing it up now. Maybe because you can admit that this was a better Valentine’s Day than you could have ever hoped for.

“I do know.” Kylo splashes his hand in the water for a little while, before dropping the unexpected admission of, “I asked him to cancel.”

Water sloshes over the side of the tub with the speed at which you turn to shoot your eyebrows up at him, mouth dropping open in surprise.

“What? Really? Why?” The demanding questions fall from your lips at once, the thoughts in your head coming to a screeching halt.

“I haven’t been planning this night for ages for some nobody in copyright law to come in and fuck it up.” Kylo has no hint of regret in his voice, and that catches you up. “Are you mad?”

Instead of answering him, you lean in and wrap your arms around his neck, your lips crashing onto his. It’s possessive, to a degree that you should be mad about, but…but you’re just not. In fact, you feel the complete opposite of mad, you feel relieved. Kylo wasn’t just taking you out on some pity date, he wasn’t just trying to get you to not be such a bitch on Monday, no he had planned this out.

For weeks, possibly even a month, to get a reservation like this, Kylo had planned to surprise you. It was incredibly sweet, so as you kiss him hard and slip your tongue into his mouth, as his hands smooth around your back, cradle the base of your skull, hold you close, no – no you’re not mad.

Needing to be closer to him, you straddle his lap, as the kisses turn deeper, more passionate. Kylo’s hand tangles through your hair and crushes you to him, soft groans and grunts spilling out of his throat. Chest heaving as you gulp down breaths, you gasp as your nipples brush against his pecs, and stiffen at the contact. Kylo swallows down the sound, nips at your lips, gets them swollen and kiss-bitten.

“Fuck me?” You ask breathlessly, and Kylo grins with all those teeth of his again, and you let him manhandle your legs to better support yourself on either side of his thick waist.

“Sit on my cock baby, let me do the hard work.” He encourages, and you moan as you do just that.

The hot water helps relax you, but you’re not nearly stretched enough to take him in one fell swoop, so you let your head tip back, mouth open as you moan and slide down onto his cock inch by inch, hands bracing on his chest, letting gravity help.

“Goddamn you’re big, Kylo.” You moan, and he puffs up with pride in a way that you regret feeding his ego, but not really.

“You can take it, you’ve done it before pretty thing.” He’s focused, focused on making you feel good, and he’s good at it.

Kylo lets one of his hands slip down to rub at your clit just enough to get your thighs trembling, legs spreading to sink further down onto his cock, pulling out the sweetest whines and moans out of you. He sits up against the wall of the tub, one hand on your hip holding you steady as he rubs his fingers against you under the water, and that’s a good thing because when he does finally bottom out inside of you, you slip on the floor of the tub a little.

“I’ve got you,” he assures you, leaning forward to press kisses all across your breasts, smothering praise into your flesh, “Good girl, just relax for me.”

It’s hard to relax when he feels so fucking good, and you tell him as much, making him chuckle. But then he’s planting his feet and lifting his hips, fucking his cock up into you, and you can’t tell him much of anything at all.

“Oh fuck,” You sigh happily, eyes rolling back into your head as you ride him, “Yes – yesyesyes Kylo -- !”

“Did you – fuck keep squeezing my cock baby – did you really fucking think you’d have a good time with whatever his name is?” Kylo asks darkly, possessively, as he thrusts into you with a rhythm that has you gripping the side of the tub, body rocking back and forth, covered in bubbles that stick and pop all over you.

“No,” You whine, “But dammit you haven’t spoken to me since last – oh! Oh yes, yes please Kylo.”

He’s managed to find your gspot like this, and fucks up against it with each thrust of his cock, the head pressing and rubbing against it back and forth and back and forth, making your eyes roll back into your head, your toes curling under the water.

“Just because I didn’t tell you – this pussy is so tight holy shit -- I was taking you out doesn’t mean I wasn’t planning on it.” Kylo says, and you don’t even know what the fuck he’s talking about anymore, especially as he latches his mouth to your throat and sucks bruises and marks into your flesh.

“Well – Ah! – well next time warn a fucking woman, would you?” You swat at his arm, your thighs working to bounce on his cock, sweat and steam curling around you, making your bodies stick to one another as the both of your hands slip and slide all over, wanting to touch and pinch and grab.

His cock spears through you in the most delicious way, your cunt throbs and pulses around it, the moans and gasps and sighs and grunts of pleasure sing through your bodies. You and Kylo don’t have sex often – but every time it’s like this, every time it makes you wonder how you could do anything else in the world, other than get fucked by him.

“If I – fuck baby, fuckfuckfuck – if I told you it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?” He grunts, and that’s all the warning that you get before he’s coming.

You can feel the hot load of it spreading through your body, and you whine, desperate to come too, digging your nails into the muscle of his shoulder as he fucks you through his own orgasm. You’re so close, just on the precipice of bliss, just a little longer, a little more – and then he’s dropping a hand to your clit once again, and that’s enough to send you over the edge.

“You’re such an asshole.” Resting your head on his chest, you press a kiss to the sweaty line between his pecs, and melt against him as your orgasm ripples and shakes through you.

Kylo being the most insufferable man on the planet, only tucks some of your hair behind your ear and presses a kiss to the top of your head. His hands trace patterns against your back under the water, and there’s a distinctly teasing sort of softness in his words, the kind where you can practically hear the smug smile in his voice, as he wishes you a, “Happy valentine’s day sweetheart.”

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Tagging some pals! @mochabucky @sacklerscumrag @artsymaddie @bitchydecisions @direnightshade @reyloaddict55 @thembohux @kylorenswhxre @sunflowersinthesnow @babayagakeanu @safarigirlsp @rennasiance-mama @steeevienicks @mousemakingjam @the-unmanaged-mischief @materialisthicc @drake-bells-waxed-penis @dutchiepie @slut-for-harri @littleevilme13 @erys-targaryen @leillaa

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren/reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren fanfic #kylo ren smut #valentines day #adam driver fanfic #adcu #my writing #kylo ren/you #lawyer!kylo ren #lawyer au

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get-shiggy-with-it · 4 years ago

Text

Scream Therapy

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x gender neutral!reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: extremely vague allusions to mental illness, metaphors about wounds, angst with a relieving ending, let me know if i’ve missed something

AO3 mirror

So you know those tiktoks where people go out into the woods and scream? Just like expel all the shit that’s been holding them down into an open field and let the earth reclaim all their dark, restless energy? Reveal the burdens that have been creaking in their joints and trapped in the prison of their ribs for the trees to swallow?

I’ve been thinking about that and Shigaraki a lot.

Like the rest of the league too, but mostly Shigs.

Just imagine:

It’s late, it always is when shit is going down at the hideout. The League of Villains is practically nocturnal at this point. Shigaraki’s mind is a loud place—lot’s of rabid, train tearing down the track lines of thought that clatter and roar and gush toxic coal smoke.

So as annoyed as he makes himself out to be, he doesn’t actually mind the din of the bar all that much. Twice and Toga chattering in the corner, random bits of too loud laughter and the clink of Kurogiri polishing glasses as he tells off Dabi for the umpteenth time about smoking inside—hell, even Compress rambling about the health benefits of high quality wine to nobody in particular is somewhat...comforting?

That’s not quite the right word, but their noise settles around him a bit like a thick quilt and dampens the rampage inside his head for a while.

He thinks about a lot of things.

Some good, most bad, all obsessive. He’ll get stuck in these loops sometimes, small questions evolve into bigger, more complicated webs, and suddenly it’s been four hours and he’s done nothing but stare at the same spot on the wall just left of his desktop monitor.

Sleep is a terrifying venture for much the same reason. Once he gets caught in that cycling it’s so hard to break out, and that’s when he’ll stumble down the stairs and sequester himself away at the end of the bar.

There he will sit and listen to the incessant white noise of his team—which is frustrating too but infinitely better than whatever anxiety coated sludge his brain will come up with if left to its own devices, so he bears it.

And then there’s you.

Who you are isn’t entirely important.

Maybe you’re just another member of the League, dedicated to helping your boss spread villainy across the city. Maybe you’re a morally ambiguous civilian who just stumbled in much like a stray cat into a depressed college student’s apartment and simply never left.

Whatever the circumstances, where you came from doesn’t matter.

To him, your contributions to the din are just another layer of insulation against the storm. He couldn’t really care less what you do, or where you go when you weren’t there. As long as your voice could offer a different type of grating against his ears than the silent throbbing of his head when he is alone, then your presence is justified.

Shigaraki only takes notice of you when you leave, when your voice is no longer adding to the uproar drowning out whatever new thought spiral he was trying to claw his way out of.

It’s very late then. That odd, in between time when it’s closer to the sunrise than to it’s setting but somehow also the darkest portion of the night. Of course, it’s never totally dark—not with all the light pollution laying an ever present, glowing haze across the horizon—but it’s as close as it gets out here to pitch black.

He catches the tail end of your coat, a glimpse of your shoe soles as you slip up the stairs and climb the wrought iron ladder that leads to the roof. Shigaraki often catches himself wondering how you figured out exactly how to avoid each board that creaked. He thinks sometimes it’s because you like going unnoticed, that too much attention makes you feel just as shaky as he gets when he’s been inside his head too long. Or possibly you just don’t want to wake anyone up in the rare moments that some League members are actually asleep.

Regardless, he watches you go and feels strangely...compelled to follow and because he rarely feels compelled to do anything unless it’s furthering the downfall of hero society, he does.

He takes an unsteady step, then another until the brisk, cusp-of-summer air is washing over him. It bites through his thin black top and the worn holes in his jeans, but the sting feel likes something.

And since he almost always feels nothing at all, it’s good.

You’re stood a few feet from the edge of the building, where the ledge has begun to crumble away from age and poor maintenance. The wind is strong enough that it makes your limp arms sway by your sides. Shigaraki is so thin now, he’s almost afraid for a moment it might blow him away. He’s found himself feeling so insubstantial as of late, it’s shocking when his feet don’t lift off from the roof entirely. He crosses the distance towards you slowly.

If you hear him approaching, you don’t show it.

Normally he wouldn’t start a conversation of his own volition but he did follow you up here and the silence is getting a bit deafening, even with the breeze.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

It’s simple, but it’s all he can think to say. Funny, with how many words that run through his head, he can never find the right ones when he wants them.

You turn then, and your face is...well it’s a face. He tends not to look at people’s faces much—doesn’t want to see their expressions when they look at him, but from what he can tell you aren’t upset that he’s here at least.

“I love the city at night.”

That’s all you offer in response and he knows somehow that you’ll keep talking even if he doesn’t answer. That you know how much he hates the quiet but can’t ever fill it himself.

“When you’re up high enough, you can pretend the streetlights are stars,” you divulge, as if it’s some sort of great, long kept secret.

Maybe it is.

Maybe you have a lot of secrets. You seem to him like the type of person who would. Who keeps life changing truths tucked under your tongue to drop suddenly over convenience store dinners and cheap beer.

He thinks that maybe he’d like to know them.

“It’s always so alive during the day, the streets I mean,” you continue, eyes trained out on the buildings below, tracing constellations from block to block. “But I can’t shake the feeling that it’s rotting too like….”

You trail off and don’t finish the thought, but you don’t have to. He knows what you mean: like the city is a wound that’s festering. That all the people and the heroes that corral them like cattle are just an infection waiting to spread.

“What are you doing here?” he asks again, because he hasn’t been able to come up with anything else.

Your gaze flits over his face this time, and Shigaraki almost misses the small smile that plays at your lips. He’s close enough now that you could touch him, and you almost do, shoulders just inches away from brushing. But you don’t close the gap.

You touch the others, a lot actually, though he gets the sense you’re the type to ask first. And with his mind running on overdrive every waking second, he gets overstimulated easily. He should probably be thankful you aren’t as familiar with him. That you bother to notice the distance he keeps even when he rarely pays you any mind.

Maybe you’re thankful for that too.

“You know, scream therapy is a very effective and cheap alternative to professional intervention,” you say matter of factly in response.

He waits for you to continue and you do.

“There’s no one out this late but heroes on patrols and they won’t come to help us, so this is a perfect opportunity to give it a try.”

He can feel his brow knitting together and you raise your hand for a second as if to smooth your thumb over the wrinkled skin. Shigaraki doesn’t move, but watches your fingers pause in mid motion and drop back down.

There’s a strange charge in the air between you—a spark he distantly wishes would ignite if only so he could stop churning in his gut.

“How do you do it?”

He’s never asked so many questions of anyone in his life. But he finds he truly wants to know.

And you’re the one that can show him.

You breathe deeply beside him, letting your eyes drift shut and taking a step towards the ledge. With hands balled into righteous little fists, you bend a bit at the waist and you...scream.

Shigaraki isn’t quite sure what he’d expected, but for some reason it wasn’t that.

He’s heard shouts before, cries for help or out of fear, but nothing like this. The sound seems to bubble up from some deep, dank pit inside you and bursts forth from your mouth like a geyser spewing boiling water from the earth. It’s long and low and loudloudloud. It isn’t a sound he could ever imagine you making, but it rumbles in his chest as if it’s his own.

Just watching has a weight lifting from his shoulders.

You keep going even when he knows you should have run out of air. But you aren’t really making the noise, you’re just letting it escape. He’s not sure how he knows that but he does.

Your voice cracks and snaps and rages forth and you scream in a way he feels in his very bones. The garbled, awful sound is so clearly understandable despite the wind that carries it away.

It says: I am free and young and can feel none of it.

And then it’s words. Words that tumble from you in a torrent.

About your family, about what’s been done to you, what you’ve done to yourself.

About the lies and the injustice of it all.

You’re heaving by the end, deflated as though all the screams had left behind an empty space—an abscess drained and ready to heal over or fill back up.

“It’s your turn.”

Shigaraki stares at you, silhouetted by the dull, silver glow of the city and panting. You both look at each other for a moment, reveling in the odd connection that sometimes forms between strangers who know far too much about each other.

He doesn’t think he could top that, but the energy you’ve created is invigorating and he’s determined to ride the wave while he has it.

Taking a step, he joins you by the ledge again, and you back up as if allowing him into the spotlight. The wind will swallow whatever he says, it will eat the words like a starving behemoth and he finds himself ready to feed the beast.

He has to dig deep, scratch at old sores to make them bleed again, tear at scabs so he can let the contaminating thoughts leak out. Once he feels like he’s breached far enough, Shigaraki takes a breath.

And he screams.

His body doubles over with the strength of it, foot slamming down onto the roofing and four fingers fisted in the hem of his shirt.

It hurts coming out, rips at his vocal chords and has his throat raw to bleeding after just the first few seconds but he pushes past it.

He wonders if this is what a runner's high feels like, when you’ve pushed beyond the side stitches and knee aches and your blood finally rushes with all those elusive feel good chemicals he never has enough of.

Whatever it is, the feeling is addicting.

Shigaraki is dimly aware of you in his peripheral, encouraging the tsunami thoughts in his head to be thrust out into the uncaring arms of the city skyline.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t have to search for the words. They simply come. All his frustrations, some he wasn’t even conscious of, spill fresh and steaming like blood. Physically, his body remains but somewhere in the depths of his mind he is younger and hurt and alone and trying desperately to scream.

“I destroy everything I touch!” he roars at the apathetic, grey sidewalk below.

After the last word leaves him, he feels the same weightlessness he’d seen in the sag of your shoulders. The same snapping of the coil slack in his spine.

And suddenly, with this glorious, awful sense of revelation, Shigaraki realizes that everything in his head has gone quiet.

He’s over taken by a silence that requires no filling, a peace that he’d imagined only existed at the bottom of abandoned wells, far away from any chubby child’s hands that may toss foolish wishes down them.

He thinks about kissing you then.

And he knows now that this thought has always been there, but it was drowned like a subway rat in the aftermath of the hurricane brewing in his brainstem. He has always noticed you no matter how hard you try to blend into the background. Your voice has always been a bit better at shutting out the unending, worthless choir in his head.

He wouldn’t have followed anyone else up here—not Dabi, not Spinner, not Compress or even Kurogiri.

He can see that now. In this new enlightened state, everything is so much clearer. Though he is quickly thrust back into the present, into his body once again, as another kind of soft weight settles on his shoulders. Your coat is skin warmed and smells like you and everything he’s ever loved in his own screwy little way. He realizes then that you’ve been trying to talk to him this whole time.

“Shigs,” you call again and tuck the coat tighter around his shoulders, “you were shaking.”

Shigaraki nods, feeling relief from the cold he hadn’t quite been aware of till now. He’s not sure if you’ve ever addressed him so informally before, but he decides he likes the nickname.

It feels a bit like a gift.

“Better, yeah?”

He’s not really sure if it’s better, but it is different and it’s been impossibly long since anything has been different, so he thinks it must be good.

“Yes,” he says.

It’s a general yes, both to your question and to you, whatever that might mean. He doesn’t say anything more because he’s done enough talking and you nod like you understand.

Neither of you moves to leave the roof, but you do inch closer to him this time, closing the gap and tucking him into your side. Your arm is slung gently across his shoulders and he finds the weight of it relieving.

That seems like it shouldn’t make since but it does—a paradox of sorts, weight being a comfort.

Then the sun begins to rise and it’s as if he’s seeing you in a new light.

Your profile outlined by the stark daybreak rays, so horribly strong despite the scream he knows is forming again under the surface.

And Shigaraki wonders if you see him that way too.

#tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki x reader #bnha x reader #tomura shigaraki imagines #gender nuetral reader #slight manga spoilers #bee.writes

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jupitersson · 3 years ago

Note

Hey! Hope it's cool if I ask: 002: Laudna or Imogen?

hey friend! of course it's cool to ask, that's the whole reason i reblogged it lmao. i would do both, but i think just by doing one you'll understand my answers for the other lmao.

002 | Give me a character & I will tell you

Imogen

How I feel about this character: hi, hello, imogen temult ma'am i'd fucking die for her. laura bailey characters own my ass, and imogen is no exception. she's my favorite pastel horse girl and i'm obsessed with her dream sequences and i just want to knOW ALL OF HER SECRETS. i am normal about imogen temult... yes... (no)...

All the people I ship romantically with this character: laudna and fearne. these witches be bitches. mostly laudna, if you couldn't tell by my reblogs and ao3 lmao

My non-romantic OTP for this character: i feel like imogen and orym is great. both of them have the group braincells, it seems, and i love to see them both reeling sometimes at the shit bell's hells decide to do (see: the ring situation)

My unpopular opinion about this character: listen y'all i love all that art of imogen with glasses, but i could really take it either way. dunno if that's unpopular but /shrug

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: i really want to see them go to gelvaan and meet her dad! i feel like it could be another emotionally charged confrontation like beau in kamordah, and i'm just. i'm a slut for characters with daddy issues, and i just wanna know more about her mom too, so i just really want imogen returning to her hometown angst

My OTP: imogen/laudna all the way these witches be gay

My cross-over ship: i'm making this cross campaign bc i can't think of like a cross fandom ship. imogen/fjord? idk dream angst, i think it'd be funny... also more laura/travis character romance is always fun

A headcanon fact: imogen's covered in freckles. everywhere. give me more pcs with freckles. her shoulders, her back, her arms, everywhere. she used to hate them, but laudna traces over them and she feels worth living.

#ask #monadique #critical role #imogen temult

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scripturiends · 4 years ago

Text

stole all the air from my atmosphere

Read on ao3

Summary: Han Joonhwi thinks maybe pulling all-nighters wasn’t so bad after all, even when you’ve practically finished studying ages ago.

Rating: T

Word count: 1,577

Notes: Inspired by a poem by Timothy Joshua. And totally optional, but I recommend listening to this song while reading.

Hey, all. Thanks for waiting patiently for an update. This fic is in response specifically to a request I received here. I know a lot of people have been requesting for a sequel to ‘gave me no compasses, gave me no signs’ as well; truthfully, I’m not sure if this fic is in the same ‘universe’ as that one — all I can definitively say is that this still follows the canon. So, I’ll leave it up to you to decide if it’s the same timeline or not. I have a lot of fic ideas lined up for an “official” sequel, anyway. ;)

The Solhwi brain rot just gets more potent as we anticipate the new episodes — I absolutely love receiving plot ideas from all of you, and while it’s a challenge to interpret it in my own way, I still hope that it’s on par with your expectations. As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts and comments. You can send me a message anytime too! I know I say this often, but your continued support really really keeps me motivated to write. Would love to make new friends as well, if we can help it.

Okay, the note is getting too long now. As usual, the fic is under the cut, and all mistakes in this fic are mine. Enjoy!

There was that moment, when you stole all the air from my atmosphere; when my heart pounded within the might of all the planets.

It’s the third time Han Joonhwi has bit his tongue in the past ten minutes, attempting to stifle his oncoming yawns, trying not to cause any disturbance. He fights his drowsiness as best as he can, hoping that his companion wouldn’t notice — and yet, as his luck would have it, the moment he couldn’t hold it in any longer just so happened to be the exact same moment the person next to him lifted her nose from the book it was buried in.

Without looking at him, she flips another page. Tone commanding but masked with concern, Kang Sol mumbles, “Just go to bed already.”

So much for being lowkey, he thought. Joonhwi stretches himself awake, thinking of the perfect response: casual enough to make it look like he doesn’t care, but caring enough that she wouldn’t push him away. “Not until you’re done,” he finalizes.

Sol scoffs, tossing her pen lightly on the table. “You don’t even take this class.”

Well, of course he knew that. But Kang Sol A — truthfully, he prefers to omit the distinction: no matter how many Kang Sols there are in Korea, or hell, even in the entire world, he’s only got eyes for one — is not getting anything out of him. If getting Joonhwi to admit his true feelings was her goal, she’s far from reaching it.

“You know why I’m here,” he sidetracked.

Unconvinced, she turns to him with a provoking look, and Joonhwi already knows she’s about to go on a long-winded rant. “Yeah, yeah, I do,” she started. “You want to hang out with me but instead of just asking like a normal person, you make up this lame excuse about how I need to study even though I was already planning on doing that anyway. You practically finished studying ages ago so you just sitting there doing nothing is really rubbing salt in my wounds.”

He watches her with both his hands on his head, suppressing a smile. Finding an opening, Sol pushes his chest lightly. “I don’t need you here. Get out.”

She said it so weakly that he knows there’s no way she could have meant it. Making sure she doesn’t lose her balance, Joonhwi quickly takes hold of her wrists and gently places them back on the table. “You talk too much,” he breathed.

Sol purses her lips in annoyance and propped her chin up with her hand. “Yeah, well, that’s why you’re dating me,” she pouted.

If she keeps putting him in his place like this, he might actually have to walk out, but not for the reasons she’d expect him to, like his supposed exhaustion. Joonhwi knows Sol doesn’t do this on purpose, but she naturally has a way of making him flustered, and he’s trying really hard not to lose his cool right now.

She stomps her feet lightly on the ground, groaning. “This is too difficult,” she complains, leaning her head on Joonhwi’s shoulder.

Really, really hard.

It’s funny how Sol can say something one minute and then completely contradict it by the next. She says she doesn’t need him there, but clings onto him like her life depended on it. Not that Joonhwi was complaining — but he does want to have a little fun with her. He wanted to stir her a bit with something like, I thought you didn’t need me here? He knows she hates being called out for snappy remarks that she only ever means as a joke.

But a quick glance at Sol, in her favorite pajamas and one of Joonhwi’s sweaters, on the very rare occasions she has her hair down, bangs falling on her eyes, Joonhwi decided against it. Her vulnerability shouldn’t be treated with ridicule; it should be met with an equal amount of softness. After all, no one else but Joonhwi gets to see Sol like this — he finds that as a privilege which shouldn’t be taken for granted.

“Okay.” He gives in. “Let me have a look.”

Joonhwi holds his palm out to ask for the reading material, which, as usual, Sol rejects. “Didn’t we already talk about this?”

He feigns innocence. “Talk about what?”

Her head feels heavy on his shoulder. “I need to be able to stand on my own if I’m going to survive law school hell,” she reminds him. “You can’t keep coming to my rescue for every little inconvenience.”

“So this is just a minor setback?” Joonhwi teases. He couldn’t help it.

“No,” Sol cries, “it’s a major obstacle.”

She snuggles up against him, and Joonhwi could literally feel the heat rising to his face. Nonetheless, he lightly holds the side of her head for support and asks, “So what? Are you just going to give up?”

“Of course not,” she mumbles, her breath hot on his neck. Joonhwi knows the law well, but he feels like this should be illegal.

“But sometimes I wish I was just naturally smart like you.”

He lets out a soft sigh. Like many other things, the pair have talked about this before, and Joonhwi has never denied that he and many others have had a significant head start over Sol. But this is what he’d always tell her:

“If everyone in this school had half as much of your wit, every crime in the world would have been solved by now.”

To which she’d grimace and respond with, “Yeah, tell that to the F I got in Criminal Code.”

But tonight was different. Sol wasn’t coming from a place of defeat, she was saying this out of frustration. She was probably thinking that maybe, had her life choices been different, she would have had it easier. That maybe, had she been as lucky in wealth and opportunities as everyone else, she wouldn’t need to work twice as hard as them. So that maybe, like Joonhwi, she could just comfortably sit in silence with him and enjoy his company.

Right now, he’s treading murky waters and he’s afraid that one wrong move could give Sol the wrong idea. Joonhwi has never been the type to open up to people, but she never made it difficult for him to do so. With Sol, honesty was just the default. Telling her things he’d never entrust with anyone else came as easy as breathing.

He takes her hand and gingerly intertwines it with his own. “I didn’t have it easy at the beginning either,” he admits. “Law school wasn’t even a part of my plan, and yet here I am.”

This is at least one thing he knows Sol could empathize with. After being betrayed by the last person he’d ever expect to hurt him, Joonhwi’s life took a turn. To an extent, he was motivated by rage. But mostly, he was just trying to find a way to turn that pain into something useful, trying to make sure no one else has to go through what he did. And call him foolish for being too hopeful or optimistic, but he believes this is something he and Sol can do for each other. They’re two sides of the same coin: the law owes Sol an apology, and Joonhwi is coming to terms with the fact that he might never get one, ultimately being robbed of the opportunity after his uncle’s untimely death.

Joonhwi knows his words bear significant weight to Sol. There’s a lot of things he wants to say to her but right now he just settles with, “I think you’re smart enough. If anything, you need to stop going overboard. What if you get sick again?”

She lifts her head and stares at him with doe eyes.

“That’s why I’m here.” He raises their interlocked fingers to show to her. “Why do you think I’m holding your hand? It’s so I can pull you out from under when you’re drowning in all of this.”

Sol slowly breaks out into an endearing smile, trying to repress her laughter but failing. “Heol. Han Joonhwi, since when were you so sentimental?”

Joonhwi doesn’t know where this newfound bravery came from, but he kisses Sol on the forehead lightly. “Since you needed it.”

Sol blinks, her expression unreadable, and Joonhwi fears that he may have done the wrong thing. But much to his disbelief, she instead grabs him by the collar and closes the gap between her lips and his. They crash against one another in perfect rhythm, and Joonhwi mentally slaps himself for not doing this sooner. Never has he felt more at peace than at this very moment, which was ironic considering he was supposed to be the one doing the comforting. And yet, the lines blur when he realizes that even when their methods are vastly different, they’re at their best when they’re in tune with each other’s needs.

And right now, this is what he needs the most.

Much to Joonhwi’s dismay, Sol finally pulls away; they’re both out of breath.

Still in a daze, he musters up the courage to ask such a stupid question. In fact, he’s surprised he could even speak at all. “What was that for?”

“You’re not the only sentimental one here. If you’re going to kiss me, do it right.”

That was when I knew, you were worlds more, than just a first kiss.

Send me your thoughts here!

#jtbc law school #law school #kang sol a #han joon hwi #solhwi #kim bum #ryu hye young #kang sol a x han joon hwi #fics #jtbc #kdrama #korean drama #mine #otp: why couldn't you be here sooner

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thunderheadfred · 3 years ago

Text

🤚The Second Worst (Pt. 1/?)🤚

Part 2 of my Shigaraki Thesis Headcanons. HC's // The Second Worst: 1 - 2

The half-mad ghost of Shimura Tenko is in love with you, and your life is about to become a tragic wreck. -- AKA here's when I gave up on bullet points and went off the fuckin rails

I'm self-conscious about writing so much, so uhhhh, please be kind, hahaaa. This is rather long and involved. Are these still even HCs or just a self-indulgent AU outline? There are some mysteries we may never solve.

This is on AO3 now, if you prefer reading there. Anyway. Minors do not interact.

- - - - -

You met Tenko before the League existed.

Believe it or not, there are a million ways it might have happened, but in the end: you were both bargain-binning in Akihabara.

You reached for a copy of a collectible bullet-hell cute-'em-up (near-mint! CIB!!!) and accidentally bonked hands with a complete stranger. He flinched about five million feet away from you. Ouch. You're just a nobody, quirkless and average, but you didn't think you were THAT repulsive.

(You're not. Hell, even if you were, this guy couldn't care less. He barely registers that you have a face.)

(Shigaraki is accustomed to getting in and out of this shop in seconds. He always comes in before anyone else and goes straight home. -- Is that really home? Is 'home' a real place? -- ANYWAY he's already pirated this shit, god, why does he even care? He doesn't need to be here. Father doesn't like it. Is that why he's here? Just to do something Father doesn't like? That's pathetic.)

He's had at least ten complete internal arguments with himself before he so much as looks at you.

You know in the tenth of a second he actually meets your eyes... this fucker is going to fight you to the death over this game.

- - - The death match ends in a draw. He was not expecting you to know the first fucking thing about this game. Nobody knows about it, even in Japan. Who the fuck do you even think you are? Oh, no, he's still taking it. But... maybe he can show you how to play it it. He'll give you a little taste, just to make you jealous. He's got his hoodie pulled down like he's going to commit an act of terrorism. What little you can see of his face looks twitchy and messed up. If you have any survival instincts at all, they're kicking in right about now. But... why not. You're not going anywhere with this dude unsupervised, so you suggest a crowded web cafe down the street. The cafe has the necessary console... but the retro gaming booth is laughably small. The TV is about four inches across and you end up having to practically sit in his lap. You were sure this guy was a nasty fucking creep, but he's................ only mostly terrible. Way too angry, for sure. Has no idea how to have a normal, friendly conversation. Inadvertently insults you every other sentence and seems to have a deep-seated persecution complex.

You'd prefer to be mad about the awful company, but... he's obviously deprived of human contact. When it's established that you two share a lot of media fixations, he calms down and starts treating you a little more like a human being. Or at least like a fellow elite.

Wherever he came from, he doesn't seem to want to go back. He keeps pushing you to play one more level, pretending he wants to beat your score. You feel kinda bad for him. You get the distinct feeling that his life is a disaster. He looks like he's never had a full night of sleep in his life. He trips your trigger hairs in that 'is he gonna follow me home?' kind of way, but... up close, he's a lot more depressing than scary. At the very least, you want to buy him a stupidly cute dessert. Just... as thanks. For letting you try out the game and stuff. It's not a big deal, so just pick a flavor, okay? The world isn't actually that awful, y'know.

It's not even that impressive... Definitely not a great cafe. But he takes practically a full hour to eat a single slice of strawberry cake.

When the hoodie comes down. He's all shriveled and dried out, like someone left him him in the desert to die. He chews on his peeling bottom lip and nervously scratches his neck. He doesn't thank you for the cake. Which is fine. It's not a big deal. Actually, you wish he would eat faster; you feel weirdly responsible for him now.

Under all that mess he's... gorgeous? His hair is stunning: a bright, gleaming silver that catches the light. His bone structure is flawless. If it weren't for all the scars and the misanthropic slouch, he'd look like a fairy fucking prince.

You were not prepared for that. In another life he could have been a model, the type of guy who would never even look at you. But something bad happened to him. Something... very bad. Do you even want to know? You have no idea how to ask. Has anyone ever been nice to him? It doesn't seem like it. Should YOU be nice to him? You sort of want to try. - - - This becomes a regular thing. This weird little secret. You should probably tell someone when you see him, just in case you don't come back one day, but you say nothing; how the hell would you explain why you want to see him so bad? You don't know his full name. Maybe he's on a watch list. When he gives you a long string of random numbers so you can schedule meet-ups (is THAT his e-mail, really?) he tells you to just... call him Tenko. Or whatever. It doesn't matter. (He sneaks out when Father is deep in his plots. As long as he comes home on time, it doesn't really matter where he goes, right?) He brings a different game every time. He has an insane collection. Where does he get the money for all this? You know he doesn't work. God, is it drugs? It's probably drugs. Wherever these hidden gems came from, he proudly shows them off to you, like he's never had an audience before. It's sort of cringe-inducing, the way he one-ups and rubs every little victory in your face, desperate for attention.

But at the same time, you are becoming too... something...to mind. Do you... like him? He's not funny, but he thinks you are. His mouth is huge when he laughs. He seems to hate everyone but you, and you've had to earn the distinction of being merely tolerable. Still, he gets really excited about random shit like the garage kit black market and haunted dolls and the price of weed on the dark web.

And... strawberry cake. The realization hits you both at the same time when the waitress brings one piece with two forks. God, what the fuck, are you... are you dating? Quick, think. You look forward to seeing him, and don't even mind sitting close to him anymore. Sometimes you push your leg up against him just to see if he'll still flinch away... and he doesn't.

You jealously notice the way he touches everything but you: with delicate precision, one finger at a time. His large, elegant hands always have a pinky up like he's aspiring for a fiefdom, and you wonder what his skin feels like. You go home and dwell on the way he plucks flowering weeds out of the pavement in front of the cafe. The way he stands rooted to the spot as you leave, just... looking at nothing, unsmiling.

You watch his lips too much, and not just because you want to buy him chapstick. You catch him gaping at you all the time. You thought he was just creepy like that, but maybe... Yeah. I guess you are dating him. Shit. - - - Okay, so, yeah. Bringing him back to your place was definitely a bad idea. You know you shouldn't trust him, even if he is... apparently... your boyfriend? Sort of? You still don't have his phone number. So. Um. What now? You order overpriced pizza and queue up a campy horror movie. What the fuck are you even doing. You don't really think he's going to murder you anymore, but... still. Is the suburban massacre scene gonna give him ideas? Turns out, no. He doesn't like gore, even when the blood is neon pink. He gets upset. Like, really upset. Shaky and green, like he might puke on you. He can't stop scratching that scaly spot on his neck.

Tenko, are you crying? Fucking hell, did you just trigger him? Of course he has a traumatic past, it's carved all over his face. You're so fucking stupid. You don't know how to make it right. You want to hug him, kiss him... anything. But he's never really touched you, and you're too afraid to push now. It ruins the whole night. He leaves without explaining anything. Doesn't even say goodbye. He just. Leaves. Maybe you'll never see him again. Maybe that's for the best. Your chest hurts. - - - He shows up at your door a few weeks later. You haven't heard from him since that disastrous movie night. You had pretty much accepted that you'd broken up with a boyfriend you never actually had. But no. Apparently not.

This time, he’s brought his own entertainment. He's holding a boxed set of some show you're not familiar with. You're distracted by these weird little half-gloves he's wearing, like a cyberpunk hacker. That's a new look, and even if it's a bit edgelord adjacent, he makes it look cool. You tell him as much. It's the first time you've let on how attractive you find him. He's wearing a tight black shirt with a deep, deep V-neck. That's distracting too.

He clears his slender throat and doesn't look at you.

You try to apologize for before, but he's acting like it never happened. What are you even talking about? Have you seen this OVA or not? Get out of the way and let him in already. You've watched three episodes now, but you still have no idea what this stupid anime is about. You can't pay attention to a single frame. All you can think about is how his arm has crept up behind your shoulders. A few inches more and he'll be holding you. Does he... want to hold you? You lean toward him so slowly your spine creaks. One molecule at a time. After a thousand years, your head slides nervously under his chin. His arm comes down, locking you in, fingers clutching your sleeve in a death grip. Even that snobby little pinky. His head tucks down into you hair. A sharp collarbone bites into your cheek. His heartbeat is hard, fast, and irregular. There's not a scrap of fat on him, and as you wrap your arm around his stomach, you think you see a twitch in his pants. Is that just you being desperate? Or... hopeful? This is really happening. --- Soon, you learn that Tenko is a clumsy kisser. It doesn't matter; the fact that he's kissing you at all is good enough for now. His lips are dry, but not half as dry as you expected. There's a slick of menthol helping things along; he's been using something medicated on his lips. Plus, his mouth tastes like he drank a gallon of mouthwash.

All this thrills you more than a little, because it means he came here wanting to impress you. Wanting you. Full stop. Underneath that minty sting is a strange, worrisome aftertaste, like something rotten. Your brain fires off an alarm. Stop kissing him. Right now. This thing will make you sick. But his hands nervously slide over your body... and you decide not to worry about it. Instead, you kiss him deeper. He makes a sweet, startled little noise. Your brain is a fucking liar. It occurs to you he's probably never done this before.

When you lace your fingers in his and try to pull one of his gloves off, he rips his hand away.

Don't. That’s the only explanation he gives.

No need to ask if it's a quirk thing or a trauma thing. Judging by how jittery he gets, it's probably both. You remember the way his hands almost float over objects without ever holding them. Maybe his touch is dangerous. Maybe that's why his face looks like that.

Maybe you should learn more about him before things go way too far...

No. It can't be that bad. Now that he's in your arms, everything frightening about him evaporates. He's vulnerable. He's alone. He's shaking a little. Has anyone else ever seen this side of him? You want to keep him all to yourself, just like this.

So what if he has to touch you with gloves on? You've heard of worse quirk-related inconveniences.

It's okay, Tenko. Do you want to keep going?

You put his hands back on you and wait for him to kiss you again. It doesn't take long.

---

You open his pants. He's long and thin, calloused even here. Every part of him feels untouched, unloved. You hold him tight and squeeze.

It doesn't seem to occur to him to please you in return. He looks afraid. Confused. You're sure you scared him earlier with the glove thing. Is this too much? No. He gasps and leans into you. The tiniest, broken please.

He cums in your hand right away, face buried in your shoulder, his eyes wet and hidden.

I have to go, he says. Over and over and over.

It's okay, Tenko.

You know he doesn't want to.

- - - - - (oops I wrote more)

#Shigaraki #Shigaraki Tomura #Shimura Tenko #Shigaraki x reader #Shigaraki x you #Shigaraki x y/n #gender neutral reader #shigaraki headcanons #mha #bnha #fred writes

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