#the first one i checked out was living books' little monster goes to school

[mikurulucky]

Went out snooping for some lil windows 95 era kiddie games that are either in French or have French as a language option. Kinda surprised to find as many as I have.

Playing through one of the Living Books titles in French makes me feel like a five year old again. Right down to the "can't understand what you said, it sounds like gibberish" moments I always had back then. Especially when watching movies. XD

[spencer-reids-adventures]

if and when you have the time and brain space I would love to see your take on emily trying to get an adhd diagnosis (preferably with jemily or just gen! bonus if reid can help her out a little)

Spencer shows up at Emily’s house to pick her up for a film festival, and she answers the door half dressed, eyes wide and frantic. Spencer can see into the living room, where here TV is on, the laptop is open on the coffee table, and two books and a kindle are laid out on the couch.

“I’m so sorry,” Emily groans. “I thought I had more time, and then I forgot where I put the shirt I wanted to wear, and then I got distracted by this video of a guy cleaning a really gross carpet, and—”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Spencer says calmly. “Even if we miss the first film, we can just catch the next one. That’s why it’s a film festival. No worries.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Emily mutters as she stalks back to her bedroom to finish getting dressed. “I can’t ever seem to get my shit together.”

“Nothing’s wrong with you,” Spencer says. “Has it always been this way for you?”

“Yeah, I guess. I mean, I’ve always been, you know…flaky.” She grimaces when she says the word, as though it tastes bad in her mouth. 

Spencer frowns. “Have you ever been tested for ADHD?”

Emily freezes with her sweater half on and stares at Spencer.

“Of course not,” she scoffs. “I did great in school, despite everything.”

“That doesn’t mean much. You could still have it. It would explain a lot.”

“I don’t need to make excuses for my behavior, Spence. I’m flaky, that’s just how I am. I’ll probably always be like this. I just have to deal with that.”

“Do you have a therapist?” 

“Yes.”

“Consider bringing it up to them,” Spencer says. “Just consider it. Okay?”

They eventually make it to the film festival, and Emily puts it out of her mind…until later that night, when it pops back into her consciousness. And despite her reluctance, she follows Spencer’s advice. She considers it.

A week later, she brings it up to her therapist and he agrees to do a screening with her. Before she knows it, she’s being referred to an outside clinic for ADHD testing.

She feels silly walking into the building. She’s a grown woman, not a hyperactive 10-year-old boy. If there is something wrong with her, it should have been caught earlier, when she was a child. She doesn’t belong here. She doesn’t need this. She should leave—

There’s a chirp from her pocket and she pulls out her phone to check her texts. There’s one waiting, from Spencer.

Hope everything goes well today. I’m proud of you.

She sighs, puts the phone back into her pocket, and decides not to leave.

A few days later, she meets with someone at the clinic for a follow-up appointment where they tell her that they are, in fact, diagnosing her with ADHD. The clinician talks about what that means, and her next steps, and asks if she has any questions, but all Emily can do is try not to cry.

All of those things she’s struggled with, all the missed appointments, the lack of focus, being late all the time, all the shame and frustration and anger and disappointment…

How does she reconcile the fact that it wasn’t actually her fault? How is she supposed to accept that maybe she’s not a monster, a terrible person, a bad partner? Her whole paradigm has been shifted, and she doesn’t know how to deal with it.

She shows up on Spencer’s doorstep that night with a bottle of wine and tear tracks on her cheeks.

“Come in,” Spencer says immediately, as if he’d been expecting her. He walks her to the couch and gets her settled with a soft blanket and a box of tissues. He pours her a glass of wine and then snuggles up next to her on the couch with a glass of orange juice and his own soft blanket. 

“Sorry,” Emily mutters.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Spencer promises. “Do you want to talk about it, or would you rather not think about it right now?”

Emily shrugs. “It’s just so much,” she says. “I don’t… I don’t know.”

“I’m here for whatever you need, Em. But I need you to know that it’s going to be okay. I know it feels like a lot has changed, but you’re still you. And now you can get the help you’ve always needed. You know?”

“I know,” Emily whispers. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

[substituted-shinigami]

Bleach Book Club - Letters From The Other Side

Welcome to Bleach Book Club, where we discuss Bleach Books! Today we are going over the first Bleach light novel, Letters From the Other Side!

Non-spoilery description:

The book description of this story is: It is a novelization of the early chapters of the Bleach manga. Now I’ve read very little of the manga, mostly just watched the anime, so I don’t know if that is true. However I can say for sure that this story did not appear in the anime. Rather than “monster of the week”, like many of the early episodes of Bleach are, it is a “slice of life” story about a lazy sunday at the Kurosaki Household. Rukia makes fun of Ichigo for being "such a hard worker" and studying on the weekend. Ichigo makes fun of Rukia for sleeping in so late and forgetting they have a test LITERALLY TOMORROW, at which point Rukia freaks out, and hijinks ensue. It’s great! Please check it out if you haven’t already, but for those who just need/want a quick summary, here you go!

Spoilery description:

It’s Sunday at the Kurosaki household so that means no school and the clinic is closed. Everyone is eating a leisurely breakfast, except for Ichigo who has to quickly eat in order to bring breakfast to Rukia in secret. When he gets there, despite the fact that he’s two hours later than he normally would be on a school morning, Rukia is still fast asleep, and doesn’t wake up until he knocks. He makes fun of her for this, but Rukia is too happy about receiving food (especially if that food is a cucumber and ham sandwich) to be too mad about it. When she sees Ichigo studying at his desk, she teases him for being such a hard worker for studying on such a nice day. At which point he turns around and says she must be easygoing to not study for their test tomorrow. Rukia says that written tests don’t matter, only practical exams do, and asks when those are. Ichigo says they don’t have any, at which point Rukia freaks out. Turns out if she gets bad marks and has to stay after school, she’ll miss her favorite anime. She demands Ichigo teaches her how to study, but he says he’s too busy studying for the tests (I believe they are midterms?) himself. Kon calls Ichigo heartless, but Rukia agrees Ichigo shouldn’t have to help her, and after changing in the closet, leaves for the library. After she leaves, Kon reminds Ichigo that Rukia is from another world, and therefore legitimately doesn’t know how things work here and probably actually needs help, despite what she says. After some more “Kon hijinks” that results in Ichigo removing his pill so that he can study in peace, he thinks about Rukia’s predicament, sighs, and gives one of his friends a call.

After leaving Ichigo’s house, Rukia runs into Orihime and Tatsuki. When asked where she’s headed, she just mentions she’s going to the library to study. They ask her if she wants to study with them, but due to needing to go to Urahara’s as well, she declines. Orihime then offers Rukia her notes, but Tatsuki says that despite Orihime being very smart, her notes are completely nonsensical. Tatsuki then apologizes and says that her notes are all over the place, but that if Rukia has extra time, she can always come by her house later to study. As the girls leave, Rukia thinks about how nice they are.

Unfortunately, the translation I read was missing the next chapter where Rukia goes to the library, but I think she runs into Keigo and Mizuiro? She tries to hide from them, but fails.

Anyway, the next chapter has Ichigo meeting up with Chad, apparently the only one in their friend group with actually good notes. In fact, Chad’s notes are so good that they have helped Ichigo improve in some of his classes in the past. Anyway, Chad gives him a notebook and asks if Ichigo is using them for himself. Ichigo lies and says he is (since he can’t tell him about Rukia living in his closet), and Chad immediately realizes the truth, but is nice enough not to say anything. They then part ways.

In the last chapter, Ichigo gives Rukia the notes when she returns to the house. He explains they are from Chad, and that even if she crams, she should be able to get by. She thanks him genuinely before disappearing into the closet to study.

My thoughts:

Let me start off by saying, I really love this book. I enjoyed the slice of life feel, and I was really able to connect to the characters. I have been both the Ichigo and the Rukia when it comes to waking others up/being woken up in the morning. I am ABSOLUTELY NOT a morning person, and neither are my siblings, so sometimes I'm the one and other times I am the other. Also, food 100% makes the process better! 10/10 would recommend. Also, I know this is personal, but I love that the Kurosaki family water down their juices. As someone else who grew up with multiple siblings, watering down the juice is a great way to make it last longer, so that was a nice detail. Lastly, I will love this book and Tite Kubo forever for giving us bedhead Rukia art! She is adorable, and I love her with all my heart!

Moving on to the rest of the story, I like that we get to see Rukia interact with some of the other characters too! Rukia is pretty walled off emotionally during the Soul Society Arc, so it's nice to see her inner dialogue when talking to characters like Orihime and Tatsuki. Poor girl, she really liked them, but was scared to get too close! She wasn't of this world after all…

I like the bit of lore we get about Chad and Ichigo’s history too! I like how it builds out their early relationship beyond just "fighting bros".

And in the end, Ichigo gives Rukia the notes because he is a chump, I mean, a really nice guy! (Despite his attempts to appear otherwise, lol!) And Rukia shows honest gratitude despite her SS Arc tsundere tendencies! All in all, a good end to a good book!

Things I learned about the characters:

Ichigo: His family's clinic is closed every Sunday. I always assumed it was an emergency room, and that they were open 24/7! Also, I think this novel is a good reminder that Ichigo doesn't just help out his friends by fighting. He does little things like this too!

Rukia: I always assumed she wasn't a morning person, but this definitely confirms it! Best bedhead, 10/10! I wanted to hug her so bad! I would argue, however, that despite this, she is a very light sleeper since she wakes up on the first knock. Considering her background, both in Rukongai and as a soldier, this makes sense. Also, Rukia, even though you are my favorite character, and I love you, you would make (and technically did make) a terrible roommate! But hey, this does mean she makes great roommate/found family sitcom material! Get this woman a show! (Oh wait!) Anyway, as what was implied by Canon, Rukia is a terrible written test taker, but could probably apply the principles well enough.

Orihime: Is a genius, and just like all geniuses, her notes are illogical to the average person, or shinigami in this case! Also, I wouldn't be surprised if Orihime sort of figured out that Rukia was going through some stuff, not just physically (what with the supernatural battles and all), but also emotionally. Orihime is a nice person who loves making friends, but getting turned down by someone you barely know rarely upsets someone this much. Add that on to what we know of Orihime's past, and I wouldn't be surprised if she figured out that Rukia was severely depressed and was hiding it from everyone, including Ichigo. I think it would be interesting to see Orihime's perspective of Rukia during the Soul Society Arc.

Tatsuki: Her notes are also very bad! Haha! I'm still mad Rukia didn’t take her up on her offer of coming over to study. I WANT TO SEE THESE THREE GIRLS IN A STUDY GROUP TOGETHER!

Chad: The only character out of the entire story who has good, legible notes. Good on you, Chad! I know it feels weird to bring up Renji in a story where he doesn't show up, but if he was as good a test taker as his academy days backstory suggests, then I think he and Chad would make good study buddies!

Kon: Despite Kon being uh… Kon, I like how this story reminds us that this guy is pretty insightful too. Really wish the original story did more with his character.

Final thoughts:

Definitely check this story out if you get a chance! It’s a lot of fun and it’s always nice seeing these characters in such a chill setting. I love them all so much, and think they should all get an apartment together in a college style/found family AU asap! (Oh, look, a drabble!)

Anyways, thank you for reading!

Sources

Story: https://www.wattpad.com/122235261-bleach-letters-from-the-other-side-letters-from

Art: https://imgur.com/a/bYWlb

[magiwou-meowvin]

okay @kohakhearts I just used the generator so this is the crack fic you received

fic under the cut

Slade gets a lot of weird contracts. Part of being the Best in the Biz™ is that all the absolutely insane shit that the small fries can't handle gets sent to him—and the shit the small fries can't handle is either way above their paygrade (re: sometimes he gets paid to murder actual gods) or it's just too weird to be taken seriously by those who haven't been around long enough.

Not Slade tho. Slade has seen some shit. Done some shit too, but that's neither here nor there. The point is that that only Slade could be contracted to murder—checks notes—possessed, killer animatronic robots for a childrens pizza joint.

He cannot make this shit up.

But the pay is good, and destroying a robot cant be that different from killing a live target, and he's bored as hell because he hasn't been able to torment a teenager or his kids in a while, so why not?

The pizza joint, Freddy Faxbears Pizza, is downright grody. Is this place still operable? It shouldnt be if it is. It's a walking healthcode violation, and that's not even including the murderbots he's about to turn into murderedbots.

Slade draws his sword and starts sweeping the place. He had to access Freddy's from a skylight in the office, which, according to his blueprints, is furthest from the stage rooms where the animatronics should be, provided they're not wondering around. The office itself is clear, so he moves into the hallway, checks the closet, and then heads into the kitchen.

The kitchen is where things get a little dicey though.

He follows his normal sweeping procedure, but when he walks past one of the counters, he notices a strange book on the counter.

Death Note, it's titled, no author listed.

Idly, Slade picks it up, wondering if maybe there's some intel in it that could be useful. Instead, he finds a long list of overly complicated middle school burn book type instructions.

“Useless,” he mutters and tosses it over his shoulder and onto the ground.

“Well that's rude,” someone says behind him.

Before they can even finish the sentence, he's swinging his sword sword sword, his (not)diamond sword directly at the figure—

Only for his sword to go right through.

“Motherfucking ghosts and shit,” he curses and swings again.

“Now, hey, that's not nice :(“ the goth ghost says. He seems very unperturbed by the whole thing.

“Didn't try to cut your head off to make friends,” Slade points out and tries swinging again. Every strike just goes straight through this guy though. Nothing at all like the animatronics he was contracted to kill.

Probably for the best actually that this thing isn't one of the attractions. It's an absolute horror show.

“You're not what I'm here for,” he moves to go around the thing.

“Hey wait!” it shouts. “You forgor your notebook!”

Slade glances back at the selfproclaimed Death Note, then hefts his sword up so the monster can see it clearly. “Don't need it.”

“B-b-b-b-but—”

Slade doesn’t stick around to listen.

After the kitchen is more hallway. He gets, like, two steps in that fucked up ghost guy materializes through the wall and in his way. “Listen buddy,” it grumbles even as it's face stays pulled in that rigour mortis grin. “You're the first human to actually go through the building in a long time. Do you have any idea how long I've been stuck here?” he shouts.

“Don't care,” he steps around the creature again.

The thing grumbles and follows behind with its massive wings. “You're a killer, yeah? I can tell. I'm a shinigami. Well that notebook will let you kill with nothing but a name and face! Think about it! You could get your jobs done in a fraction of the time!”

Just then, a giant, robot chicken lurches from around the corner with thundering steps. Slade casts the shinigami a look, then calmly asks, “Hey, what's your name?”

The chicken does not respond. Slade holds out his sword and lets it run into it, then disembowel its metal guts.

It falls to the ground easily.

The next three robots go much the same, and not a single one offers up its name.

“There. I dont need your notebook,” he says smugly and saunters towards the exit.

“I'll admit, that was entertaining,” the shinigami says. Slade gets the impression the creature is grinning even wider somehow.

“Happy to help,” he says sarcastically. He reaches the front door and tries to open it, but nothing happens. “Weird.” He turns to go back through the building to use the skylight again.

“Wait, you forgot the notebook!” the shinigami protests as Slade pulls the desk under the light. “Even if you dont use it for killing, you can use it to extort others, or manipulate their every move prior to their death! You could sell it even!”

That…could be useful, he supposes, but it also takes all the fun out of murdering and tormenting. “Eh, I'll pass.”

The shinigami growls like a feral dog. “Fine!” he yells and pulls out his own notebook. “This is the end of you, Slade Wilson!”

“That wont work on me,” Slade points out. He hops on top the desk.

“What?” he yells. “Why not?”

Slade shrugs. “I once came back from the dead because I caught leprosy post-mortem, and this place is a massive healthcode violation. I'll just heal again.”

Then Slade pulls himself out the window before the shinigami realizes that that shit doesn't apply once he's out of the building.

[sugar-petals]

can you give us more thoughts about domestic yoongles? the taemin's one (wich I love) just made me miss the cat boy so much ;o;

i have a phd in househusband yoongi so let me fire out some ideas for ya.

myg at home headcanon

🐱 word count. 1.9k | fluff, slice of life, slight nsfw mentions, x reader, bullet points

The doorbell sound is a recording of Yoongi imitating a doorbell. He’s such a meme. Ceci n'est pas une pipe.

Seemingly, he teaches himself a new recipe every week. To perfection. Yoongi is very particular about sticking to the recipe and wielding his kitchen tools in the right way. He collects knives, olive oil, and still hates cutting onions.

He separates sleep time, work time, and couple time as the holy trinity. For each, he switches his mood.

Blushes easily no matter for how long you’ve been together.

Establishes his own radio show where he DJs at one point.

Yoongi keeps an extreme track on the garbage schedule. He knows exactly what is due when. Separating the trash is a must. That includes sorting out fake friends trying to get between your relationship. Your social circle as a couple is extremely deliberate.

Yoongi deems himself a terrible host for guests. Unless Hoseok is there to drag him out, it's true he rather stays in the kitchen or at the barbecue preparing the menu courses rather than making small talk. He leaves the hospitality bits to you, however you want to go about it.

What he lacks in conversing with guests, he makes up in bed, God is absolutely fair.

He sings and hums pretty often and has his own vernacular of extraterrestrial uwu noises. It's an alphabet that you have to yet decipher but it's incredibly cute.

Self-made paintings everywhere around his house. 

Yoongi hasn't gone clubbing since grammar school. The most he does is going to a restaurant at lunch with very close friends. And always in a work context. His private life is so secluded from everything else and paparazzi just don't spot him anywhere, Dispatch thinks he must live abroad.

Very well, he does consider his big ole house a separate country. It's a living organism with a studio, gym, trophy room, small-size basketball court, and vastly equipped kitchen. A home theater as well, he likes American movies (like Inception) and Korean action genres, and you can stream whatever you fancy in there whenever you like. 

Yes, he has underwear with cute little bears on.

There's even a little pond in the backyard. Yoongi, Pisces he is, likes fishes after all. Sometimes he sits at the edge of the 'Little Ole Min Lake (LOML)' and stares into the water for literal hours with his chin parked on his palm.

His fridge is so high-tech and futuristic, even Yoongi is rendered clueless by its AI sometimes. The washing machine, too.

Yoongi watches RuPaul’s drag race. What did you expect? He finds it so humorous.

Owns lord knows how many comic collections.

Favorite holiday destination: New York.

Christmas is basically 50% you unveiling new music equipment to him in the garage and Yoongi almost fainting at the sexiness of it. The other 50% is spent holding hands and orgasm after orgasm until the new year since you loose track of time.

Goes on long rants why he’d marry you again every weekend.

Making you presents is his specialty. Always accompanied with a hand-written note. He writes a lot of things by hand for you in general. Texting, basically never. Always on paper.

No sex without a blanket and socks on. Yoongi gets cold very very easily and just doesn’t like showing skin. You buy him a heated blanket for his birthday, he even uses it in his studio chair.

Chronically addicted to making out.

Matching black outfits and glasses.

Laughs at even your worst jokes or phrases you didn’t expect you even uttered.

Yoongi owns the phoniest, most secretive-looking black car ever and nobody knows about it. Even he forgets he owns it, in fact he genuinely acts like it just doesn’t exist. Hilarious. And that guy has a level 1 Korean driver's license. Which allows him to drive trailers and busses and fucking trucks, and construction machines, let that sink in.

It's really a genius curse. Yoongi being put to the test will always deliver but he won't choose to execute his full skillset if he doesn't have to. Well, pragmatic. He's not as phony as he thinks he is, which is even more hilarious.

He uses that behemoth of a car so scarcely because he'd rather have things delivered to his doorstep and he's stingy with gas. Also, he doesn't like traffic and driving because of the traumatic shoulder accident and his tendency to space out. Translation: You drive that thing... that monster... it really is an impressive, fast, and scary machine. 

If someone devious ever even remotely manages to invade his privacy and get past the doubly-installed security system, he has enough money to deal with it no matter what.

If it concerns your privacy, he's a red belt. And owns Jin's number if a taekwondo master is required. Jimin's if it needs someone with kendo skills.

If Yoongi needs someone to go on a complete rampage, Jungkook lives just down the block. He can sprint to Yoongi's bunker I mean mansion within 45 seconds. 30 if it's very urgent. 20 if the reward is an instant ramen splurge with Yoongi's black card.

He has a sexy, glamorous sword collection hanging on the living room wall anyways, so. Who the hell is dumb enough to mess with him and his expensive lawyer in the first place.

But just in case, who knows... Yoongi settles matters shruggingly, anonymously, and with cash and he's too exhausted for violence, but don't underestimate his deter-min-ation and network for emergencies. Also, he is Agust D after all.

He will bonk a naughty burglar or kidnapper across the head with a wooden cooking spoon or take him down by throwing a basketball if the situation requires it. Damn, his reflexes are so fast, a feral cat in motion. So, lean back and sip on your drink of choice. Things are cared for.

If Yoongi is the one being kidnapped or a highly skilled stalker invades the property at night when he's fast asleep (nothing can wake this man during certain hours, strong REM right here): Don't forget that honeyboy is a Dodgers fan. There are signed baseball bats everywhere in this damn house.

In that sense, your parents visiting you here for the first time thought you were an undercover thug couple. Not to worry mom and dad, you both just like sports very much okay.

Yoongi walks around in all black clothes and the rooms are all seemingly dark. Even if you live together, you don't know his skin care routine. It's clear to you he's some sort of vampire.

Since Yoongi always forgets to remove his makeup, you made it a habit to wipe it down when he's about to pass out. He won't lie, he enjoys that kind of affection.

Holly is your resident child. You're essentially a family.

He insists to tackle this by himself, Yoongi sees his therapist monthly. Not shifting responsibility is something he's stubborn about and he pours his emotions into writing. You will do conversation about deeper stuff, but he says it's mostly up to him and his own mind. He dislikes burdening you or opening up too much and it's something to respect rather than force him about. If he wants to share a thought, he will. It doesn’t mean he can’t trust you or sucks at communicating (we know that he’s direct). Yoongi simply can’t put that much pain in such few words nor should you alleviate it for him.

Calls from the manager faze Yoongi as much as Jimin is bothered by gravity. If he’s busy kissing your body slow mo, who the hell dares to disturb his worship. 

This man had so many let-downs and interpersonal catastrophes in his life, he's super discerning with people. Because he rolls that way, during their first meeting Yoongi uses his psychology certificate on your friends. You see him squint at them, he listens very closely. After they pass the vibe check aka meow radar, he befriends them, too.

Yoongi doodles Grammy trophies everywhere to manifest them.

Yoongi shaves his legs.

All the sex toys he’s ever bought are black. Gotta vibe in style.

He spends ridiculous amounts of time in the studio but he's yours for the remainder of the night, breakfast, and he makes a lavish lunch and dinner.

Um, consider his head parked between your legs. The Hongkong line was not a joke.

Doesn’t mind you squishing his cheeks whenever and for how long you like. 

Every other weekend he gets flowers, vouchers, and gifts — not because of fans, they don’t know where his house is, but because he donates so much.

Namjoon often drops by and cleanses the area with his crystals.

Yoongi is a photography major so you can ask him to take professional, ceiling-high black and white shots of you.

Feeding each other food lovingly. Man, this guy got lips.

He set up a library just for you, in the exact historical aesthetic you like the most. Send him the link to any book you want, it's basically in the online shopping cart already. As I said, he wants to make you presents like every week.

Sometimes he sits on the other end studying English videos and vocab while you read. And yes, he's already 95% fluent but pretends being merely intermediate. He knows technical terms even native speakers have never heard of.

He collects pajamas and earrings.

Swears on the phone.

Namjoon being the horniest member is a cover-up story. Yoongi masturbates almost unreasonable amounts of times, by himself and in your arms when going to bed. Not gonna lie, it’s a sight to see his hands at work. He’s almost equally obsessed with fingering you once you ask him.

Yoongi was the one asking you to move in and almost had a nervous meltdown before meeting up with you to tell you just that. 

He’s the little spoon and of course a sleeping burrito to hold tight.

Finds you equally attractive in any state or styling. Yoongi practices what he preaches, he always reacts the same and says the same. 

Jams out to outrageous beats Namjoon sends him by dancing in the studio. You walk in on him every time. Was embarrassed at first, now you dance along.

Has bought you a life-sized Yoongi pillow and customized you a giant Shooky to hug when he’s not at home over night.

Owned a wine cellar until he quit drinking. Turned it into a piano room instead.

Only you know Yoongi has a serpent and dagger tattoo.

Scrubs the bathroom religiously.

The house smells like restaurant food and his extravagant perfumes half of the time.

Sometimes he has to remind himself he’s married to you and not his coffee machine. He shall be forgiven. You can’t complain that he doesn’t love you enough, nor is he ever not adorable when drinking his latte.

Never wears short sleeves. It can be scorching and he’ll wear a jacket. 

Tell him and the cap stays on during sex.

He grows his hair out and puts it in a low bun. The bangs remain.

Yoongi has installed the most fire-proof building in the entire city it seems. That he wanted to be a firefighter when he was young definitely shows. Figures the house has to be protected from heat: His blasting studio music and Yoongi himself are just way too sizzling.

Still melts into a puddle when you kiss his nose.

Couple sunrise watching. 

© submissive-bangtan 2017-2021. all rights reserved. do not repost or translate. all depictions fictional.

[inkandpen22]

Dazed and Confused (S1: 2/?)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Female!Reader

Warnings: mild langage 

Word Count: 2k

Part Summary: After Steve spends the night at Y/N Jonathan Byers accuses Y/N of getting too close to her best friend’s boyfriend

Masterlist

I wake up to a banging on my door. It sounds like an uncontrollable jackhammer. 

“Y/N! Oh Princess Y/N!” My mom screeches on the other side. “Wake up! You have to pick up Dustin in thirty minutes!” 

The last bit grabs my attention. My eyes fly open and I attempt to sit up but I’m pinned down. My head whips to the side and Steve is sound asleep next to me. His arm is draped across my stomach keeping me pinned. In a rush, I shove him off of me and fly out of bed. Steve wakes up abruptly and falls off the mattress onto the floor with a thud. 

“Shit!” He blurts out. 

“What was that?” My mom asks worriedly. 

Wide-eyed, I stare down Steve who peers up at me from the floor. 

“I’m just getting ready! I’ll be out in five!” I shout to my little brother. 

Thankfully, I hear him patter off as he grumbles various curse words under his breath. 

I must look like a crazy lady as I run around my room getting ready. My hair is going in a ponytail today because there’s no way I have time to style it. Steve moves about me, collecting his things. It’s Friday so that makes picking out an outfit rather easy. It’s game day, so cheer uniform. I start changing from my pajamas into my cheer uniform. I hop on one leg as I remove my shorts and rush to grab my skirt off my dresser. As I slip off my t-shirt and change into my vest, I check my appearance in the mirror on my dresser. 

Behind me, Steve eyes me curiously. He appears in some sort of wide-eyed daze. 

I whip my head around to check on him. “You okay?” 

He hums absentmindedly. Then, he shakes his head repeatedly to snap how of it. “Yeah! Uh… it’s just… um… you…” he stammers, “uh…. Nevermind! I’ll see you in a little bit,” he says as he goes to climb out of my window. 

“Okay? Catch ya later.” I laugh, wondering why he’s acting so odd. 

He’s such a goofball. I wonder if it’s because I freaked him out when I woke him up. Oh well, he scared me last night so karma. 

________________________________________

Once we arrive at school, Dustin runs off to join the boys who have all agreed to dress as the Ghostbusters for school. Since the Demogorgon incident, Dustin and I have grown closer. We live on the same block and being only children help. 

Nancy isn’t at her locker when I arrive at my own, odd. What’s even weirder is Jonathan is waiting for me. 

“Hey,” I greet him with a raised brow. 

It’s not that I dislike Jonathan, we’re simply not close friends. Sure, we had a bonding experience last year but he and I are very different people. 

“Hey,” he stuffs his hands into his back pockets nervously. “Have you… uh… have you seen Nancy?” 

Interesting, Byers looking for Nancy. If this were any other day she would be here beside me and I wouldn’t be standing here with Jonathan but apparently, today isn’t going to be average. 

“Nope, I haven’t. I was wondering where she is myself. Usually, she’d be here by now,” I fill him in on the lastest as I put the combination into my locker. 

“Well if you see here will you tell her I have something for her?” He requests. 

“Is it your love confession?” I tease. 

“Huh?” He acts oblivious to what I mean. 

“Oh please, it’s clear as day you have a thing for Nance," I snicker as I pull out my books. "I’ve known since Steve and I showed up at your house last year.” I glance over my shoulder at him and it’s evident I’ve spooked him. My bluntness tends to have that effect on people. "Look,” I say gently and quietly between us. “I won’t say anything. I understand that she’s with Steve. So, you feel like there’s no point but it’s important to say how you feel and be honest.” 

"Just like how you’re honest with Steve about having a thing for him?” He boldly fires back. 

I scoff, he’s delusional! Me and Steve, really? There’s no way! I laugh, “I don’t have a-” 

“Really? Yesterday in the gym?” He challenges.

His question, more like a threat, takes me by surprise. What, so Jonathan is watching me now? He’s eavesdropping on my conversations? 

 “How about over the summer?” He presses further, stepping closer until he towers over me. “You two were together more than he and Nancy ever were! How about this morning when I was on my way to school and saw him climbing out of your window? Hm? How about that?” 

Okay, now I’m just getting pissed. “I can assure you, Steve loves Nancy!” I growl. “There’s is nothing, and I mean nothing, between us! Now I suggest you stop acting like a tough guy before I remind you who really holds all the power here,” I threaten him. 

He forgets that I’m the captain of the cheer squad. I’m adored around here. He’s some punk who hangs out all day in the photography classroom. If he really wishes to test me, I can promise I will win. I always win. 

“Fine then…” he mutters, mere inches from my face. “But remember, I could easily tell Nancy about last summer.” 

He steps back with narrowed eyes locked on me until he turns around to slip away. I watch, stunned, as he disappears into the cluster of students traveling about the hall. A bit disturbed, to say the least, I lean back against the lockers to catch my breath. 

I don’t like Steve, that’s crazy! Steve… Steve and I… we’re just friends, really good friends, best of friends! Jonathan is psychotic and tossing out random ideas to get a rise out of me. All we did was hang out over the summer! He was already dating Nancy, my oldest friend! I would never ever betray her like that! Screw Byers. 

________________________

After last period, I return to my locker to pack up my homework. As I’m packing up my stuff, Nancy pops up next to me all distraught. She’s shaky and appears frightened, the same way she did when fighting the Demogorgon. 

“Nance? Nancy, what’s wrong? What happened?”  I ask her repeatedly, already worried.

She scans the area, making sure no one is watching us. Swiftly, she pulls into the girls bathroom. 

I stumble inside, immediately checking the stalls to make sure we’re alone. Once I determine the coast is clear, I spin around to face her. 

Her arms are wrapped around her tightly like a blanket. She swallows hard, her glazed eyes meet mine in fear. “I saw Barb!” She whispers as though she’ll be struck for doing so. 

That’s impossible. We left Barb in the Upside Down. She’s gone. She’s dead. 

“You what?” I shake my head in disbelief, pacing away from her. 

“In the library!” She explains, "I saw her! She called out for us! She said this wasn’t me! She said you were hiding! Pretending!” 

Now frightened, I whip my head around to face her directly. I note the hint of hope in her eyes that’s overpowered by guilt. I mourned Barb. We all did. I’m sorry for her parents, I am truly, but everyone is right! There’s nothing we can do! What’s done is done! All we can do is move on and live our lives! 

I refuse to relive the endless guilt, depression, and anxiety that consumed me for months on end. I felt like a shell of a human for almost a year after what happened. I can’t do this. 

“I have to go to drive Dustin home,” I announce. 

Quickly, I cross the room toward the door. I have to get out of here. This is nonsense. 

Nancy grabs my wrist before I pass her, “But Y/N-”

I yank my arm free from her grip, “goodbye Nancy!” 

Shaken for the second time today, I storm out of the bathroom and hurry toward the exit. I grip the handle of my purse, unable to control my shaky hands. Tears coat my eyes and threaten to slip down my cheeks. 

Flashbacks of that horrid night take over my train of thought. I see it clear as day. All of the blood, the sting from my arm, the pressure of that monster pinning me down. Everything I’ve been suppressing demands to be felt again. I’m living in my own personal Hell. 

As I push through the doors to the parking lot, the bright sunlight blinds me for a second. People cluster outside the school in their cliques. I weave between them, eager to get to my car and fly home. I can’t allow anyone to see me like this. I’m the strong one. I have my life together. I can’t break. 

In the distance, Dustin leans against the passenger door waiting for me. I keep telling myself that I’m almost there, just a couple of steps more. 

“Y/N-” Someone grabs my shoulder to stop me. 

Caught off guard and already distraught, I gasp and my bag slips from my shoulder to the pavement. 

I peer up to see Steve eyeing me with such compassion that I nearly slip and start sobbing. I wish I could tell him everything zooming through my mind but I can’t, it’s not his burden to bear. 

Urgently, he gathers my bag off the ground and places it on my shoulder. His hand lingers on my forearm, rubbing up and down comfortingly. I attempt to hide my shakiness by crossing my arms tightly. 

“You’re upset,” he states the obvious but I know he means well. “Are you alright?” 

I hum, nodding my head repeatedly. If I attempt to speak my voice may crack and then he’ll never let me go. Please Steve, I understand that you’re checking on me and I know you truly care but please let me go. 

“What is it?” He scrunches his eyebrows as he shifts on his heels. “Is it about Nancy? She was speaking about Barb earlier. Did she confront you about it? If it is I-” 

“Y/N!” Dustin shouts over to us impatiently. 

For once, I won’t argue with him about interrupting me. “I have to go,” I mumble under my breath and rush off before Steve has the chance to object. 

Once I’m a few feet away from Dustin, he notices my state and instantly climbs into the car without any questions. 

After I toss my bag into the backseat and move up front, I take a moment to gather myself and blast some music before I start driving. 

“Shitty day?” Dustin finally breaks the silence. 

Rubbing my temples, I snicker, “to put it simply.” 

He sighs, “Yeah, me too. First, all of the little assholes at school decide not to dress up this year. My guess is they all formed a pact and kept us out of it. It was all pretty embarrassing. Then, there’s this new girl, Max, smoking’ hot, but thinks she’s cooler than everyone else. Lucas likes her too… We followed her around for a little bit but then… well shit… she was onto us. Do you wanna talk about your day?” He offers to listen. 

I shake my head and open my eyes. Exhaling deeply, I grip the wheel and prepare to go. “No, because if I do then it will lead down a dark road that I don’t wish to travel ever again.” 

Dustin respects my silence and he talks most of the way home. I appreciate him not forcing me to speak about the horrors of today. Right now, I much rather listen and be distracted. Today was one of the worst days I’ve had in a while. At least tonight is the party. I could really use some mindless fun, risky shenanigans, and most importantly, booze. 

________________________________

Masterlist

[ibijau]

Counterfeit AU pt6 / On AO3

Meng Yao makes himself useful after losing his job, and discovers something unexpected

Names are funny things, Meng Yao thinks as he stares at the sheet of paper in his hand. 

Funny things indeed.

-

After everything that went down in the Hanshi, it's Beastie that saves Meng Yao from himself.

Left to his own devices, he would have either wallowed in misery, or waste time proving to himself that everything that happened wasn't his fault, the way he knows he's done in other lives. But when he comes home after having his past lives thrown into his face and losing a job he loves, Beastie’s mother corners him just as he puts his key into his lock. Her daughter is on school holiday, she explains, and was supposed to be looked after by a friend with children of a similar age. But one of the children came down with something contagious, so the whole plan fell through, and the poor woman now desperately needs help finding someone to look after her daughter.

She’s not asking for Meng Yao to play the babysitter, but he knows so many people, he has so many connections, maybe he could pull a favour somewhere, help her out again.

“I can take care of her for a few days,” Meng Yao offers without thinking. “I’m jobless as of today.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry! What happened?”

“My employer died,” Meng Yao replies, which is close enough to the truth. He doesn’t think Nie Huaisang will continue using his Shanzi alias after this, and they’ll never meet again. He might as well be dead. “I don’t plan on looking for a new job right away, so I can babysit for a while, it’s no big deal.”

She tries to insist that he doesn’t need to be doing that, but quickly agrees after some reassurance that Meng Yao doesn’t mind. She looks so relieved she could cry as she says she’ll drop Beastie in the morning. Meng Yao smiles, certain that his mother would be proud of him for doing what’s right.

Having Beastie around is definitely the best choice he could have made. She’s a good kid, but she’s also high energy and needs to be entertained, which means he doesn’t get to think too much about how much he misses Nie Huaisang and Lan Xichen. 

They watch movies together, as they’ve always done when he picked her up after school. They go for walks to a nearby park, and once to a museum to look at old armours and swords. He buys Beastie a fake sword, though they agree to keep it at his place, since her mother already despairs that she so strongly favours boy’s toys. In fact, Meng Yao ends up just spoiling that little girl, the way he would have loved someone to do for him when he was her age. He even has Nie Huaisang’s console repaired so she can play on it, instead of selling it as he’d intended.

The video games are a big hit with her. She’s particularly in love with the same game Nie Huaisang spent too many hours on, that weird little terraforming thing which Meng Yao can’t see the appeal of. He liked that it made Nie Huaisang happy. He likes that it also makes Beastie happy, and that she’s very careful not to ruin the work previously put into it, focused instead on maintaining it and planting flowers

“It looks like home,” she explains when Meng Yao asks about that, and lifts the console for him to see.

It doesn’t look like a homely place, he thinks, and more like a military fortress right out of a wuxia drama. But Meng Yao doesn’t get to make that remark, because his phone vibrates, demanding his attention. Beastie, sitting crossed legs on some cushion on the floor, goes back to watering virtual flowers, while Meng Yao checks some news from his bank account. A lump sum has been sent to him, a good deal more than his usual salary, coming from an account registered under a name he doesn’t recognise.

It has been a week since he was fired.

Nie Huaisang kept his promise.

It really is over.

Not that Meng Yao really doubted it. Nie Huaisang has many faults but indecision has never been one, though he’s always been good at pretending otherwise. Once his choice is made he toys with expectations but rarely ever changes his mind.

Rarely, of course, isn’t never. Meng Yao, foolishly, hoped to be one of those few exceptions. 

Those new zeroes on his bank account feel like a divorce, and he never even got a honeymoon. 

That night, Meng Yao allows himself a few hours to wallow in misery, after Beastie went back to her mother. He is only human, and it does feel good to eat take-away in front of a cheesy romance. The film's hero doesn't get the girl, who was dead all along. Meng Yao cries, even though he's seen that movie before. 

By morning, he's in control again, and takes Beastie to the park so she can run around in the sun, and scare pigeons with her sword.

Those holidays are all great fun, until Beastie’s mother reminds them that she has homework to do.

Beastie is a clever kid, there’s no doubt about it, but she doesn’t much like doing her homework, least of all when she feels she could be playing. It takes all of Meng Yao’s negotiation skills to get her to even look at her school books, and he almost resorts to bribery to make her pick up a pencil. But she works hard once she starts, and Meng Yao, wanting to encourage her, sits with her at the kitchen table to update his resume. Beastie will go back to class soon, and inactivity just isn’t in his temper.

When Beastie is done with her work, she gets permission to put on whatever movie she likes while Meng Yao checks what she’s done in case it needs correcting.

But when he picks up the sheet of simple maths she’s expected to give her teacher on monday, all Meng Yao sees is her name.

It’s really funny. He knows her name of course, though he hasn’t heard it in a while. Even her mother took up to calling her Beastie after he nicknamed her that. It just fits her so well, that active little girl who prefers trousers over dresses because they're easier to move in and always wants to play at fighting. She’s a real little monster, and Meng Yao loves her like that. She’s just Beastie.

But according to the homework she’s spent the afternoon on, she’s also Nie Mingjue.

It could just be a coincidence. Names are funny like that, they pop up in unexpected places, they get forgotten and reused. Perhaps in another life, Meng Yao would have just dismissed it as a random incident.

In another life, he wouldn’t have been called Meng Yao.

It’s the first time this happens since that first life they all shared. He’s Meng Yao again, Lan Xichen bears his old name too, and now he’s found a Nie Mingjue, hiding right under his nose. A Nie Mingjue who likes fighting, and claims that her toy sword is actually a sabre, and who always insists a lot on things being fair, even when Meng Yao tries to give her the biggest share of a food she likes.

It can’t be a coincidence.

Meng Yao needs to tell someone.

He needs to tell Nie Huaisang.

He tries, of course, and without surprise his former employer’s number has been terminated. He has the same luck trying to send an email. Nie Huaisang might as well never have existed. Meng Yao feels helpless, torn between tears and laughter. After spending centuries looking for his brother, Nie Huaisang just might have lost his chance due to being so damn dramatic. Serves him right, Meng Yao thinks, still bitter about being discarded so easily, and never getting a chance to see if things might work better in this life.

Bitterness doesn’t last. Meng Yao cares about Nie Huaisang, more than he should if he were a little smarter, and he knows how important finding his brother again would be for him. And if Nie Huaisang can’t be directly contacted, there’s always indirect ways.

It’s not that Meng Yao misses Lan Xichen, he tells himself that night, when Beastie is back with his mother and he starts writing a long text message on his phone. Well, it’s not just that, anyway. He does miss Lan Xichen, sweet and funny and so eager when talking about art. But more importantly, Lan Xichen probably has access to Lan Wangji, who clearly must know how to contact Nie Huaisang. 

Texting Lan Xichen is a strategic choice. 

The way Meng Yao's heart jumps inside his chest when Lan Xichen immediately replies is… it's strategic too. He's just glad that his plan is working. 

How have you been? :)

I could have been worse. I've just realised something and I think it concerns you. I've told you about that kid I babysit, haven't I? 

Little Beastie? Is she okay? D:

She's Nie Mingjue. 

This time, the answer isn't immediate. Meng Yao stares nervously at his phone, wondering if Lan Xichen thinks he's lying, or planning something. Considering their first life, who could blame him? 

But after a few minutes, his phone vibrates again. 

Sorry, I dropped my phone and couldn't get it back from under the couch. Are you sure?? (⊙ˍ⊙)

It all fits. You could come meet her if you want. But it's him, I'm sure. 

Did you tell Nie Huaisang???

I can't contact him. Are you in touch with Lan Wangji? Maybe he can warn him. 

I have his number, I just texted him! I'll keep you updated! It's so wonderful if it's da-ge!! Can I really meet him? ╰(*°▽°*)╯

Her*?

I'll send you my address. If you can come tomorrow, she'll be there.

Are you sure? I don't think da-ge would still want me around. (≧﹏ ≦)

Meng Yao gives that question the consideration it deserves. It's not an unfair worry to have, and he'd be wondering the same if he hadn't known Beastie for so long. 

I literally killed him, and he killed me. If she had to hate anyone it'd be me, but we get along great. We're no longer the same people we used to be. It's the same for her. 

If you're sure, then I'll come! (❁´w`❁)

-

Meng Yao is very sure indeed. 

So Lan Xichen comes. 

It's odd to invite someone to his flat. It's a small place, a bit messy, full of trinkets and DVDs that Meng Yao would never admit to owning, not with the image he wants to create. He's always avoided guests. But having Lan Xichen over is as rewarding as it is terrifying. Lan Xichen brought some charming little cakes, as if he's visiting someone important, and he smiles at the sight of a movie poster on the wall, confessing he watched it so often as a teenager that the tape broke one day. 

"It's my favourite too!" Beastie exclaims. "Meng-ge has it, you know! Can we watch it now?" 

Normally, Meng Yao would point out that it's a little rude to ask that when they have a guest. But he can see that Lan Xichen is nervous and unsure how to act around Nie Mingjue, and maybe a movie will let them all relax. 

In the end, they spend a pleasant afternoon, the three of them. Once Lan Xichen stops worrying that the Nie Mingjue of old will appear and shout at him for getting him killed, he starts chatting with Beastie about her favourite movies, what she's learning in school, what she wants to be when she grows up. She's very happy to answer, and very impressed when he explains he's a teacher, even though she's finding it hard to accept that most of his students are fully adult.

And when Beastie is back with her mother, Lan Xichen lingers for a while, tempted by the offer of Meng Yao's favourite takeaway.

“It’s amazing how much like him she is,” Lan Xichen says as they sit on the sofa to wait for the food to arrive. “It’s the first time he reincarnates, you know. At least, Wangji told me they’d never found any trace of him before.”

Guilt shoots through Meng Yao. It’s his fault if Nie Mingjue’s soul was so fractured it took him this long to be reborn. Or at least, it’s the fault of someone he was, once, which is nearly the same, and yet completely different. Meng Yao has learned from living and dying several times, and he’s lucky enough to live in a kinder world than Jin Guangyao did. It helps.

“She’s also different from him, though,” Lan Xichen continues, moving just a little closer, until they’re almost touching.

“We’ll, for starters she’s a kid,” Meng Yao points out, wondering if he should take the other man’s hand. If this had happened before the Hanshi, he would have, but he’s not sure where they stand now.

“It’s not just that. In that first life, I knew da-ge as a child too and he was…” Lan Xichen sighs and makes a vague hand gesture. “He was a lot. Way too serious sometimes. We all were, I suppose, but him most of all. The Nie tended to grow fast, to compensate for dying young. I’m… I’m glad that he gets to properly be a child this time. That she gets to be a child.”

“The world has changed,” Meng Yao says, finding the courage at last to brush his fingers against Lan Xichen’s. “Things aren’t always easy but they’re… easier, I suppose.”

Lan Xichen’s returns that touch, gentle and careful as always. This, too, is easier now than it was back then. It’s not easy, but there’s less pressure to conform, less demands to be good dutiful sons, and just a little more space to be their own people, to make their own choices.

Maybe in their next life they’ll meet again and it’ll be even easier to be like this. But even now, Meng Yao is ready to take the chances that his past self wouldn’t have dared to dream of. He leans toward Lan Xichen, hoping to kiss him, but a knock on the door interrupts them and he jumps to his feet to go get their food. The delivery man looks at him a little funny, but makes no comment. If Meng Yao is half as red as Lan Xichen, he deserves those odd looks.

Nothing happens again that night. The moment has passed, and after eating, Lan Xichen has to go home because he has engagements the day after that he can’t cancel.

It's not a date that night, no more than any of their previous encounters were. 

It's not a date then, but next time, when Lan Xichen invites him to a restaurant, Meng Yao is informed in no unclear terms that this is, in fact, a date. They go see a movie after, and Meng Yao gets to kiss one of the two most handsome men in the world.

Life is good. 

Life is really good, and yet Meng Yao wants more. 

In spite of their efforts, Lan Xichen and him can't get in touch with Nie Huaisang to inform him that his brother has finally reincarnated. Even Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian are getting worried. From what they told Lan Xichen they haven't had any contact with him since the day they picked him up at the Hanshi. 

"They say he's done that before," Lan Xichen tells him. "They think he'll return in a decade or two, maybe a little longer. Time is hard for immortals, they lose track easily." 

That's all very well for them, but Meng Yao doesn't have a few decades to waste, and neither does Nie Mingjue. They're not immortals. One bad illness, a reckless driver, just tripping in the stairs, and it's all over until they reincarnate again, and Meng Yao is done with missed chances. 

If he can't directly get in touch with Nie Huaisang, Meng Yao can make a few discreet calls to former buyers, and advise them to get their purchase asserted again, just in case. He makes sure to only contact people who bought legitimate artworks of course. He wants to make a wave, not get in trouble. If Meng Yao knows Nie Huaisang even half as well as he thinks he does, then even in hiding Nie Huaisang will be checking what’s happening in the world of art collectors, and he’ll hear about some of his buyers suddenly becoming fearful of fakes.

It’s a little mean perhaps, when Nie Huaisang is so proud of his counterfeits, but kindness has never been Meng Yao’s greatest quality.

Besides, it works.

One afternoon, when Meng Yao is alone at home, checking a job offer that he’s probably going to reject because he deserves better, there’s a knock on the door. Meng Yao considers ignoring it, but some of his elderly neighbours have been coming to ask for help with their phones or whatever new fancy blender their kids got them to make life easier. Usually, five minutes of easy work means free homemade food for his next meal, which is always a great deal.

When he opens the door, there’s a very old man waiting in the corridor alright, but free food is probably out of the question.

“Well, I’m here,” Nie Huaisang says. “Whatever is going on, it’d better be important.”

[lillian-nator]

You want more shit? I can go all day (except for school and sleep, hm) but one day techno realises just how much trouble Tommy is getting into by hanging out with Dream and challenges him to a fight, that's how the dream and Techno duel comes about, techno wins and Dream is just like "Well, what did you want me to do?" and Techno goes "stop influencing boys younger than you or ill break your kneecaps next" - 💙

Oh shit - oh shit - oh shit

Man, Blue, you are really the mvp.

I feel as though we can understand eachother - I also need to sleep and have school in the morning lol.

Anyways, I would love to continue throwing ideas back and forth with you :)

Here it is [the scene]:

[So, for this scenario to happen, I imagine that Techno has to not know of the “Tommy being high off his ass” incident at first.

So, I picture for either Techno to sleep through Tommy’s lecture - or the more likely case (and the one I am going to write here) Tommy didn’t leave his room for the entire day after he got caught.]

When Tommy still hadn’t come out of his room at noon, Wilbur and Phil thought that Tommy was simply trying to evade punishment, but when they went to go check on him, he was still asleep. Like not even pretending to be asleep, like he was clearly out of it - and Wilbur, and Phil weren’t monsters, they would let him sleep as long as he needed.

They assumed that he would need a lot after only getting to bed at 4am, high as fuck, as well.

Tommy ended up sleeping until 6pm that Saturday (the weed incident happened on a Friday night). He only got up to puke in the bathroom and lay back down in his bed.

Techno, who had been gone for most of the day, came back and assumed Tommy was coming down with something. He went into his room, closed the door and din’t come out. Look - he loved his brother, he really did, but midterms were coming up, and he didn’t want to get sick. Besides, Wilbur being the sap he was, would totally be taking care of Tommy all day, if he was sick. He loved Wilbur really, but he could never had what him and Tommy had, Wilbur being the closest with the youngest, was over-protective at times, and a tad bit jealous of Dream, but he was a great brother really, and he was totally Tommy’s favorite, no doubt about that. He means, the two were stuck to the hip when Tommy was younger, and even now, sometimes it was like they were the same person.

So, Wilbur had been in fact taking care of Tommy. Sure, he was pissed out of his mind that his fucking 15-year-old brother came back home high as a kite, but he still cared about Tommy. Probably too much for either of their goods.

As soon as Wilbur heard Tommy get out of bed, he had been prepared to go upstairs, but when he heard Tommy vomit - he stopped. He wasn’t sure if he should help the boy or not. He knows that Tommy must have a killer headache, and probably stomachache from smoking weed on an empty stomach. So, he wasn’t sure whether or not he should let Tommy live the consequences of his actions - or if he should help ease his little brother’s pain.

Look, we’ve already discussed that Wilbur cared about Tommy too much for their own goods. SO, of course Wilbur fucking helped him.

When Wilbur got up to Tommy’s room, man was he not expecting to see Tommy in as much of a mess he was. He was still in his clothes from the night before, SapNap’s jacket hanging loosely around his arms, the multitude of blankets pulled up to his chin. There was sweat dripping down his forehead, and he looked green.

Taking a better look at him, Wilbur knew that it wasn’t the weed that made Tommy throw up - the kid had actually gotten sick from being outside without a jacket.

Wilbur was ready to throw hands with a member of the Dteam.

Anyways, the fact that Tommy was sick delayed the conversation a few days, and when it did happen - that Tuesday at 2 P.M, right after Tommy got home from school - Techno was still at the School studying for midterms.

Techno still didn’t know what was going on - but he noticed the subtle differences.

Tommy had to keep his door open when he had friends over, even with Purpled and Tubbo, practically two members of their family. Wilbur locked Tommy’s window, and when it was hot outside, Tommy had to ask Wilbur to open it. The air was tense. Techno felt like he was always walking on eggshells, and he felt as though he could physically see Tommy walk on eggshells. Tommy had started sitting with Wilbur and his friends at lunch. Tubbo obviously stayed with Tommy - really, Techno could see how glad the small boy was to spend time with his brother - but Purpled switched between Dream’s table, and Wilbur’s table almost everyday.

Tommy having to keep his door open only lasted a week and a half; Tommy was too loud, and the only kids coming over were Purpled and Tubbo (Phil completed trusted them). The window stayed shut though, and Tommy was not allowed to sit with Dream for the foreseeable future.

It was 3 weeks into Tommy’s new-found punishment when Techno had to ask Phil what was going on.

Techno sighed, “Phil, seriously, what has been up with Tommy lately. Did I miss something?”

Oh.” He had a look of confusion on his face. “Did Wilbur not tell you?”

“Did Wilbur not tell me what?” Techno scoffed, Phil could have not been more vague.

“Well, Wilbur caught Tommy come home high a couple weeks ago.” Phil threaded his hand through his short hair, he wasn't sure how Techno was gonna react.

Techno didn’t know how to react. His brother? Tommy? High? “Wait - but he was grounded a couple weeks ago?”

“I caught him sneaking back in. If Wilbur hadn’t woken up, I would’ve never known that he was high. He was good at hiding it.”

“Uh...” If Techno knew one thing, it’s that you aren’t good at hiding the fact that you are tripping balls the first time you get high. “Do you think that he had done it before?”

“I’m not sure. He said that he hadn’t. Wilbur believed him, but Wilbur would beleive anything that boy tells him. I have to trust him on it though.”

Techno mumbled, “That fucker.” And walked out.

Techno wasn’t thrilled bu the fact that his 15-year-old brother had been smoking weed.

Of course he wasn’t, it was his baby brother. Tommy was never supposed to do any of that crap. But, if Techno knew Wilbur and Phil well enough, he knew that he was getting enough punishment as it is. So he laid off him, even if Techno knew that Tommy had smoked at least one other time, he assumed he wouldn’t do it again - that part was right, however what Techno did not anticipate was to catch Tommy sneaking out again, or rather in.

It was late at night, the night before Techno’s last midterm. He wasn’t always the best at Physics. So he just decided to go over a few more equations.

Sure, it was almost 4 am, but Techno never slept anyways.

So, his head is in his hands just looking down at his Physics test book when he hears the clicks of the door being unlocked, and the kitchen being directly across the the house from the door - Techno had a crystal clear view of his brother attempting to sneak back in, from where he was at the counter.

“Hey.” Tommy stops in his tracks.

Tommy walks over to Techno, sits directly across from him at the counter, putting his keys on the table. Tommy sighs loudly.

“I will tell you anything. Please just don’t tell Wilbur and Phil.”

Techno, who actually really just wanted to know what was up with his brother, decided that he would take the deal. “Sure. You have to answer my questions though.”

Tommy let out an audible sigh. “Okay, deal. What do you want to know?”

“Let’s start with the obvious.” He clapped his hands together. “Are you high?”

“No.” straightforward. Techno continued, “Are you drunk - did you drink?” “No.” Techno squinted his eyes, “Are you lying?”

“Do you need a fucking sobriety test? I’m not under the fucking influence.” Tommy gritted his teeth.

“Hey.” He was used to Tommy’s attitude, so he’s not sure why the hostility caught him off guard. “I’m doing you a fucking favor - I don’t need the attitude.” He smacked the blonde on the back of the head. In the process, he took a beanie off of Tommy’s head. Upon closer inspection, Techno realized that the beanie was not Wilbur’s. It was Quackity’s.

Techno started again, “Who were you out with?”

“The gang.” Tommy deadpanned.

“Who the fuck is the gang?” He was starting to get really pissed off at Tommy’s vague answers.

“I don’t know!” Tommy stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Last night it was Quackity, Karl, Tubbo, and -”

Techno sighed, “Dream.”

“Don’t cut me off. I’m giving you the fucking answers.”

“Don’t forget you’re the one in trouble here.” Techno closed his Physics book. This was gonna be a long night. “Why?”

“I don’t know. Dream asked if I wanted to meet them at the bridge, and I did. So, I went.”

“Even though you knew that you are not allowed?” Techno asked skeptically.

“That’s kind of the fucking point of sneaking out.” Tommy turned to go into his room. Techno grabbed hold of his wrist.

“Just tell me one thing, before you storm up into your room.” Tummy hummed in agreement. “How many times have you smoked weed?”

Tommy groaned; “Really? You’re still on this?”

“Just answer the damn question Tommy.” Techno growled back.

Tommy sighed, exasperated, throwing his hands in the air - also successfully freeing himself from Techno's grip. “I don’t know! 3 or 4 times - I mean it when I say, I won’t do it again.”

“I beleive you.” And he really did, although his little brother may have been sneaking around behind his back, he knew him. And Techno knew that Tommy sounded sincere. “But, you also lied about never doing it before. You also smoked weed. Here we are.”

“Whatever.” Tommy mumbled, pushing past Technoblade and stormed up to his room. What he didn’t realize is that he left his phone on the table.

Tommy’s phone buzzed - loud enough for Techno to hear it through his thoughts.

Techno shyly picked it up - look, he really didn’t want to invade Tommy’s privacy. He knew that no matter what Tommy did, he had a right to privacy away from his brothers, but, Techno couldn’t help but be curious to which of the assholes of the month was texting his brother.

It’s a text from Dream.

Dream: You dropped your student I.D. You wanna pick it up tmr night? Karl and SapNap found an abandoned mall a town over. They wanna check it out. You in - Purpled and Punz already said they were game?

Techno was about to beat the shit out of that green fucking bastard.

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

The next morning, nobody knew why Techno was waling down the hall with such determination.

But nobody stood in his fucking way.

As soon as he got to Dream’s locker, he saw the bastard. Standing there talking to SapNap like nothing happened last night.

Techno slammed Dream’s locker door shut, earning a wince from the tall blonde.

“What the hell dude?” Dream snarled, annoyed, and fucking too tired to deal with anyone’s shit.

“’What the hell dude?’“ Techno mocked. “Why the fuck are you helping my little brother sneak out?”

“Because he asked me too! It’s not my fault he wanted to hang out, and I’m not taking the blame for something he did.” Dream was tired of getting involved with Tommy’s brothers. He loved the kid really, but his brothers were a lot to handle.

“Tubbo, too! We both know he’s grounded.” Techno mused, hands raised to the ceiling.

Dream, swore he was never gonna get a break from this guy. "Tubbo asked too! I'm not gonna take responsibilities for their actions!"

"Then stop fucking inviting them." Techno growled.

"Look. If they want to sneak out - I'm not, not, gonna tell them when we are hanging out."

"Just stop fucking inviting them - then none of this would ever be your problem. You got it? Stop fucking around with my brothers." Techno stepped closer, pointing a finger in Dream's chest.

Dream looked at the pink-haired boy with a knowing look. He said 'brothers' - okay. So, Techno was talking about all 3 of the teens.

He dropped his head, he really didn't want to get into a fight right now, "Look, I'm sorry okay? I can promise you I won't give any of them alcohol. I can promise I won't let Tommy take a hit of Quack's joint. But, I can't promise I won't stop hanging out with them."

Techno laughed, "You don't understand do you? The point is that you let him do it in the first place."

"Do you really want to do this, right now?" At this point students had gathered around the pair. "You want to fucking fight?"

"If that will make you shut up and leave my fucking life; yeah."

Dream threw the first punch.

There isn't much to say about the fight. Techno won - but barely. Both came out with bloody noses, split knuckles, bruised ribs, bleeding lips, and tired arms.

Techno broke Dream's nose.

It was a good fight.

Most of the student body watched, 'oohing' everytime a punch was thrown. At some point, Tommy had seen the fight go down, and Karl had to hold the blonde back, from breaking up the fight himself.

"Alright," Dream admitted on the floor, tired beyond relief. "What do you want?"

Techno seethed, "I want you to stay the fuck away from my brothers." and walked away.

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

Later, after school, when Tommy walked in on Calvin helping Techno clean himself up in the bathroom, Tommy brushed past Techno, bumping into his shoulder.

"Hey -" Techno grunted in pain.

"Good fucking luck explaining this to Phil. I'm going to Tubbo's. I won't see you later." Tommy growled, and continued walking.

[rookie-ramsey]

Eclipse, Chapter 2 (Ethan X MC)

Description: Five years after the birth of their unexpected twins, Ethan and Olivia are expecting their third child. Even if they planned the pregnancy this time around, they learn that not everything goes as planned.

Rating: PG-13

Preview: Ethan’s hand brushed against her warm forehead. “You’re not nauseous from the pregnancy. Zoey and Jonah are both sick. They’re throwing up and have temperatures of 100 and 100.2.”

Olivia sighed. “I should’ve thought of that. The stomach bug is going through their school. They can sleep in here if they want to. You should sleep somewhere else so we don’t give you the plague.”

Ethan shook his head. “I haven’t had a stomach virus since I was ten.”

“Oh, yeah. You’re the Dr. Infallible Ramsey, immune to all human ailments. You have a golden immune system.”

Previous Chapter

On Sunday afternoon, Ethan read a book on the couch while the kids played and Olivia was out for lunch with Sienna. He looked up when he heard footsteps and saw Jonah and Zoey walking into the living room, both wearing their little lab coats and carrying their toy doctor’s kit.

“Daddy, can you play with us?”

Ethan set his book aside and nodded. “Sure.”

“What are your symptoms, Daddy?” Zoey grabbed a stethoscope, one of Ethan’s old ones, and knelt next to him on the couch. She touched the stethoscope to his chest and listened.

Playing along, Ethan pressed his lips in thought. “I have a terrible headache. Can you take care of it?”

“Yep! Jonah, get the Band-Aids!”

Jonah grabbed a box of bandages from their bag. “Got em!”

Zoey dug a Cookie Monster Band-Aid out of the box and unwrapped it. She stuck it to Ethan’s forehead and nodded in approval. “Okay. We’re done with you.”

Ethan feigned a frown. “A Band-Aid for a headache? Don’t you think you should be more thorough?”

“It’s a Cookie Monster Band-Aid,” Zoey supplied, shaking her head as she put the package back in their bag.

Jonah wrote some numbers on a piece of construction paper. With a mischievous smile, he handed it to his father. “Here’s your bill! That’s gonna be two hundred eleven dollars and… eight cents.”

“Did you even try to bill my insurance?”

“We don’t do that here!”

Ethan arched a brow. “I think this clinic is corrupt. I come in with a severe headache and I don’t even get an MRI?”

“Nope,” Jonah responded, trying to contain a laugh.

“Hmm. Why should I pay this bill?”

Zoey shrugged. “Okay, then. If you don’t pay, you can’t keep the Band-Aid.” With a giggle, she peeled the bandage off his forehead and tossed it aside.

“I think I’d like to see your medical licenses.”

Jonah shook his head. “I lost mine!”

“And you’re still practicing?”

“I’m just the bill person now.” Jonah shrugged. “I get to be the doctor next.”

Zoey handed him another sheet of construction paper with her name scrawled on it. “See? It says Doctor Zoey Ramsey on it!”

“Hmm. I still think this is medical negligence.”

Both kids laughed. Jonah took the stethoscope from his sister and leaned against Ethan’s knee. “Alright, I’m the doctor now. Make up a new sickness.”

When the front door opened, the twins looked up and waved. “Hi, Mommy!”

“Hi there. What’s going on in here?”

Jonah held up their doctor’s kit. “Medical negligence!”

“You can’t have a fun Sunday afternoon without that.”

“How was your lunch?” Ethan asked as she sat down next to him.

“Good. The baby made me eat tacos. We’ll see if they make a reappearance later. So far, I’ve only violently puked three times this pregnancy.”

“Here you go!” Jonah opened the Band-Aid box and stuck a Big Bird one to her abdomen.

“Huh. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to be amused or offended at the Big Bird implication.” Olivia ran her hand over her stomach when she felt a soft kick.

“Is our sister kicking?” Jonah asked.

“Uh huh.” Olivia took each of their hands and guided them to her stomach. “Feel it?”

“Yeah!” Zoey’s brow pinched in concentration. “It tickles my hand.”

“You two kicked a lot, but you didn’t start it until a little later. I’m pretty sure you were trying to kick each other.”

They laughed and picked up their toys before they left to play in their playroom. Olivia rested her feet on the table and leaned against Ethan, making herself comfortable.

“How are you feeling?”

“Alright. For now I just want to focus on controlling what I can. Even if she has to have a major heart surgery, we don’t have all the answers yet. Worrying 24/7 won’t change that.”

Ethan slipped his arm around her. “We’ll find out more at your next appointment.”

She nodded and gave his hand a squeeze. “Aside from being treated by five-year-old doctors, how was your day?”

He chuckled. “Uneventful. They asked for chicken tonight.”

“I agree with that.”

That evening, she helped Ethan fix dinner. Even though the chicken and potatoes looked and smelled mouth-watering, Olivia could feel the beginnings of nausea and she ate lightly to avoid unsettling her stomach.

Some time after they’d gone to bed, she awoke with an uncomfortable churning in her stomach. She grimaced and curled up on her side, willing the feeling to pass.

It didn’t, and she lurched out of bed when bile rose in her throat. She made it to their bathroom just in time and dropped to her knees in front of the toilet. A gag escaped her as she emptied the contents of her stomach.

Awoken by the noise, Ethan joined her in the bathroom. He held her hair back and rubbed her back with his other hand.

Olivia groaned. “I think I jinxed myself. Morning sickness just struck at one in the morning.”

“It happened like that last time. It’s not common for morning sickness to start in the second trimester, but it’s not unheard of.”

“It should be.” Olivia cringed and wiped at her mouth. She brushed her teeth to get the bitter taste out, then yawned and sleepily made her way back to bed. “Can you get me some water?”

Ethan retrieved a bottle of water from the kitchen and took it to Olivia. “Here. Keep yourself hydrated.”

Olivia sipped slowly from the water and yawned. “I guess the baby decided she doesn’t like tacos. Or chicken and potatoes.”

In the hallway, a door swung open. Ethan heard footsteps darting into the hallway bathroom. He left their room to investigate and found Jonah hunched over the toilet, throwing up.

Uh oh.

Suspecting that they were in fact not dealing with morning sickness, Ethan followed his son into the bathroom. His expression softened when Jonah looked up with a sad frown. “Feeling bad?”

“Yeah…” Jonah made a face as he leaned over the toilet again. Ethan knelt next to him and pressed his hand to his forehead, finding it warm to the touch.

Zoey ran into the bathroom with her hands clasped over her mouth. Seeing her brother leaning over the toilet, she dropped to her knees and retched into the trash can. “Yuck…”

Ethan found the thermometer and checked their temperatures. They were elevated, but not badly, to his relief. “Let’s get back to bed.”

He picked them up and carried Jonah to his room first. He tucked him into bed and moved his trash can next to his bed in case he threw up again. “Here you go. I’m going to get your sister to bed, and then I’ll bring you something to drink.”

“Okay…”

Ethan repeated the process with Zoey and made sure both kids were settled before he returned to his bedroom.

Olivia emerged from the bathroom, her expression sour. “I thought I was empty, but apparently not.”

Ethan’s hand brushed against her warm forehead. “You’re not nauseous from the pregnancy. Zoey and Jonah are both sick. They’re throwing up and have temperatures of 100 and 100.2.”

Olivia sighed. “I should’ve thought of that. The stomach bug is going through their school. They can sleep in here if they want to. You should sleep somewhere else so we don’t give you the plague.”

Ethan shook his head. “I haven’t had a stomach virus since I was ten.”

“Oh, yeah. You’re the Dr. Infallible Ramsey, immune to all human ailments. You have a golden immune system.”

He shrugged. “Either way, I’ve already been exposed to all three of you. There’s not much point in isolating myself now.”

“Fair enough.”

Ethan left the room to check on the kids, finding them both awake and purely miserable. He carried them to their bedroom and set them down on the bed. They immediately ducked under the covers. When Ethan lay down, Zoey and Jonah snuggled in between their parents and closed their eyes.

“I think a king-sized bed was the right choice,” Olivia yawned, closing her eyes and pulling the covers up to her chin.

“Are we gonna have to take medicine?” At the thought, Zoey wrinkled her nose.

Ethan shook his head. “It wouldn’t help a stomach virus. All you can do is stay hydrated and try to rest as much as possible.”

“Okay. Are you gonna get sick, too?”

“No.”

“Daddy never gets sick,” Jonah reminded his sister.

Olivia snorted. “We’ll see if that theory is true in a few hours.”

By four in the morning, they had a pile of vomit-soiled clothes and sheets. Eventually, after a few hours and cups of ginger ale,  they drifted off to sleep and slept through the early morning hours without waking up to throw up.

Despite the long night, Ethan’s internal alarm woke him moments before sunlight spilled through the window blinds. He stifled a yawn and gently untangled himself from Jonah’s arm thrown across his chest and Zoey’s leg draped across his stomach.

He gathered the pajamas and bedding and started the washing machine, then emptied all of the trash cans and put clean bags in them in case they had a round two of last night’s occurrences.

An hour later, Olivia yawned as she joined him in the living room. “Did you call in?”

“Mm hmm. For both of us, and I called the school.”

“I’m lucky to have someone who’s programmed to run off of two minutes of sleep. I refuse to wake up before the sun when I have a day off.”

“Habit. I try, but my brain isn’t wired to sleep in on days I’m used to going to work.”

Olivia nodded as she opened the fridge and poured a small glass of ginger ale. She took a tentative sip, drinking it slowly in case her stomach decided to expel that, too. “The kids are still out cold. None of us have thrown up for over three hours.”

“The worst of it is probably over.”

“Well, we did have a doctor who made a night-long house call,” she chuckled. “Even if it meant letting three contagious people sleep in his bed all night.”

Ethan laughed quietly. “Sounds like a good doctor.”

Zoey and Jonah shuffled into the kitchen, both yawning and wearing Ethan’s old tee shirts from Hopkins. They climbed into their seats at the table. Ethan didn’t want them to risk unsettling their stomachs again, so he gave them each a cup of Pedialyte and some toast to try.

He poured himself a cup of coffee and raised the mug to his lips. When the scent of freshly brewed coffee hit his senses, he paused. Normally the smell was inviting in the morning, but today it made him blanch.

Olivia gave him a curious glance. “You look like I did last night.”

“I think I feel that way, too.”  Cringing, he set the mug down and poured a glass of ginger ale instead. He took a few sips, only to set it down moments later. Olivia followed him when he left the room and found him throwing up in their bathroom.

“I’d say I told you so, but I know that would be a little harsh right now,” she teased gently, laying her hand on his back.

Ethan winced in disgust and took a swig of mouthwash to get rid of the taste. “I suppose my ego had me convinced I wouldn’t get sick. I stand corrected.”

She squeezed his shoulder. “Well, I’m feeling better than I did last night, so I think I can manage Zoey and Jonah for now. They’ll probably just nap most of the day.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am.” Taking over, Olivia gripped his shoulders and steered him toward the bed. She urged him to lie down and pulled the covers over him. “Let me get the kids settled in and I’ll be right back.”

“Alright.”

She made her way to their bedroom door and paused, glancing back at him with an accusatory frown. “Oh, and by the way…. I told you so.”

Next Chapter

Tags, part 1

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[shirtlesssammy]

6x12: Like a Virgin

Then:

Soulless Sam is something else

Now:

A couple is enjoying a nice little chartered flight through an extreme thunderstorm. The woman starts to have a panic attack when she thinks she sees something large fly by the plane. She closes her eyes to relax when the man is snatched from the plane. This does nothing for her panic attack. 

At Bobby’s, Cas comes out of the safe room, having just confirmed that Sam’s soul is in place. Dean asks if Sam will ever wake up.

 Cas has zero patience with the situation. He doesn’t think putting Sam’s soul back was a good idea. Cas felt Sam’s soul --and believes if Dean wanted to kill his brother, he should have just done it outright. He says this all standing two inches away from Dean and then flaps away in the dramatic fashion of the time. 

For Why the Fuck Not Science:

Bobby pours Dean a glass of whiskey and shows him a potential job. It seems that while the man in the plane was found 17 miles away from the crash site, the woman was never recovered. 

Sam’s awake!

He doesn’t remember anything past Stull Cemetery. Dean tells Sam that he’s been back a year and half. And that it’s totally fine he doesn’t remember anything. He tells him nothing more. 

Bobby’s working on a car later and Dean joins him with a couple of beers. Bobby has some reservations about Sam considering he tried to kill Bobby ten days prior. He doesn’t think they should tell him everything either. Dean insists they leave it be. They don’t want the wall to crumble. 

Bobby and Dean are just about to head out on the place case when Sam pops up, ready to join. Bobby bails, leaving Dean and Sam to head out alone. 

Sam does research on the way and they discover that two other young women disappeared in the past week. 

Sam then asks Dean why he didn’t try to live a life “after.” Awkward. Dean admits to living with Lisa and Ben for a year, but, “it didn’t work out.” Cue cranking the music. 

The next day they take a look around the plane -lady’s room. Her friend explains that she was terrified of the plane but was just getting serious with the dude and didn’t want to appear uninterested. Back at the motel, Sam notes that the other missing women were “good girls”, and Dean whips out Penny’s diary with a theory. 

Sam can’t believe that Dean would steal the diary, and Dean is happy that Sam has a moral compass again. Dean reads from the diary: He thinks these women were all virgins. 

Outside a Catholic school, a student walks home alone in the dark. She hears a crackle of leaves and then the wind picks up, and before you know it, she’s on the ground screaming into the camera. 

Sam and Dean are later interviewing Melissa in the hospital. She tells them that something that looked like a giant bat attacked her. She’s got two giant gashes on her back and she’s missing her purity ring. Dean puts it together and wonders if she should have been wearing that ring at all. But let’s look on the bright side, she’s saved because she lied. 

This all leads to the question: “What likes virgins and gold?”

Sam’s research leads him to World of Warcraft websites --and dragons. Dean doesn’t want to dismiss the idea and calls Bobby to get a second opinion. Bobby’s opinion is this: “They’re not like the Loch Ness Monster, Dean. Dragons aren’t real.” He’ll look into it though. 

The brothers continue their research. Bobby calls with a lead: Dr. Visyak, Medieval Studies, SFU. Dean’s heading out, but not before dropping a thousand more nerdy pop culture dragon references --and then calls Sam a nerd before leaving. Gotta love that posturing boy.

Somewhere dank and steamy and cagey, all the missing people struggle to escape. As we watch, a new woman is added to the prison by a gruff, angry man. He melts the cage shut with his hand. 

Dean pulls up outside Dr. Visyak’s home. 

For Excellent Shot Science:

“Bobby Singer sent me” turn out to be the magic words. A beautiful woman opens the door and lets him in. She and Bobby share a History, capital H. Dean asks her about dragons (in the context of 12 sided dice DEAN YOU NERD ILU). Visyak tells him that there aren’t dragons anymore - not for 700 years. To kill a dragon, he needs a blade. 

He needs a blade forged with dragon’s blood and they are SUPER RARE. Fortunately, she happens to have a dragon-forged sword in the basement. She walks him down to meet Brunswick. Her favorite sword is currently embedded in a stone. 

Dean tries to pull the sword from the stone as glorious, crescendoing music fills the scene. He strains, and he makes faces and pratfalls and generally reminds us that Jensen Ackles should be in more comedy. Ultimately, he fails. 

At the motel, Sam methodically works on his CSI wall collage, pinning victim photos to a map. He takes a break from découpage to talk to Bobby. While dragons lair in caves, there are no natural caves nearby. Instead, they locate old subway lines and sewers. Sam deviates from the case to ask Bobby why he’s being so weird. Bobby insists that nOTHinG is wRoNG. 

Sam prays to Cas. “I’m back, so if you got a minute…” Cas flaps in and goes in for a hug. A HUG. a hug.

Sam DENIES the hug. Instead, Sam tells Cas that Bobby filled him in on everything that happened. Cas, bless that sweet clueless angel, takes that at face value and spills everything. He asks Sam how it feels to have his soul back. Sam takes this all VERY WELL, and continues to interrogate Cas for all the details.

Dean heads down to Dr. Visyak’s basement to blow up the rock with some strategically placed explosives. There’s a huge explosion and when they re-enter the basement vault, the rock is cracked perfectly! Dean goes to pull out the sword but…

DEAN. BEAN. 

Sam and Dean head out to the sewer system to find the dragon, broken sword in tow. They’re about to give up when they find a pile of gold. Dean grabs a handful of it like a good PRACTICAL LAD and shoves it into his pocket. They follow the sound of shouting until they locate the imprisoned ladies. The dragon confronts them, Dean claims he got the sword from Comic Con, and fighting ensues. The sword clatters into a grate and Dean’s arm isn’t quiiiite long enough to reach it. Sam can, though! As Dean confronts dragon number two, Sam takes out the dragon threatening Dean. The first dragon escapes in a rush of wind. 

Back at Bobby’s, Dean ecstatically picks through his rescued dragon’s hoard. 

Sam sits down and offers a heartfelt apology for all the shit that went down while he was soulless. WHERPS. They debate whether soulless Sam was actually Sam or...what.

Sam wraps himself up in his guilt blanket and presses Dean for details so he can make amends. They’re interrupted by Bobby who’s dropping a new chunk of lore. The dragons didn’t just leave a pile of gold behind. They also left ancient books with instructions for how to open a doorway to Purgatory. Intercut with this are scenes of the original dragon. He meets up with another shady character and together they force one young woman to a cliff in a cave. They read an incantation and the cave glows. They toss their sacrificial victim into the cave. KABOOM CRASH something emerges from Purgatory. It’s…...pause for dramatic effect…..the mother of all monsters. 

Natasha: It is INSANE to me that there exists not one but two episodes centering on missing “virgins” in this show. INSANE. Also, why does a mother require a “virginal” vessel? SMH derivative storytelling, friends. That said, I enjoy this episode anyway for its comedic moments.

The Quote in the Stone:

Being easy is pretty much all up side

Binding sword to stone used to be all the rage

You rocks think you’re so smart

Who doesn’t love sewers?

 Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

[malfoygrass]

I never talk about an ot3 for Draco and Astoria, so...I interrupt my regular programing to talk about my first ot3 Headcannon for Draco and Astoria and Harry. Because I figured if Draco and Astoria ever decided to go in that direction, Harry would be 100% there with them. 

Hear me out:

At first they don’t have anything in common, there’s Harry who feels so out of place in a world that practically worships him that it’s funny. Draco who’s coming to terms with the fact that he needs to change his old ways and Astoria, the morally ambiguous girl who was suffocated by her family's hypocrisy and refused to let Draco wallow in self pity.

Astoria was trying to run away from home when she accidentally found Draco hiding in her train compartment, they're not even friends, just two perfectly sad people who feel better together than apart after the battle of Hogwarts. But they run away together, because he's an ex death eater and she's a broken pureblood, both trying figure out how to build up their lives from scratch, now that Voldemort is dead.

Just two halfway rebellious teens trying to make sense of a present in which they are called adults. (Astoria refuses to call herself or Draco blood traitors, since there was nothing to betray in the first place)

And that’s how they find Harry Potter, in between house hunting in Muggle London, shopping in muggle malls, Draco's panic attacks out over his dark mark and the hallucinations of her survival guilt. they find Harry Potter, who goes to the same cafe each afternoon and also has a lost look in his eyes that Astoria is familiar with. Harry who for reasons of his own also wanted to run away from a world that doesn't really see him. Harry who feels alone after losing so much and yet finds peace in his own company.

So being the person she is, Astoria invites him over to Draco’s new muggle house for posh tea and crap takeout and when the night is over and the mutual apologies are exhausted. Draco tells Harry he's welcome to stay in his guest room whenever he wants.

Astoria's presence is a joy to find comfort in, a blank slate of opinions for Harry to talk to, she makes it easy for Harry to adapt to Draco, to understand his former arch enemy and find himself in places he never thought to look. their lifestyle isn't demanding or ambitious. To Harry, it seems like all they want is a quiet place to heal and figure out who they are, before the future Lord Malfoy and the youngest Greengrass heiress, can assert their true voices in Magical Britain again, and so he stays... because he needs to figure that out too.

Harry teaches Draco how to use a coffee maker and discovers a new appreciation for every old museum in the UK. Once Astoria learns to sew clothes with magic, Harry and Draco find themselves in too many fancy suits for their liking and being made to judge between all her dresses. They visit all the dance clubs Harry ever wanted to try. Draco proves to be an excellent dancer in every type of muggle music much to Harry's amazement, while Astoria makes them both laugh whenever she tries.

Harry exhausts himself teaching Draco and Astoria about the joy in the simple things of life. While Draco and Astoria try to convince Harry that using money to make life easier is the Muggle version of magic. And the thing is that, the three of them don’t notice when love comes into the mix.

Sure Astoria likes Draco, he’s dramatic and stoic and he’s the closest thing she knows to a mirror, he can read her entire volumes of pretentious books and never gives in to her whining when she’s sick, and she likes Harry, because he’s funny and down to earth and a fierce protector over the people he loves, which includes her, she knows Draco enjoys it, she enjoys it too, how Harry makes them feel safe. She likes them both and they are attractive and she knows they like each other so it’s okay to love them like a friend, until it’s not. (And she doesn't know what to do)

And sure Draco likes Astoria and Harry, Astoria because she’s soft and forgiving and she’s got hope enough for the two of them and he’s pretty sure she’d support him even if he turned into a monster and Harry because he’s Harry and past history aside, Harry is just as forgiving as Astoria, he doesn’t put up with Draco’s moods and he gives as good as he gets, Draco likes Harry’s raw honesty, his sarcasm, his sense of humor, if Astoria feels like home, then Harry feels like adventure without leaving home, they both make him happy, Harry and Astoria know enough about muggle culture to lose themselves in London with him, pulling him out of his shell and tag teaming his defenses until he gives in, he is happy to have them both, until he wants more (but he doesn't know how to tell them he wants them both)

And Harry, well he feels like Draco and Astoria are a perfect combination of kindness and spite. He likes Astoria, probably more than he should, given that she’s the archetypal white princess to Draco’s black prince, she’s understanding and patient, warm, mischievous and strong in her fragility, and Harry has never met someone who can speak about caring for one’s enemies like Astoria does, she’s simply the kind of girl who brings comfort wherever she goes and Draco, Harry has learned to like Draco, underneath the pretentious idiocy, there’s actually a good person. Draco is mean, and stubborn, but he’s also smart, ingenious, terribly generous and stupidly indulgent with people he cares about, which are not many, so Harry likes him. They are both more innocent than they should, too prone to overspending, he always feels like they don't know enough of the Muggle world to avoid being swindled, he finds it endearing, and it’s okay to be their friend, until it’s not (he knows he's inlove, but nobody's ever told him it's okay to love two people at once)

It starts when Astoria's nightmares return. Dreams of dead people blaming her for surviving the carnage that make her scream herself awake, Usually Draco is used to awkwardly climbing in her bed and soothing her until she falls back asleep. But this time Harry gets there first and he's much better at it than him (Astoria responds better to Harry's reassurances than she does to Draco's). So Draco lets her calm down in Harry's arms untill she's well enough turn around and seek Draco's more stable and familiar presence.

It's a dynamic that neither Harry or Draco mind, much to Astoria's embarrassment. Truth be told the three of them have nightmares, but only Astoria is held and cuddled by the two of them anytime she so much as whimpers in her sleep. So when Harry wakes up in cold sweat and pretends to be checking up on Astoria only to find that Draco had the same idea, they don't make a big deal out it.

Because Harry has PSTD episodes almost as often as Draco and turning the house into a safe place to heal is what they've been trying to do since the beginning.

Harry needs Draco to remind him how to act normal and sarcastic and he needs Astoria to soothe him into a state of calm. Draco knows they need each other a little bit more at night, and Harry thinks it's nothing to be ashamed of. So Draco isn't. Astoria is weak, Harry is a protector and Draco is a provider. Aside from falling inlove with a classmate's little sister, It's natural to be so close with the boy who used to be your school rival...right?

Astoria's room becomes neutral ground. It eventually gets filled with Harry's things and Draco's things of course. After all her room was meant to be the biggest anyway (Since Draco in all his sexist assholery thought Astoria owned a wardrobe as big as his mother's so she should have the biggest closet) besides it's saves them all time to have Draco's hair products on hand instead of going trough all the trouble of stealing them from his room

Eventually Draco's room turns into an office for Harry and the guest room becomes the potions lab Draco always wanted....

Aaand after a few months of living together, healing together and learning to fit in the muggle world. They decide it's time to go back to face the magical world and their responsibilities.

It turns into a panicked discussion about everything their families and friends are going to expect from them once they rejoin the real world, and in a true Griffindoor fashion Harry makes the first move and tells them he wants to stay together.... But romantically, because at least he is trying to be brave cue the two emotionally constipated Slytherins admitting their feelings.

So there's a lot of talking and more than some kissing involved in that whole emotional confession time. They decide that if they are going to be together then it's going to be them against the world and thats going to be an uphill battle but they're willing to, if it's with the other two.

And yeah that's how I imagine an Ot3 between Draco Harry and Astoria would go

Ps: could someone tell me what this ship is called? Drastroriary? Drarryoria? Haroriaco?

[sams-sass]

Secrets in the Snow

Chapter One: The Frost

Hey Hey! Here is the first chapter to my new winter/Christmas fic series. I hope you guys like it! 

Read: 

Chapter 2: The Mountains Call

Chapter 3: The Winds Whisper

Chapter 4: The Fires Kiss

Chapter 5: The Hearts Desire

Summary: You and Sam find yourselves trapped in a cabin for Christmas. Fluff ensues. 

Warnings: Fluff, fluff, Christmas fluff

Parings: Sam x Reader

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

The other cars' red brake lights in the drive-through were blurry from the rain pouring down as you stared out the windshield. Your arms were crossed on top of one another and leaning against the leather front seat, your chin resting on them peacefully. Your body was folded into itself, legs spread apart, and back stretched. Dean was in the driver's seat, one hand on the wheel while the other flipped through the radio stations. Sam was on your other side, his hands curled around a lore book. The line moved, and Dean looked up to drive the car forward.

"Y/N, what do you want?" He asked you, his face turning toward you slightly.

"Usual." You mumbled against your arms.

"You got it, kiddo." He said as he pulled the impala up to the window and rolled the window down, practically yelling the order over the pounding rain.

"It's coming down out there." You said, lifting your head slightly.

"Yes, it is." Sam agreed, his face turning towards you, a small smirk on his face. Dean pulled up to the next window and took the food the woman handed him, passing it over to Sam, who was waiting with his hands out. He looked in the bag and found your food first, giving it to you over his shoulder while still looking in the bag. Dean took the drinks from her and gently placed them in the middle of the two boys before pulling away. He pulled into the parking lot and took his food from Sam in their perfect synchrony of movements. It was moments like this with the two of them that made you forget about the bad for a moment. Classic rock coming from the radio, Sam's nose buried in a book, Dean moaning around his burger even though he eats one once a day. The harmony of the three of you together, no monsters in sight. Just pure relaxation. You leaned against the back door and stretched your legs out on the backseat. You unwrapped your food and dug in, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand in between bites because, as usual, Dean forgot to ask for napkins.

"So, where are we going?" Dean asked Sam, balling up his food wrapper and tossing it into the bag.

"Wyoming. From what it seems like, they have a werewolf problem." Sam took a sip of his drink, not looking up from the map. You balled up your wrapper and threw it into the bag as well, taking a large gulp of drink and once again poking your head between the boys.

"Where in Wyoming?" You asked.

"Lander," Sam answered.

"Ah, so right in the mountains." You nodded, laying your head to the side and looking up at Sam's profile. He turned and smiled at you.

"I see you're using that geography book I got you." He sounded proud, making you feel proud too. The moment was cut short by Dean making exaggerated gagging sounds. You whipped your head around and landed a swift punch to his arm.

"Ow!" He shouted, grabbing his arm before falling into a fit of laughter. Acting like children made you laugh, too, chipping away at the weight on all of your shoulders.

 --------------------

The loud rumble of the impala's engine sounded throughout the quiet and sleepy mountainside town. Your drive here had been beautiful, sweeping landscapes with racing rivers and snowcapped mountains that took your breath away. You all climbed out of the car and stretched out your tired limbs. You lugged your bag over your shoulder and made your way into the motel room, letting the crisp air fill your lungs. You stopped walking and tilted your head up slightly, looking up at a cloudless sky that seemed to go on forever. Your lips parted at how large the sky looked when no buildings were cutting into it, just endless blue. You made your way into the motel room and threw your bag down on the couch, leaning against the wall as you made your plan.

"Alright, since this is a pretty small town and we already know they have a werewolf problem, let's see where they could be hiding," Dean said, spreading the map over the small table and leaning on his hands.

"Well, if I were a werewolf, I would hide in the mountains. Small town, someone is going to find out sooner or later. I would hide where it would be harder for them to find me." Sam said, one long finger coming to point at the surrounding mountains out on the map.

"I agree." You said, pushing off the wall and coming to stand next to Sam.  

"We could canvas the locals, see if there is something in the mountains worth looking into." Dean nodded, standing up straight.

"Sounds good to me." You said, watching Sam nod his head in agreement.

About an hour later, the three of you walked into a local bar and sat down at a booth. The entire place was decorated for Christmas. Lights were wrapped around almost every surface. Green wreaths with red bows, dawned many of the walls. Pinecones with fake snow sprinkled on them sat in bowls along the mantle above the fireplace. A large Christmas tree sat in the corner; its ornaments and tinsel made a feeling of nostalgia settle within you. Sam sat next to you, his large body squishing into yours, making you giggle. He always looked so big compared to everything else. Dean brought back three drinks and placed them in the center of the table. You grabbed yours and took some sips. Sam moved, and you could feel the heat from his skin, warming yours.

"Alright, I'm gonna canvas the bartender," Dean said after taking a long drag from his beer. Sam scoffed next to you, and you rolled your eyes.

"Have fun." You said, raising an eyebrow at him and letting a knowing smirk sit on your face, folding your hands on the table. Dean sent you a wink and his most charming smile before making his way over to the bar with a confident strut.

"I'm just gonna-uh," Sam mumbled awkwardly, pointing at Dean's empty seat. You wrinkled your forehead in confusion, tilting your head to the side.

"Oh! Yeah, of course." You said as you realized he was telling you he was moving away from you, there was a small part of you that didn't want him to. He slid across from you and tucked a piece of hair behind his ear.

"Alright, who should we talk to?" He asked, looking around the rustic bar. You looked up at him and let a small smile pull at your lips.

"Uh.." You mumbled as you looked around at the crowd. You spotted a man in a black long sleeve shirt, a vest over his chest. His jeans were worn in, slightly dirty, and torn in places. His hands told you that he worked with them every day of his life. He moved his baseball cap, scratching his brown curls before placing the hat back on his head. "I'm going to talk to him," you said, pointing to the man, "he looks like he goes in the woods." You said, taking more swigs of your drink and looking back at Sam for a moment. He followed your previous gaze and looked at the man you were talking about. He turned around to you and pressed his lips together.

"If you need me, I'll be around." He assured you, eyes connecting with yours.

"I know, Sammy." You said in an even and peaceful tone, your shoulders relaxing. "See you around." You smiled as you stood up and made your way across the bar. You didn't see how Sam's eyes lingered on you for longer than necessary, how his hope drained slightly when you sauntered over to him, eyes wide and lips smiling, how his fists clenched when you grabbed his arm, your head was thrown back in laughter. He couldn't stop looking at you; no matter how hard he tried, his eyes always wandered around to you and your enticing personality. He couldn't pull himself away from the torture of you looking at you with another man.

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

You licked your lips, catching your bottom lip between your teeth. He leaned in a little closer to you; his scent of body odor and beer invaded your nose quickly. You resisted the urge to turn away from him, instead of burying your nose in your drink and taking a large swig. He had told you his name at some point. Jeremy, was it? You didn't know, nor did you care. You just wanted to go back to the hotel and hang with your boys.

"Hey, do you know about any properties in the mountains?" You asked, lowering your head and looking up at him from under your lashes.

"Properties?" He asked, clearly confused and disinterested.

"Yeah, like properties with a lot of land? I could be in the market to move here." You blinked and tried to give him your most seductive smile.

"Oh, well, if it's land you want, there is the old McCall farm. No one has lived up there for a long time, and it has like 150 acres or something. We used to sneak up there when I was in high school, just to drink and party and such. The views from there are absolutely incredible." He said, his elbows coming to rest on the table. You ran your finger along the rim of your glass, collecting the moisture.

"Thank you." You said, sitting up slightly.

"No problem. Maybe I could take you up there to check it out?" He asked you, leaning in even closer and giving you a crooked grin.

"Uh, I don't know. I'm here with some friends." You looked around the bar and found Sam's eyes, sending him your signal by tapping three times on your cheek with your index finger. Within a few seconds, you felt your phone buzz. You acted surprised and pulled it from your pocket, looking at the screen with false confusion on your face.

Sam: Come back here.

"Something wrong?" Jeremy asked you, genuine concern crossed his face and made you actually feel bad for him.

"No, just my friends wanna head home." You said, standing up. "Thanks for the help."

"Ok, well, goodnight." He said with a dorky grin.

"Night." You said before walking back through the bar towards Sam, looking for Dean as you went. A hand wrapped around your arm and pulled you toward them, making you squeak in surprise. You practically fell into Dean's chest, his arm coming around your shoulders. You quickly relaxed into his familiar touch and wrapped your arm around his waist.

"Hey, bud." You said, smiling up at him.

"Hey, kid. You ready to go?" He asked you; his breath smelt like tequila, and he still had some salt around his lips, causing you to giggle. You nodded, unwrapping yourself from his embrace, and made your way over to Sam on the other side of the bar. He was waiting with your jacket in his large hands. He held it up, and you slid your arms in the holes, feeling the immediate warmth against your skin. The three of you made your way back to the motel, and you told the boys about the farm. You all decided to check it out now; make sure that was the place and know how many there were. Sam was once again looking over the map in the passenger seat. His hair was softly blowing from the heat coming out of the vents. You smiled to yourself, looking up at him out of the corner of your eye.

The old farm took you about 40 minutes to get to by the old dirt roads. Dean muttered under his breath the whole time about "mud in the undercarriage" and how baby was a "beautiful creature who didn't deserve this shit." Jeremy was right about the amount of land. The property seemed to stretch on forever. Its rolling hills with untrimmed grass made you feel so small against its massive landscape. You all climbed out of the car and made your way to the house as silently as you could. You peaked through a window, holding your breath not to make any noise, and looked around to see…nothing. No lights were on. No sound could be heard anywhere. There was just nothing. You turned to the boys and shrugged your shoulders. That's when you heard it, the low rumble of a growl. You all turned and spotted the werewolf sprinting full speed at you. His eyes were reflecting with the glow of the moon. He was headed straight for you, not even paying attention to the boys as he charged. You reached into the waistband of your pants and aimed at his heart. The shot was loud in your ears, echoing around your skull. You swallowed and lowered your weapon, the smoke showing against the night sky. He dropped instantly—the silver taking its effect.

"Nice sho-." Dean was cut off by the other werewolf; none of you saw. He sunk his massive claws into Dean's leg. Blood seeped through his torn jeans, and his body crumpled into itself. He groaned and grabbed at his torn flesh. You heard Sam pull in a loud breath before running over to his brother and collecting him into his arms. You aimed your gun again at the other wolf and fired. Missed. He kept running; he was too fast. You realized there was no way you could catch up to him and lowered your gun. You ran over to Dean, placing your arms around him to help Sam lift him into the car. You grabbed a towel out of the back and tied it around his leg, apologizing after he screamed in pain. Sam drove back to the motel. Tires kicked up dirt the entire way. You and Sam brought Dean inside and placed him onto one of the beds. It was bad. His wounds were deep and harsh.

"Hey, Dean, it's ok. We are gonna take care of you." You said to him gently, removing the towel as you spoke. It took an hour and a half. You and Sam were continually switching places, one of you stitching while the other wiped the blood away. Finally, it was done. Dean's eyes were rolling in his head from blood loss and exhaustion by the time you were done. Your fingers ached from holding the needle for so long. Sam's hands were caked in blood. Dean fell back and was almost instantly asleep. You took a breath, wiping the sweat off your forehead with your forearm.

"Thanks for the help, Y/N," Sam said, using a wet rag to clean his hands.

"Of course, we're a team." You stretched out your aching fingers while you grabbed clothes from your bag.

"This means it's up to us now," Sam replied, leaning on the sink counter.

"I know." This thought had crossed your mind too. Dean was in no shape to hunt for a while. You bit your lip and fully turned to face Sam. "We're hiking tomorrow, aren't we?" You asked him.

"Yeah." He sounded exhausted. You could hear the heaviness of his voice.

"Well then, we better get some rest." You said with a nod. You and Sam got cleaned up and laid down for the night. The couch cushions were lumpy and awkward under your body. You tried to roll onto your side, but that only made it slightly better. Dean was already snoring, and you could tell by his breathing that Sam was well on his way. You closed your eyes and pulled a deep breath into your lungs. It wasn't too long before the exhaustion of the day pulled you down into the black as well.

You and Sam finished packing your bags, taking extra clothing, food, water, and a GPS tracker.

"Hey, Y/N, what socks do you have on?" Sam asked you from his bed.

"Just my normal socks." You responded over your shoulder, throwing more things into your backpack.

"No, no, no, it's freezing out there. Here, take my wool socks." He said, turning to you with his hand stretched out. You took the socks and sent a small smile his way. You sat down on the couch and pulled them onto your feet. They were ridiculously large on you, but they were really warm and comfortable. You stuffed your feet back into your boots and grabbed your backpack. You threw the bag over your shoulders. You said bye to Dean. He gave you a small kiss on the cheek and wished you luck. You saw Sam send him a small wave before closing the door completely. You and Sam set forward on your hike up into the mountains. You were about a fourth of the way when you looked up at the sky.

"Hey, Sam! I don't like the looks of those clouds." You called to him, pointing up at the heavy clouds rolling in.

"Huh? Oh, no. I checked the weather report. They were only calling for a ten percent chance of precipitation." He responded with a half-smile before he kept walking. You continued behind him, but apprehension still sank into you.

 ----------------------

It took you five hours to get to the farm, giving yourself breaks for eating and hydrating. Your feet ached in your shoes. Your shoulders were screaming from the weight of the backpack, and your knees felt like they were about to give in at any moment. Your breath was fast in your lungs, hard breaths in and out. Due to your exhaustion, you almost missed the air's change how it grew thick with moisture and smelt of humidity. You glanced up to the sky again, seeing that the grey clouds had taken over the blue. The temperature seemed to drop about ten degrees as well, sending a chill through your bones. Wind through the trees blew your hair around you, and a worry made itself known within your gut. Sam seemed to notice the change, as well. His steps became smaller. Eyes turning to the sky. The first flake fell…then it seemed as if they all came at once. The surrounding air was filled with snowflakes that seemed to be coming from every direction. The wind picked up, and you could barely keep your eyes open. It was so loud, howling in your ears and slapping against any exposed skin. The snow was sticking to the ground and fast. Your boots were already covered in white powder, and you knew your jeans wouldn't hold up to the conditions. This was not a pretty snow. The flakes did not cascade on their way down, getting stuck on branches as they fell. It was not a scenic snowfall. This was a full-on blizzard, and you and Sam were trapped right in the middle of it.

"Ten percent, my ass!" You shouted over the screaming wind. Sam turned and gave you a "what do you want me to do about it?" expression.

"We have to find shelter." He said back.

"Shouldn't we head back?" You asked, wrapping your coat around you a little tighter.

"Not in this; looks like we are staying here tonight." Sam pointed to a cabin. It was on the land of the farm, but not quite near the house. It would be perfect for keeping an eye on the place for the werewolf's return. You looked at the cabin, back to him, then back at the house, before looking back at him and shrugging your shoulders.

"Alright." You said with a defeated sigh. You made your way into the cabin, peaking in the windows before using your lock pick to get inside. The first thing you noticed was the silence within the walls. It made your boots sound impossibly loud against the wood floors. You looked around at the bare cabin. Just an old couch sat in the middle of the living room; a bookshelf was against the left wall leading into the kitchen. The cabinets had a few cans still in them, some plates and glasses, but nothing to make a home with.

"How long do you think it's been since people have been here?" Sam asked you while he looked around the cabin too. You swiped at the counter and looked at the considerable amount of dust on your finger.

"I don't know. Months maybe." You took your backpack off and placed it on the floor.

"We should get a fire going," Sam announced, making his way back outside. You decided to stay in and take inventory of what you had. You opened cabinets and doors, finding everything you could. You found blankets and pillows, giving them a smell before placing them on the couch. Next, you looked at each can of food. Most were expired, but you found a few cans that were still good. You shook out the blankets, getting as much dust out as you could. You then found a broom and swept away all the dust and debris in front of the fireplace, making room for the blankets. Sam came back about a half-hour later with wood.

"Find much?" You asked, looking behind him to see if there was any more.

"Most was wet, but I found a pile, and the ones underneath were good." He knelt in front of the fireplace, placing the logs in one at a time. His cheeks and nose were rosy from the cold. His hair was sprinkled with snow, and his lips were extra pink against the grey backdrop. You shook your head, not letting yourself go there, and knelt next to him, searching your bag for a lighter. You handed it to him and watched him light the wood on fire. You instantly felt warmer just watching the yellow flames begin to dance. You didn't want to get upset. You didn't want to let your mind wander to the worst of thoughts, but you could feel the "what ifs" creeping in slowly and surely. What if you were stuck here for longer than just tonight. What if you run out of food? How will you shower? Wash your clothes? You looked over at Sam and could tell he was thinking the same things.

"Sam, I'm nervous." You confessed, turning towards him.

"Me too," He didn't lie to you. "but we can do this, I promise. We just have to get through tonight." He took you by the shoulders and forced you to look into his eyes, setting his jaw and nodding once. You found comfort in his assurance. You found peace within his green and gold eyes, nodding to yourself and biting your lip. You and Sam were trapped in a cabin while a blizzard raged overnight. What could possibly go wrong?

Tags: @watermelonlipstick​ @melancauliflowers​ @strawqerrybby​ @spnfanficpond​ @calaofnoldor​

[artxyra]

How about Damian being a part of Ms Buster's class when he was on a League mission and the class basically becoming a mini cult. They do all sorts of crazy stuff like make go-carts powered by karaoke machines, not leaving the builing when fires start because smores duh, and so much more.When his mission is over there are many tears and the cult disassembles. Years later the class gets a trip to Gotham and the city QUAKES when the cult reforms.Many chaotic shenanigans & crying at the reunion.

Marinette was only eight when her primary school life changed for the better. On that faithful day in Mlle. Gilbertine class, a new student was introduced under the precedent of a transfer from another country. His name was Damian, no last name was given to the teacher nor the students within the classroom. To her, Nino, Chloe, Nathaniel, and Kim, he was an odd boy as Damian stressed for no social relations with anyone. In fact, Marinette had caught several times engaging in lonesome activities when they were all together messing in the field. It was after that, Marinette made it her life’s mission to befriend the emotionless kid.

It was hard at first trying to trick the young man into dance battles, hopscotch, and simple games like red light, green light. He was very much against the idea until one day, Marinette decided on a shooting game with water guns and makeshift go-carts out of bike parts. It was the creation of that game that changed the young group’s lives forever.

Soon newer and crazier games began to take over the classroom of Mlle. Gilbertine. Nino would bring in his CD player and the moment music boomed out of the speakers everyone knew what was about to happen.

One day, when they were in the school pool area pretending to be sea monsters and attacking one another we kickboards and pool noodles, the group was then dubbed the “Premier Chaotique” cult as they were youthful and the stuff they come up with was chaotic than anything the future Hawkmoth could ever come up with.

Marinette and Damian were deemed the leaders as they were able to control and come up with the plans. Chloe, due to her father being in politics, was the person who decided on the locations and what would be the most chaotic method. The rest were their follower who cared much about Marinette.

Mlle. Gilbertine was determined to get the Premier Chaotique cult under control but they were slick and made plans at random, she remembers the day when tons of ice cup somehow managed to cover every one of her student desk and the odd appearance of snow sleds. It is rumored that the mini cult managed to keep their own little snow resort just using ice cream. It was a pain to clean up.

Marinette remembers the days where the mini cult would paint the city red with flowers and chaotic goodness. It is a miracle that the cops never brought their parents into the investigation. Then again with a child as pure as Marinette in the lead, people would fall over when they see her smile.

Their biggest achievement was when the school’s kitchen managed to catch on fire during a lunch period. While everyone else was being evacuated, the group somehow managed to slip through the adults and back into the cafeteria. Kim had brought marshmallows that day and when the firefighters enter to put out the flames, they were greeted with the sight of children with wood sticks eating smores and telling scary stories. It was their greatest achievement and the worst nightmare because only a day later, Damian had to go back to his home country.

Marinette fell into depression along with the others. After a month without Damian, they vowed to never speak of the best year of their life unless they ever meet Damian again. It was no secret that Marinette had a crush on the foreign boy, so the cult disassembles and never mentions Damian ever again.

Years past since that day, Chloe took it upon herself to bully Marinette as those who knew them in their younger days forget that they were ever friends. Marinette took on art along with Nathanial, but she went in the direction of fashion designing while he goes in direction of comic book styles. Nino stayed friends with all but Chloe and found his calling in music production. The name that used to strike fear in the hearts of the Paris citizens, faded away into a false memory.

Little did anyone know, the spirit of the Premier Chaotique cult lives on and would be awoken in just under two decades.

A sixteen-year-old Marinette works her butt off to make this trip a reality. It was not for the approval of her classmates, it was for her sanity. Three years of being Ladybug has put a toll on her and she plans to take advantage of the lack of akuma attacks going on. When the acceptance letter landed in her hands, her parents swear they saw a bolder be lifted off their daughter. She was smiling more and appeared less stressed than she ever been since finding out the school board decided to move teachers with their students as a handful of teachers left Paris, some even left France altogether.

Her closet allies were the first to know about the trip to Gotham before Mlle. Bustier was given the information. They cheered happily before anything bad could happen, dismantling everything Marinette has ever done.

After giving the proper miraculous to Luka and Kagami and convincing Kaalki to come with her to Gotham only to be used as an emergency, Marinette was set to leave Paris France and head to Gotham, New Jersey.

Upon entering the streets of Gotham, a cold chill runs down everyone’s spine aside from the former mini cult members. Too Mlle. Bustier, the chill was all too familiar bringing up memories of those kids that terrorized the streets before Hawkmoth. She looks around to see nothing out of place before promptly calling out her students so they could make it to the hotel.

Everyone who felt that chill had a right to be warry.

For the first day, everything seemed fine, but when you leave the original members of Premier Chaotique alone for a moment, well chaos was sure to happen. Chloe and Marinette had put aside their difference during the Lila era of the class reign took over and managed to stay friends after the liar’s reign ended. Plans were made but not yet enforced, it did not feel right, and they knew why– it was the lack of their leader Damian.

“Dams?” Marinette calls out when she saw the familiar sighting of the boy that was her first love. He hadn’t changed by much; he was still taller than her.

“Mars?” That nickname sent the French-Asian teen running into the arms of the Ice King himself. Time froze in that café for several reasons but the main one was definitely because they just witnessed Damian Wayne hugging someone willing.

“You look nice,” Marinette sways before a mischievous smirk tugs on her lips, “The others are here too.”

This time it was Damian who smirks bringing Marinette closer to him. “Mm, shall be bring Gotham to its knees?”

They share a smirk that was soon ended by an explosion.

Thus, the Premier Chaotique cult was reformed. They decided to meet that night. Dinosaur inflatable suits of various colors were brought. Music blared in the streets of Gotham nears hotel the class was staying out. The members of Premier Chaotique all strutting down in the middle of the streets dancing as Nino holds a boombox over his shoulder.

Jam Jams @crazyforbatsDid anyone else wake up to music and dancing dinos last night?

Kay @gokaykaer [A one-minute video of flashlights and six dinosaurs doing the Cha-Cha-Slide] I swear I just saw @thebloodwayne for a split second.

Twitter was blowing up the next morning with various videos and gifs of the events that happened the night before. The only people who weren’t affected by the popularity was the group who were apart of it.

Marinette and Damian spent the remains of that talking choosing which plan to do next. It would consist of bikes and a zip line from the tallest building to the smallest building possible.

Going to the Wayne household, Bruce could already feel a migraine coming as Dick and Jason plays the video over again in the main room. Damian shames his family members while the oldest complaints about why they haven’t thought of that for a family outing. It’s all about class, Dick, it all about class. Alfred mentally takes notice of the lack of emotions from Damian and the recent purchase from the teens account at a party store.

The next night, began the fears that every Parisian feared would happen.

Nino and Kim were able to find the buildings needed to hook the zip line to while Chloe set up the equipment with the help of Nathanial. Damian had to ditch his family members, and Marinette had to keep the class and others from finding out what they are doing. Once everything was ready, the Premier Chaotique enters their playground wearing hooded leotards (or bodysuits) with a latex match stretched their eyes. Kim went first down the zip line as Damian race down the streets on the bike. Originally, they were going to use the bikes as their way down, but the zip line could hold the bike and the person on it, so they turned it into a race instead.

Their fun ends when someone called the cops and sirens echoed loudly against their music. Gotham’s twitter users weren’t too happy that someone had called the cops on the bravest of things to ever surface on Gotham streets since Batman.

It was during the tour of Wayne Enterprise, that the Premier Chaotique learned Damian’s last name. He was an effing Wayne which then lead to some confusion. Marinette had asked Damian what his last name when they were eight and he replied with something along the lines of not being a Wayne until he was ten.

His brothers, in shock from seeing him interact with teens his age, begged Bruce to invite them over to the manor. This needs to go into the record books.

While it was a momentous occasion for Damian’s brothers, it was reality check for Mlle. Bustier. Her screams echo against the halls of WE as memories of the chaos are awoken. She stares at Marinette in denial, there was no way her prize student was about the cult that did so much damage all those years ago. Then on top of that having the entire crew in her classroom, Caline was beginning to feel faint.

Bruce, unknowingly, invited even more chaos into his household that night. Chloe and Marinette were able to convince Mlle. Bustier to let the five of them stay with Mr. Wayne for the night in hopes of “catching up” with Damian. After getting the approval from Mr. Wayne, she agreed secretly ecstatic that they wouldn’t be in her care for the next several hours.

“I’m bored, let’s play a prank?” Kim randomly shouts when they were all staring out the TV waiting for something good to come on.

“What do you have in mind?” Marinette asks as Damian pushes her off him knowing that she’ll use him as a throne.

“Hey Dams, do you own go-carts are something of a familiar nature?”

Damian thinks about it for a minute, “Tt, father wouldn’t dare let those things in the house. We can prank my brothers though. Scaring them shitless would bring me joy.”

“Well I have a few ideas, we can use.” Chloe states pulling out the book of mischief.

Let’s just say that prank will forever rule the day the Batfamily ever found out about the Premier Chaotique.

Permanent Tag List: @vixen-uchiha | @i-is-mysterious | @kuroko26 | @maribat-is-lifeblood | @marinettepotterandplagg | @loveswifi | @ladybug-182 | @novaloptr |

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[fleckcmscott]

Out of Sight

Summary: Y/N has an unexpected dash of inspiration. Arthur doesn't require much convincing.

Warnings: Swearing, Smut

Words: 4,221

A/N: This fun little request comes from @sweet-nothings04​​. You're wonderful and I hope this meets your expectations. Thanks for the request - I can't imagine ever writing this without it! 🙈 Special thanks to @jokerownsmysoul​ for agreeing to beta!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

Words didn't often fail Y/N, but the admission left her foggy, reminiscent of what she'd experienced after tipping over in a wheelbarrow race at a school fair. Her foot swung back and forth as she sat on the counter. Fiddled with the phone cord and twisted its beige, plastic curls around her fingers. Were there signs she'd missed? Was her gut right in insisting she was a terrible friend?

"Marriage counseling?" she repeated.

Arthur stopped filling his bowl with sandy, pecan cookies, alarm encroaching his features. She waved off his concern, mouthing "not us" before she spoke into the receiver. "I'm so sorry." With a grimace of understanding, he patted her knee and ducked out, sweets in hand. No doubt he'd ask her to elaborate. Not that she had anything to share. Not yet. "I had no idea you and Robert were having problems."

Patricia laughed lightly on the other end. "Neither of us have our bags packed." A whistle came from the background. Vague cheering. Then mild cursing about how terrible this season's Gotham Guardsmen's picks were. She sighed. "The little green monster's dropped-in since your wedding. Don't get me wrong. I couldn't be happier for you if you were my own sister."

Y/N wished Patricia was within arm's reach instead of all the way in Burnside.

"Next month we'll have been married thirty-five years," Patricia continued with a rare nostalgia. "We're a team, Robert and me. But we've both let things go, gotten old. I'd like the spark back before we lose the kindling."

Pursing her lips, Y/N bit back her qualms. Rebutting the steps Patricia had taken was uncalled for, and doubly so when she needed her support. Besides. Y/N understood them. She'd climbed them once, too.

When she'd begun to figure out the direction in which the weather vane of her life pointed, the comfort and confidence she'd shared with her ex-husband had started to wither. Transformed over the years into an awareness that her childish belief in love being enough was inaccurate. It was natural, she thought in hindsight. They'd wed at seventeen and twenty-one. But divorce had been uncommon back then, particularly in a small town in the Bible Belt. The night she'd moved in with a friend (a tactic to delay confessing defeat to her family), Jeff suggested they speak with a professional. Though her heart had known it was over, she cared for him. She couldn't deny them the chance to salvage their union, no matter how remote.

A solitary counselor was available, a disadvantage of rural living. The man claimed to be a pioneer in couples therapy, having begun his practice in the thirties. One forty-five-minute drive later and they'd found themselves squished into a leather loveseat in a smoky, cramped office. Diplomas and certificates covered the walls, the veracity of which she couldn't verify. Dr. Ellis's puffy pink cheeks and offer of sweet tea had been kinder than his approach.

Fountain pens and worksheets were provided with the mumbled instruction to answer honestly. But the questions had not fit her situation. They were for women who desired to be happy homemakers. To plan meals and do the weekly shopping. To nurse children and have dinner ready by six. Responsibilities and life stages that had given her mother purpose - a purpose that mostly eluded Y/N. Every comma and quotation mark inferred fault. And Dr. Ellis had read her responses like a disappointed teacher.

Somehow the filmstrips, accompanied by a crackling LP, were worse. Mr. Provider and Mrs. Housewife were featured. He consistently came home on time. She always wore an apron. The narrator's spiritless voice contrasted with the cheery soundtrack while matching Y/N's mood. A lively ping! cued them to advance to the next still, a duty switched between her and Jeff to practice teamwork. At least the sidelong looks they shared could still connect them.

The slides, the homework, the speeches. They all pointed to one problem: her. Her parents were a model couple. Didn't she know encouraging her husband in his livelihood was her job? That his main obligation was to invite her to share his success? She had to mend her ways. Make herself more attractive. Be grateful he displayed his affection by returning to her after a long day at the office; he could just as easily hang out at The Rusty Boot.

Not a little indignant, she'd stared at Jeff's profile. Downcast eyes betrayed his regret and assured she'd maintain composure, for his sake if nothing else. She fixed her focus on Dr. Ellis and gave the situation a good, long think. Jeff had never questioned her ambitions. Who the hell was this jackass to judge?

She'd covered Jeff's hand, rubbed his knuckle with her thumb. "You're the expert here, doctor. But isn't it possible neither party is at fault?"

"Mrs. Thompson, I've heard that misconception from many of my clients. It's never led anywhere positive. Now-"

"But what if they're both good people?" she interrupted, hanging onto diplomacy by a thread. Her resolve stayed, even as her volume lowered at the prospect of wounding the man she'd loved as a girl. "Good people who've grown apart?"

Dr. Ellis took what she'd learned was his usual position on the corner of his cherry desk. "You're mistaking natural sex differences for incompatibility. Not every husband allows his wife to work outside the home." His paternal smile hadn't diminished the sting of his words. "If you want your marriage to thrive, I'd advise a little more maturity. And I think I have just the book to help you."

Twenty tons of silence festered on the ride home, louder than the pulse beating her eardrum. Distress distracted her from noticing the run in her stockings. And it was drizzling. She cracked the passenger window of the Lincoln Continental, anyway. Closed her eyes at the bite of raw air against her overheated face.

"Look, I don't agree with what that guy says," Jeff started. He pulled at the gearshift and flicked the turn-signal. "Not when it comes to you."

As the car came to a stop, she swiped at her eyes. "I'm not going again." The press of a napkin to her palm prompted a mix of appreciation and annoyance. For his courtesy and that he'd detected her tears. "Do you even like being married to me?"

"Y/N-"

"Please." She flinched at his attempt to embrace her. "Don't spare my feelings."

Headlights from a passing car flashed in the cabin, revealing his stretched lips. He raked back his thinning hair. The quiet shake of his head when he moved to gaze at her was a relief. "I miss the girl I fell in love with."

She offered a slight shrug and pulled the corners of the tissue. "I don't like it, either."

His rapid blink softened her posture, along with the recognition that the dream they'd had was also out of reach for him. "I'm proud of the woman you've become," he said. "Even if she's not what I need."

"I don't want to be a lawyer's wife." A quiet laugh bubbled up. "The oral arguments are terrible."

He checked his blind spot and put the sedan back into drive. "I'll file the papers tomorrow. We can tell your parents and sister together. If you'd like." After some seconds, she'd slid across the bench seat and put her head on his shoulder, heartened by an affinity she'd nearly forgotten.

Counseling techniques must have evolved, Y/N considered. Perhaps Patricia would find help instead of blame. If not, tips in women's magazines were a tacky if economical alternative. She'd have to check the breakroom at work for forgotten issues.

She hopped off the counter and poured herself another cup of decaf. "Let me know if we can do anything. And how it goes."

"The first few sessions were great. I picked up a few booklets. 'Modern Marriage,' 'The Complete Woman...' Oh!" Paper shuffled as Y/N put back the milk. "'Enrichment & Exploration: Tips for Bedroom Fun.' I tried reading it with Robert the other night, but he left when I mentioned massagers and blindfolds."

"He's sixty," Y/N snorted. "Give him time."

Peeking around the corner, she spotted Arthur in his writing nook. He stood to stretch, then grab his lighter and pack of Stuttons. The low sit of his pajama bottoms was enough of a temptation for her to tuck her lip. An unexpected spasm tickled her abdomen. "Brief me on the blindfold chapter."

~~~~~

Nervous anticipation had kept her feverish for hours, ever since she'd bid farewell to Arthur with a "Save a smile for me" on her way out the door. His clumsy smooch lingered as she changed the date on her rubber stamp. While she cleaned the office refrigerator, she spent a good sixty seconds pressing a cup of expired yogurt to her flush cheeks. When the shoulder strap of her canvas bag gave out, she shrugged rather than cursed and settled the tote in her lap. With her plan in mind, the corners of her lips refused to relax .

After working the grand opening of the Gotham Mall, Arthur had the workshop she'd registered him for, a beginners' seminar for stand-ups. He'd be home right around six. That would give her thirty minutes to change into her mini nightdress with the ruffled hemline, dab musk oil behind her earlobes, and put on an LP. Dinner would be delayed - neither of them would be in the mood if they were too full. If she remembered correctly, they had a pizza in the freezer, the good kind with the real pepperoni and rising crust. She just had to figure out if she should wait in the bedroom or lounge on the sofa like a poor-man's Lauren Bacall.

As she unlocked the apartment, however, there came a muffled phomp-phomp-phomp. The unmistakable sound of a sink plunger. Fuck. This was the third time this month. Pushing through the door, she hoped the super had called a different plumber. It had taken ages to clean up the stray sediment left behind by the last one. Upon entering, Arthur's plaid bag came into view, next to his keys on the counter. A glance into the kitchen confirmed he was trying his hand at the repair. 

"Hey." Y/N hung her coat, glad her consternation was hidden by the wall. "What happened to your class?" she asked with deliberate playfulness. "Did they decide you were too advanced?" She crossed her arms and moved to the doorway. Tried to hold onto the tendrils of fading arousal by taking him in.

A pleased chuckle. "The instructor left a message." Phomp-phomp-phomp."It'll be rescheduled."

"I know you were looking forward to it." The rolled-up sleeves of his shirt and flexing biceps were having the right effect. She ambled towards him. "Let me help."

"It's fine. I had to do this a lot at my old place." The set of his jaw tightened as it gave it another go.

They went through the litany of usual questions. Arthur contently reported the mall had gone well, except for a couple of teenagers who'd given him grief at the start. ("Nothing serious. They were just kids.") Her nine-to-five had been quite low-key, she explained, and had allowed her to catch-up on a backlog of paperwork. ("With the new judge, we keep having to file motions for correction.") But when he asked about this evening, she mused and tapped her fingertips on the counter. Horny, annoyed at her thwarted plan, yet nevertheless itching to seduce him

Water streamed as he turned the faucet's handle, followed by his satisfied hum. He tidied up, then washed to his elbows. Grabbed the nearby dish towel and pivoted on his heel to face her. "What is it?" he asked at her lack of response. He wiped his hands a little harder. "I thought you'd be glad I'm already here."

Seeking to allay his concern, she scooted next to him with a gentle nudge. "You know I am. You've been running through my head all day." She scrunched her nose. "I just had this idea for a romantic evening and wanted to surprise you."

"Oh." Pink colored his chiseled cheekbones and his eyes softened. "You still could. I'd like that." Ardor sparked anew in her belly. Unfurled as he leaned into her, grin cutting across his mouth and straight into her heart. "Would ten minutes be enough?"

Her toes curled. His enthusiasm for her, for them, had a habit of sending electricity up her spine. "Better make it eight," she pronounced.

A sharp nod and a pat to her bottom later, he dashed off. Once the bathroom door shut, Y/N rushed to rummage in his workbag, delighted when she found her prize. She scurried to the stereo and put on one of her soul records. Adjusted the volume to a suggestion instead of distraction. Though the genre wasn't his favorite, it never failed to induce the swivel of his hips. Unbuttoning, unzipping, she made her way to the bedroom. Yanked off her tan skirt and jacquard sweater before carelessly tossing them in the nearby chair.

She'd just gotten settled on the foot of the bed when Arthur sauntered in. Clad in his white briefs and wrinkled socks. "That was five," she said and wadded her pantyhose to hurl at him.

He dodged it easily, stepping forward to gaze at her with hooded eyes, their clear green darkened with need. He licked his lips. "I think it was four." Without further preamble, he knelt between her legs. Scrambling up the bed, she kicked subtly against his hold on her calves. Bit her lip on a giggle as he crawled over her lap to smother her with kisses. She rested on the headboard and nabbed his red and gold Carnival tie from under her pillow.

He quirked a dark brow. "What, you want me to wear it?"

Before any reservation could resurface, she smoothed the broad neck of the tie over her eyes and secured it loosely at her temple. Hesitation floated through the air. Threatened to pierce the veil of desire that enveloped her. She wondered what he was waiting for. If he was wearing that wolfish grin he saved for the bedroom. Or if a modicum of anxiety had spawned. She had sprung this on him without prior discussion. The muffled music from the living room switched to the next song. She attempted to peek under the bottom of the makeshift blindfold, tried to make out more than a vague shadow in the muted light.

But then he sunk into her. Wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pressed her into the mattress. "If you're uncomfortable, tell me," he murmured into her mouth. "Please."

The implication of his request, albeit more loving than licentious, wracked her with want. She couldn't halt her shudder. Blindly, she reached to cup his face. "I trust you," she promised. To both him and herself.

His round nose dragged down the underside of her jaw. "Where'd you get this idea?"

The caress of his smile on the crook of her neck caused a delicious heaviness to settle in her center. "A pamphlet."

"On what?" He tugged at the knot between her ample breasts. Fondled her through the thin satin. "How to make your husband high-strung?"

She carefully skimmed the rigid bulge in his briefs with her knee. "It was actually on how to loosen him up," she retorted. He always loved it when she paraphrased one of his jokes.

Every hushed kiss, every whisper of him against her flesh was magnified. Forced her to concentrate solely on him, to pay attention to each move he made. His humid, hot breath teased her nipple, prompted it to pebble with a twinge. When she released an embarrassingly desperate whimper, he snorted lightly and slipped his palm to the middle of her back. Following his lead, she arched into him. His soft curls brushed her as he laved her areola, swirled his tongue around it, her skin coming alive at the contact. Weathered hands that had so eagerly learned how to touch her groped her neglected breast, rolled its peak between slender, nimble fingers. She fisted the pillow, tipped her head, and grasped his shoulder with a cry. "Arthur..."

Getting her going usually wasn't difficult. Especially when she'd been thinking about making love for an inappropriate number of office hours. But the suspense of not seeing where he'd next pet her, of every caress being a discovery, had her core already pulsing for him. The intrigue was a treat. The best case she'd ever worked on. His strokes walked a path to every clue.

His fingertips skimmed her inner thighs. Groaning, he hooked them under the waistband of her bikini, tugged until she lifted her rear. He pulled them off hastily. With a gentle pressure, he encouraged her to open herself to him. She did so gladly, splaying her legs without a hint of self-consciousness. The relatively cool temperature of the room hit her hot, swollen folds and she quivered.

Then there was an odd sensation at her clit. Scratchy. Rough like a canvas. And was that a corner? After a few seconds it was clear it wasn't doing it for her. And she didn't think Arthur was trying to wipe away her slick. Reaching down, she found a twisted bedsheet in his fist. She was relieved he hadn't run to the kitchen for ice.

"Not good?" he asked.

She softened the blow. "You feel better."

The pad of his thumb trailed over her patch of springy hair, a faint tease that sent a dizzying current racing through her limbs. She strove towards him but he didn't oblige. Rather, he took her hand and placed it on her labia. Guided her to dip within her inner lips. A short moan left her, at the sensation and the sound of his increasingly labored breathing, tinged by his deep voice. "You look like sex," he blurted.

Laughing, she halted. Whenever something brazen spilled from his mouth, however left-footed, she adored it. She clasped his sides. "What does that mean?"

"If I'd seen you in a magazine," he started, moving to settle over and straddle her. His hard-on grazed her abdomen, leaving a damp trail of his arousal in its wake. Even as she wondered when he'd taken off his underwear, her muscles tensed and she gasped. Playful pecks met her cleavage. "You'd be pasted on every page of my journal."

Her reply slipped out before discretion could take hold. "We better buy a Polaroid." A stitch of reluctance before she added, "Just keep them in your desk."

He uncurled her fingers and pressed her palm to his chest. "Touch me," he whispered, pleaded. Her pulse quickened. With an unhurried deliberation, he guided her over the peaks and valleys of his body. The lean pectorals she loved to nuzzle after a weary day. The freckled indent of his sternum. Downward, to the slightly loose skin around his navel, then the soft, toned curve of his abdomen.

Unable to resist, she stretched to chart the ridge of muscle leading to his groin. "You make me so wet."

He let out a bashful giggle, edged with excitement. The instant he rasped his next words against her forehead, she knew he was doing his damnedest to rival her. He pushed her hand to his erection. "You make me so hard."

She followed the bulging vein from base to tip, encircled him with a firm grip. The vibration of his harsh grunt rumbled through her and he jerked forward. Released her wrist to stroke her vulva and flick back and forth along her aching nub. Focusing on the satiny feel of his flesh, the heaviness of his length, she felt petite. Feminine. Powerful. Her hand glided between his legs, cupped the sensitive skin with care. His practiced rhythm faltered. The elbow beside her ear trembled.

While he was a captivating visual, one she missed, her imagination was determined to compensate for her lack of sight. Breathless moans spun her fantasies. Perspiration tickled her nose, woodsy and sweet, conjuring memories of his taste in her mouth. Then all at once he was inside her, going down on her, sucking at her while fucking into her. Impossible feats that nevertheless caused a fever in her brain. "Oh, god," she mewled. Her wanton writhing hastened. She ground against his thigh. "I want your cock in me."

He took hold of himself as she held herself open. The blunt tip of him slid just inside her entrance, a drop when she needed an ocean. She grabbed his hips and thrust upward, hissing as he stretched her completely. "You're fucking tight," he uttered through clenched teeth.

She smoothed her palms over his back, memorized each notch of his ribs. The odd angle of his distended shoulder. The strong tendons at the nape of his neck. He crushed her closer, until her mouth bumped his clavicle. She nibbled lightly, licked the salty sheen of sweat from its hollow, drawing her name from his lips and rapid bucks of his pelvis. "Fuck me," she said, a command and an appeal.

A creak came from above. She followed his taut arm to find he'd clutched the headboard. It occurred to her, then, that her inability to see had been liberating for him. Enough to let go of his inhibitions, to give voice to the bawdy, wonderful things he'd said, to not worry about his appearance.

She reached to swipe her clit steadily, relentlessly. Tears pricked her eyes as she became weightless. Her frame seized, and she came with a choked cry. She sniffled and laughed into his neck, overwhelmed by him. The way he made love to her as if he sought to erase her earlier trials and replace them with the present.

His throaty, punctuated groans, his fingernails digging into her ass divulged his approaching release. She ran her foot along his calf, relished in his body as its angles pressed into her. He balanced himself on his knees, snapping into her at an erratic pace. Then all at once he moaned sharply and went rigid, cock twitching. She cradled the back of his head while his essence marked her walls, closed her eyes when he sprawled on top of her.

Raking her hands through his loose waves, she swallowed thickly. Although she'd always enjoyed sex, exploring this way hadn't been conceivable with anyone else. Allowing that match to light, allowing herself to fan that flame had been unthinkable. She'd felt inadequate. Unable to live up to others' demands, especially her own. There'd been too many boxes to check. Revealing herself in that way would have been a demonstration of trust she wasn't quite ready for.

Being an established woman on equal footing with her partner wasn't something she'd believed possible. She'd been content to go without and find meaning through her work. Arthur had helped her augment that. She could be tough as old leather or delicate as gossamer without concern he'd see her differently. If expectations were left unmet, their easy discussions and compromises promised they'd never become resentments. They supported each other - authentically and as themselves.

For the first time, she knew she was loved for who she truly was. And she wouldn't have to change to keep it.

Choppy panting gradually ceased, replaced by leisurely, happy sighs. He skimmed her flank, then the curve of her hip. She tickled his midriff gently, only stopping when he reclaimed her lips and slid his tongue against hers. Tenderly, he loosened the knot at her temple. She blinked at the orange, evening light invading her eyes. When his came into focus, they were still dilated, a tad sleepy. And so full of affection her breath caught.

Cheek propped on the heel of his hand, he raised his eyebrows. "How was it?"

"You have to ask?" she chuckled, swatting his backside.

A stray lock tumbled towards her as he bent closer. "I wanna hear it."

"Wonderful." Her thighs tightened, keeping him within her. "What I've been craving all day."

His smile was a slow build, equal parts shy and deservedly smug. Then he stared at his tie. "I- I don't know if I'll ever be able to wear that again."

She snorted and looped it around his neck, secured it with a half-Windsor knot. "You're a professional, Mr. Fleck. You'll manage."

He rolled to her left and yanked open the nightstand drawer to riffle through its contents. "What else is in the pamphlet?"

"Hey!" She batted him half-heartedly, boosted herself on her elbow, and spooned him. "What if I had a surprise hidden in there?"

Undeterred, he huffed. "It wouldn't beat this."

"Patricia told me about it." He stilled and slanted his gaze her way. "I can get a copy."

At first, Y/N assumed he'd contradict her. That he wanted to keep their escapades private. But once a few seconds had passed, Arthur acquiesced with a smirk and snatched a nearby tissue. Wiped himself off and tossed it in the woven wastebasket. He reclined beside her, hands folded behind his head. "Okay. Just don't give away my whole act."

~~~~~

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[themadauthorshatter]

If you're up to date with my posts, then you know what's about to happen.

I've read the books, WE'VE ALL READ THE BOOKS, but this is a somewhat fun switch-a-roo.

Expect a BUNCH of changes that I'll try justifying, especially painful ones, so bear with me🙏

OTP SWAP PART 1: THE CRUEL PRINCE!!!!

I'm starting with the first book for obvious reasons

Like before, we start in the mortal world with Ashley Duarte(yes, human!Cardan's last name is Duarte, but like I said, bear with me) making tacos in the kitchen while one of the MANY dogs and other animals wait for her to drop some food. Baby boy Cardan and his older half-sister Rhyia are watching some human stuff, maybe Looney Tunes or old Mickey Mouse cartoons, when the door is knocked on, which alerts the animals and wakes a half asleep Cardan; Rhyia does not wake up.

Cardan answers it and finds a cloaked Madoc at the door. Rather than ask who he is or call for his mother, he stares at this man, who kneels and asks as evenly as possible if his mother is home.

Cardan slams the door in his face, which prompts Ashley to ask why he did so.

Madoc BANGS on the door and shouts, "Asha!" and Ashley pales as she realizes who is at the door.

She demands Cardan to go upstairs as Madoc kicks the door open and walks inside, giving the same speech as the original, that Balekin told him she'd ran away with his daughter, that she killed a woman who was just as pregnant as her, that she ran away and married some lowly farm hand and blacksmith. He thought it was a lie, but nope. Here she stands.

Asha(which is her real name) is deeply ashamed at his words, and tries to pull Cardan away; an angry Madoc is an unstable Madoc.

Like before, Justin rushes in to save his family, but ends up getting kebabbed with his wife.

Rhyia does wake up to see both and Madoc spills the tea that she's his and needs to pack her bags because they're leaving, and Cardan's coming with.

Cardan, despite being seven, is outraged and tries to kick Madoc into oblivion with no avail. Rhyia, however, swears that she'll never love a monster like Madoc, who simply scoffs and tells her to wrangle the human and gather her things in half an hour, because they're leaving for Faerie.

Reluctantly, they do and they never see the mortal world again for a very long time.

Jump to the present day as Cardan, a now seventeen year old human heart throb, is getting prim and proper for a revel. His hair is getting styled nice, he's in a nice suit, he's wearing a cool belt that makes him look like he has a tail, and has ear cuffs that make his ears look pointed like a faerie.

He also has rowan berries on his wrist, because he doesn't want the necklace to be easy to see as a lot of his shirts show his chest.

He's dolled up and meets Locke, his brother that came around when Madoc married Oriana and had Oak. The two did not get along, at first, but they began to tolerate each ither as they realized they were the only humans in Faerie that were gentry kids.

Locke is more of a bard or a poet, always seen with a little book, and doesn't wear the same stuff Cardan does, so no pointed ear cuffs for him. He's also more accustomed to Faerie, being good with half truths and minor deception. He's on good terms with both Madoc and Oriana.

Cardan, however, is not on good terms with either of them, as he has tried multiple times to leave Faerie, with and without Rhyia with him, and every time ended with Madoc outside scowling at him and leading him back to his room. Still has that 'no kill' rule, but he's better with sneaking and a sword, having been able to lighten his steps so he could sneak past Madoc and his guards whenever he tried to leave. He's not bad with a sword, but he still has a lot to learn, being 17 and all. When he doesn't have a sword in his hands, he has an animal in them, i.e. a foal, a dog, or, at one point, a skunk that was calm enough to not spray him. Yeah, animal lover that can hold his own.

The two exchange banter and Locke shows show rare excitement for this revel, saying the two will have the time of their lives. Locke, who isn't as close with her, wonders where Rhyia is, but Cardan reveals she's not attending, instead going to visit some friends in the mortal world.

Her funeral as the boys saddle up with Oriana amd Madic and go to the revel.

Similar events occur, like Oriana telling the boys to be careful, Madoc talking to Dain and Balekin, and Locke leading Cardan through the revel so they can have a good time.

IT GOES DOWNHILL WHEN THE GREENBRIAR TWINS AND THEIR FRIENDS ARRIVE. Jude, her older sister Taryn, and their friends, Edir, a bard that can sing and play anyone under the table, Valerian, who's a sadist, and Nicasia, the princess of the Undersea.

Jude and Taryn may have the same face and body, but don't be fooled, Jude has horns, always wears a sword, and will slap you in a dress and then set it on fire without a second’s hesitation. Taryn, however, always has a bunch of flowers in her hair, always wears a dress, and uses words as her weapon. Did you know that she broke on of the most boisterous men in Faerie qith nothing but her words? True story. Edir is the guy that keeps them both in check, an order of Balekin's, which we'll learn later. He is also more of Jude's friend and Taryn's bed buddy, in SFW terms. Nicasia is Jude's friend, like FRIEND, and Valerian is the same, really, just more of an ass now that he has more even targets.

Everyone bows to these guys, even Cardan and a smirking Locke. That smirk vanishes when Taryn winks at Cardan, who Jude GLARES AT.

Locke feels the same way, cinfused and angry, but no time to think in it because Valerian storms toward a confused Cardan and grabs him by the collar, snarling that he can play dress up and make believe all he wants because it won't hide his plain hair or round ears or barn dog smell, so he shouldn't even bother.

Valerian throws him back and Locke rounds on Cardan, asking him what the hell that was between him and Taryn. Cardan brushes him off, as it was just a wink, not a lap dance. Before they can REALLY go at it, crying draws their attention and see that Jude just pincushioned someone who didn't bow, said someone nkw having a hole in their stomach and a slash across their torso. Taryn is annoyed, Nicasia and Valerian are trying not to laugh, and Edir, who's embarassed, is scolding Jude for losing it at a revel.

Jump to after the revel and the day of school. The boys do indeed get dirt kicked on their food, but instead of 'make me,' Cardan snaps, 'TRY me,' because Nicasia asks if he's as filthy as other human boys. Locke talks him down, but Valerian, kicking more dirt and even throwing some IN Cardan's face, asks if the two qould like them for friends.

Locke apologizes for Cardan, but Jude commands he prove it by dropping out of the tournament, it'll be less embarrassing than getting his ass beaten in front of everyone.

Nicasia spots one of the ear cuffs and pulls it off, asking if he stole it. Big mistake because the cuff burns her hand, as it is iron and iron hurts Faeries.

Cardan smirks and the group leaves, Locke scolding him for being stupid.

Later, at dinnner, after talk of Dain's coronation, Cardan, despite some minor objection from Rhyia, asks Madoc a question: May he please have a green sash for the tournament? Why? He would like to be a knight, please and thank you. Madoc chikes on his wine, Locke coughs to hide a laugh, Rhyia winces, and Oriana os shicked into silence.

Madoc gives it to him straight: he's not bad with a sword, he's good on his feet,and he's the best damned rider that anyone's ever seen, but no. He cannot compete for knighthood, on the count of being the furthest thing from a killer imaginable and just being in over his head.

Cardan protests that he can do just fine, but Madoc warns him to stop before he gets himself thrown in a dungeon instead if his room until the coronation of prince Dain.

Cardan relinquishes and we get the salt prank like before, except Locke is pissed beyond all reason at his foster brother. Cardan doesn't mind until he's grabbed by Edir and Valerian, Locke being pulled by the hair by Jude and both are thrown in the river, which has Nixies in it.

Thier supplies get yeeted, Locke gets pulled out by Valerian and is made to kiss Jude on the lips and both her horns, but, when asked, Cardan does not give up, vowing that he will never give up, which makes Jude laugh and the group leave.

Locke and Cardan walk home, get some baths, and go to bed, except they go to the mortal world with Rhyia and meet her friends Vivienne and Heather at the mall. Vivienne apologizes for Jude's behavior, and we learn that Rhyia is planning to leave Faerie, and is probably going alone.

The boys return and endure a lesson, but Jude pushes Locke's buttons, so Cardan pushes her into a tree. Challenge accepted.

TOURNAMENT TIME!! Cardan fairs wellin that Valerian is lazy, Edir is out of shape, and Jude got cocky, so he wins.

Jude fumes at him, later grabbing him by the tail on his belt amd demanding he beg for her forgiveness. He does... NOT! And spits in her face that she may push him down, but he'll pull her down with him, and it will hurt her like hell.

Taryn approaches him and expresses interest in him, saying that she once took both Edir and Nicasia from Jude because people just like a sensitive girl.

She leaves and the tournament eventually ends, which leads Cardan to return hime and meet Dain, who requested one of Madoc's people to tell Cardan one of Eldred's children had come for a visit.

Dain and Cardan get talking and Dain offers him something that isn't knighthood: spying. Plus one wish.

Cardan knows what he wants: to not be controled.

Granted, but Dain can still control him and the fruits of Faerie will still effect him.

Screwy, but deal, he's a spy now

STAY TUNED FOR PART 2!!!!!

[lemonjoonah]

In Need of Orders (M)

Pairings: Seokjin x Reader Word Count: 15K Rating: M Genre: Kingsman AU, action, drama, romance, smut, comedy, rivals to lovers  Warnings: violence, swearing, public foreplay, slight dom/sub dynamics which interchange (Seokjin is a bratty switch), discussion of safeword, light bondage, masturbation, voyeurism, oral sex (fem receiving), unprotected sex, small amount of cum eating, sexism in the workplace, referenced death of minor character, Seokjin and reader are bad at feelings.

Summary: After a disastrous mission, which lead to the destruction of your prized invention and the compromise of his cover, Seokjin is confined to your base, and placed under your command. Now that he’s stuck with little to do, he uses his time to investigate a past you simply want to forget.

A/N: AU based off the Kingsman Series, originally written by Mark Miller. There’s a mix of tech origins, the com-glasses, and poison-pen, were from the movie and the rest of the inventions are my own creation. Members will occasionally be referred to by their titles but I try and use their actual name as much as possible, here’s a list of members/characters and their corresponding titles: Reader - Merlin | Seokjin - Galahad |  Yoongi - Percival | Hoseok - Lancelot | Namjoon - (current) Arthur |

....

“No, no, no. NO! Seokjin, what did you do to my beautiful baby?!” You circle around what was once your wondrous invention. Your masterpiece of a vehicle that had taken years to get just right. When Yoongi dropped in a couple hours ago and told you to expect an unpleasant delivery you never could have imagined this. Unpleasant doesn’t begin to cover the damage done, this is an act of desecration. 

“Merlin, titles please! Without manners we are nothing,” Seokjin chides you, paraphrasing the principal motto as if it will save him from your wrath. You’ve reached your limit with him; there's no benefit you can see in maintaining pleasantries. 

“You will get my manners when you deserve them,” you growl back. “Now why did you sink my prized creation?”

“The cloaking device was faulty.” He shrugs off the loss like it’s nothing, no harm to him and therefore no foul.

“I find that hard to believe.” You’ve run this car through every test, checked every parameter, you would never have let it leave this workshop if it posed a danger to exposing agents.

“It was! I was conducting surveillance on a target when they became aware of my presence. They retaliated, so I needed a quick escape. I was on the overpass near the river, I knew there was a small oxygen tank in the glove compartment for emergencies-”

“So driving it off a bridge seemed like the best option?” You never thought you’d regret seeing the day you installed that safety feature, one that you intended for use in case of a gas or chemical assault, but here it is. “Tell me,” You look from your precious machine back to the monster who destroyed it, “What exactly were you doing when you noticed the glitch?”

“Just driving, maybe going around eighty. Does it really matter?” He sighs. “They saw me coming so I had to take cover or they would have shot me.” 

“Oh no, it works perfectly fine.” Your voice starts to echo through the workshop as your fury bubbles over. “When the user reads the manual and understands that cloaking only works when in a stationary position. I am a scientist not an actual fucking magician Seokjin! Of course you can’t travel when cloaked. If you had at least skimmed the booklet I gave you, you would have understood that!”

The technology you created doesn’t make the car invisible, instead it projects the images behind it to make it appear that way. It can only account for and cover small changes in movement, not whole vehicles travelling. Only an idiot would think that it could compensate for such drastic shifts to the backdrop. And for some reason that moron dares to continue arguing with you.  

“Booklet? That thing was a thousand pages long! You actually expected me to read that?” He counters his voice rising to combat yours.

“Oh, I’m sorry would you like me to make an audio-book for you next time? Or better yet I could make a grade school reader complete with pictures. Maybe that’ll hold your attention!”

There’s a sudden shift in his expression, with a thick smile forming on his face. “I suppose I wouldn't say no to a recording if it was read by you.” His words ooze with flirtatious mire, intent on sucking you in. 

Seokjin’s smirks and one liners have gotten him out of trouble many times with other agents. It’s not hard to see why, the man could be considered the most attractive of all your acquaintances,  but you refuse to let this drop simply because he’s batting his eyes in your direction. You grit your teeth and continue to chew him out. “Lancelot and Percival read it, I don’t see why I can’t hold you to the same standard.” 

“Fine, fine I’ll look it over.” He huffs in surrender, but even in defeat he still carries a playfulness in his tone. “When do you think you can get it back up and running again?”

“If you think I’m going to take time out of my schedule to fix this, only for you to go destroy it again, you have some nerve.” You can barely even register the destruction let alone process how much time it’ll take to repair everything. With the dents in the body work, the flooded engine, and the electrics most certainly fried, you're looking at weeks of work just to make it drivable again. But bringing it back to its full potential? That will require months of tinkering.

“What could you possibly have to do that’s more important than this.” Seokjin is clearly trying to hold back a snicker, but when a small snort escapes him, all remaining control of your temper vanishes.

“Seokjin, so help me god if you don’t leave my line of sight in three seconds, I’ll do those men a favour and shoot you myself.”

He chuckles at your threat, “You’re not-”  

“One.” You reach for your holster and take hold of your gun.

“Serious.” The laughter in his face starts to fade. 

“Two.” You disengage the safety and take aim.

“You won’t actually shoot me.”

“Th-” 

“At ease Merlin.” Yoongi interjects, entering the room with his face buried in a file. His indifference is a true sign of how well he knows you. You were only going to relieve Seokjin of a few strands of hair, but maybe it’s better this way. The sound of gunfire would surely result in a slight loss of hearing, and Seokjin already has trouble listening. You sigh, lowering your pistol. 

“I can only guess you’ve both been discussing the...” Yoongi comments looking down at the remains of the car. “Accident.” 

“More like negligence,” You mutter, flicking a bit of mud off what was once a perfect paint job.

“Listen, I tried Percival,” Seokjin appeals to Yoongi. “We’ve been looking for this guy for months. I had him in my grasp,  I couldn’t risk losing him.”

“I know Galahad,” Yoongi rubs his brow as his gaze returns to the document in front of him “but there’s concern that you’ve been compromised, after reading your report there are worries that you might be identified and expose the operation. You’re on lock down for the remainder of the mission.”

“No! I’m so close to bringing him in. Just let me assist,” Seokjin pleads. You would probably feel bad for him if he hadn’t just gone and destroyed your life's work.

“The rest of the order doesn’t seem to agree. In fact they’ve called your work on this case,” Yoongi flips to another page of the file, “Reckless, irresponsible, and fails to even remotely represent their request for a covert operation...” He turns the file around to push it in Seokjin’s face. “And they’ve written those last two words in all caps, see?” 

You chuckle quietly, covering it with a cough but Yoongi doesn’t look convinced. His gaze shifts to you as he hands down the rest of the directive. “Due to these recent events, Galahad is to remain here for the duration of the operation. Under your orders.”

“Wait, what?! Why are they punishing me too?”

“It’s not meant to be a punishment Merlin.”

“The fuck it isn’t. Why can’t Lancelot look after him? It was his idea to allow him on the mission.” You admire Hoseok greatly, but in your opinion it was a bad decision to add Seokjin to the roster for this operation. 

“If Lancelot or I are seen with him then our cover will be blown too.” Yoongi reasons, “You’re the only one who operates completely behind the scenes.”

“But why do I have to be put under command of another agent?” Seokjin interjects.

“Because, you are clearly in need of orders until you can get your rash instincts under control. Just be grateful it’s not a complete dismissal.” Yoongi starts to step away with the matter settled.

There goes your peace and quiet. Unless... you call out to Yoongi with one last shred of hope. “Permission to put him under a gag order for every possible topic of conversation?”

“Denied, but nice try Merlin.” Yoongi smirks as he enters the elevator which will bring him back above ground.

Yep, you’re truly going to be living your own personal hell in such tight quarters. A small work den and communications relay located beneath a PC bang in the heart of Seoul. The base was never intended to host more than one for a long term stay. It’s purpose is for agents to stock up, gather their orders sent from headquarters, and then leave. The only person who actually stays on site is you. “Well then, the bedroom’s mine but you can take the sofa. Don’t touch what’s mine without my consent and we shouldn’t have a problem. Is that clear?” You lay down the rules quickly not wanting to prolong any further conversation with your new resident.

“Yes Ma’am.” Seokjin answers looking truly defeated for once.    

“If you’ll excuse me I have work to do.”You brush past him towards your computer, needing to assess what components you’ll need to order first for repairs.

“Wait, what am I supposed to do?” 

“You’re a big boy, I’m sure you can figure something out.” You respond keeping your eyes focused on the screen.

“Could you show me how to fix it?” His unusually quiet request manages to break your concentration.

“Fix what, the car?” You glance back at him with narrowed eyes, trying to figure out his angle. “Why would I do that?”

“Well for starters I probably can’t fuck it up any more than it is.” He laughs but your lack of reaction kills his joke rather quickly. “It would cut down your workload. Give me a better appreciation for what you do. You would get to order me around. And who knows, you might even enjoy my company.”

He’s right, you could use the extra pair of hands, and he might learn something. “Fine, you can start by reading this.” You fling the tome of a manual at his chest, causing him to grunt from the impact. “Report to me when you're done.”  

...

“How can you even call that a couch? I’ve seen footrests bigger than that disappointment.” Seokjin comments as he enters the workshop. You slide out from under your car to find his hands tending to the muscles at the back of his neck, and heavy bags resting under his eyes. It's the first time you’ve seen him exist at a fraction less than perfection in his appearance, a gratifying perk in this unfavourable situation.  

“It’s all that would fit.” You grab a towel laying on the floor next to you cleaning the dark grease of the car off your skin. Usually you wouldn’t bother wiping it off just yet, but having Seokjin in your presence has made you oddly self-conscious. “You might have noticed space is limited here.”

“Then who’s idiotic idea was is to make a base in this shoe box of a hole?” He grills you, probably intending to roast the architect of such a small site. 

“Mine actually. After the data breach a year and a half ago we needed something more secure. There’s so much information streaming to and from this location that it makes it difficult for anyone to find our dealings. It’s the perfect spot.”

“Perfect if you’re a mouse.” Seokjin takes a seat in your straight-backed desk chair. Groaning as his fingers continue to knead, moving down to his wide shoulders.

“Are you implying I’m some kind of rodent?” You glare up at him, ready to defend yourself against the slight.

“You should take it as a complement, mice are cute.” He gives you one of his famed smiles, the type where you can’t tell if he’s sincere or mocking.

“Why are you down here Seokjin?” You ask preparing to wheel back down beneath the undercarriage of your car. “I can’t imagine you’ve finished reading the manual already.”

“I did actually. This is me reporting for duty.” He throws the book down on to the floor next to you, marked and dog-eared. “Not a whole lot else I can do while on lock down.” 

“Is someone upset that Lancelot and Percival get to have all the fun? Maybe it’ll teach you to obey orders better, rather than getting stuck here with me.”

“I can follow them just fine... when they don’t conflict with the completion of my mission.”

“Not getting spotted was part of your mission Seokjin.” Your response is dry as you state the obvious.

“Yes, but so is recovering the data from that breach, before he can unload it on someone else.”

“You don’t know that he has it. That’s why you had to observe him.”

“Listen to me, Hwang’s a fence, one whose been trying his best to stay off our grid, of course he has it. Once we find him we can track everything back to his source.” Seokjin’s confidence is admirable. You can’t deny that you would like to catch the one responsible for unleashing one hell of a computer virus that caused you and many others weeks of havoc and restless nights. The worst part is you don’t even know what they were able to get a hold of, the sooner Yoongi and Hoseok can track this man down the better.

“You still should have exerted more caution, you're not the only one on this team Seokjin, people can get hurt if you're too brash.” You’re surprised to find Seokjin nodding with his head hung low. Since when does he ever agree with you on something?  “Now that you’re done with the manual, I do have work to assign that I doubt even you can mess up. Every single electrical circuit and wire needs to be removed, it’s unlikely that any have survived the flooding so it would be safer just to take them all out. I’m going to see if I can save the engine.”

Seokjin gives you a cheeky two finger salute before he sets to work behind the dash.

Thirty minutes later he’s already back at it with questions. “Do you have any speakers set up for music?”

“No, we could have used the car radio if you hadn’t submerged it, but here we are.” You usually work in silence anyway, but getting to deliver another stab of guilt is better than admitting your regular tendencies. 

“Ah no problem, I can fix that.” At first you wonder if he intends to repair the radio, but when he proceeds to hum loudly, you realize that’s not the case. Instead he treats you to a selection of unrecognizable songs which you don’t bother to ask the title of.

You let it go for as long as you can, but thirty minutes later when you move from under the car to beneath the hood needing to drain the cylinders next, you finally raise the white flag in pursuit of silence. “Seokjin, please just stop okay?”

His chuckle taunts you, “That’s what you get for pulling a gun on me yesterday.”

“If you’re not careful I’ll do it again.” Your tone turns salty once you realize that is was his intent to torture your ears.

“Can’t believe you lasted that long, I thought for sure you were going to crack after five minutes of my melodies.”

“That’s what that was? I thought you jammed your thumb and were screaming out in pain the whole time.”

“Ha ha,” He retorts. You're almost upset when he goes quiet with nothing substantial to follow up your jab, but then he opens his mouth again. “How can you work when it’s so quiet?”

“Helps me focus when there’s no distractions.” You answer hoping that he’ll take the hint and remain silent.

“But doesn’t it get lonely?”

You slow your pace as you loosen the bolts on the gasket cover, choosing your words carefully as you make an attempt to side step that minefield of a query. “I work better when I’m by myself.”

“That wasn’t my question.” Seokjin catches on to your evasion proceeding to look around the hood of the car trying to meet your eyes.

“We all make sacrifices Seokjin. This is mine.”

“If you spoke to Arthur-”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” You try to cut him off quickly not wanting to get him involved in your circumstances, but he continues.

“I’m sure he would listen.”

“Drop the subject Seokjin, that’s an order.” You take a deep breath trying not to lose more of your composure again. “I chose to work in this place for several reasons. I don’t need to explain every one of them to you.”

Seokjin is surprisingly quiet for the rest of the day. It’s doubtful that you scared him off with your temper, he’s too confident for that. It’s more likely that he’s frustrated with you’re bickering. You hang back a bit more only giving direction when absolutely necessary. If you have to live with him you might as well attempt to make it bearable for the both of you.

That night you treat him to ramen from the business upstairs, they don’t usually do take-out but they make an exception for you. He sits across from you in a desk chair slurping his noodles while his eyes bore into you. “What, do I have something on my face?” You ask, starting to feel uncomfortable under his gaze.

Seokjin takes another slurp of his dish before he explains himself. “No, I’m just trying to figure you out.” 

“Please don’t.” You plead, not wanting to broach the same subject from earlier.

“You’re passionate about your work. You’re good at what you do. Your superiors trust you.” You groan with exasperation, nevertheless he persists. “You're lonely here. The order could put you anywhere and you would most likely excel, and yet you bury yourself here, in this hovel.”

“It’s not a hovel...” You mutter, but you’ve run out of energy to argue and your appetite has now vanished. Rising from your seat you bid him good night. “I’m going to bed. Clean up this mess when you're done, and try not to throw your neck out cramming yourself onto my couch again.” 

“Yes Ma’am.” He gives a muffled reply with noodles hanging from his mouth, and another fake salute.

You shake your head as you close your bedroom door behind you.

...

 “You know,” Seokjin bursts into your room early the next morning, startling you awake. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen test scores as high as these. Are you sure you’re not a magician Merlin, because these results seem too good to be true. ” 

You bolt upright in terror, “What are you looking at?”

“The start of your journey with the Kingsman.” He wanders around to sit at the foot of your bed as you drag the covers up to your chest. “I figured if there was an answer I would find it here, but I’ve never seen such an impressive resume. The last Arthur had you pegged from the beginning as the successor to your predecessor, he even recorded that his candidate didn’t stand a chance against you. You should be proud of this...” He leans to you reading the expressions on your face. “But you’re not. You’re scared. Why is that?”

“Stay out of my files Kim Seokjin.”

“Is that an order?” He asks his face still only a couple inches from yours when it pulls into smirk, looking pleased that he’s caught you off guard.

“Yes.”

“If I recall,” He closes the document in his hands, but his analysis continues, “You were moved here just shortly after Namjoon took over the position of Arthur. You were living the life before, testing and training new recruits, doling out orders and information. But then you fell into this pit. What did you do to piss him off?” 

    “Nothing, ju-just stop asking, okay? I don’t need your help, so stop trying to save me!” Your voice cracks as it reaches the point of yelling but he doesn’t back away. “Staying here alone, that was my choice. So don’t you dare try to take my one salvation away from me.” 

“I’m not trying to take it away. I just want to understand it.” He answers his tone controlled and calm while holding your gaze firmly in his. When you look away he finally gets up leaving you with your files on your dresser. 

...

A week passes and Seokjin continues to try and figure out why you chose to work in your closed off environment. Throwing out random and bizarre questions on what you might have done to Namjoon to get yourself stationed here.

“Did you expose his guilty pleasure for stuffed animals?” He asks as he helps you unbolt and remove seats, making room for the new chairs and bench which just arrived. 

“Does he have a guilty pleasure for such a thing?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking you.” Seokjin states with a snicker.

“No.” 

“Did you lose his glasses?’’ Seokjin inquires next as he pulls the seat from the driver side all on his own. You can’t help but notice the muscles straining through the back of his shirt as he lifts the heavy chair from its place. When he turns back around for the next you berate your pitiful self-control. Yes he’s attractive, but he’s also the current thorn in your side. God must be a sadist for creating this enticing man, with such a sharp tongue and a plaguing desire to mock you. 

“He does that just fine himself, he doesn’t need me to do it for him.” In fact, you have two pairs on backup for Namjoon at all times, just in case such a need should arise. 

“Did you sneak into his house and switch the sugar to salt in his tea set?”

“That’s just cruel,” You chuckle at the idea, making a mental note to check your own sugar before your next cup of coffee. “But no I didn’t.” 

“Well that’s it then, I’m out of ideas for today.” He heaves the passenger chair next to the other with an exhausted breath. A bead of sweat drips down his brow as he collapses on the new back bench waiting to be installed. 

“Really? I’m surprised. You haven’t asked the obvious question.” You lay the statement as bait hoping he’ll take hold so you can reel him in. To your delight, he does. 

“Oh and what’s that?” His eyes light up, with the chance that you might actually tell him something informative.

“Did I destroy his favourite vehicle? I mean, that’s why you’re stuck here isn’t it?” Seokjin glares at you in frustration, his gloom making you giggle. “But the answer to that too is no, I didn’t. I’m not a scoundrel.”

“Is that what I am to you now,” He presents a gleeful smile with a raised brow. “A scoundrel?”

“Why do you look so proud about that?” Your question is full of judgement, but his delight is not swayed.

“Because, scoundrels are sexy.” He tilts his head and bites his lip with a nod as if to make a point.

You let out an obnoxious laugh. “Maybe to some. I fail to see the appeal.”

“Then what do you consider sexy?”

“Someone who’s attentive, and dutiful. You know, an adult.” You attempt to describe the very traits he appears to lack to make your point. Though Seokjin’s looks might draw you in, you are in need of something more.

He rolls his eyes and scoffs, “Where’s the fun in that?”

“It’s not always about the fun, I just like someone who I can depend on.” 

Seokjin’s about to respond, his mouth open with a solemn stare in his eyes when the elevator chimes. It’s doors open for you to find a haggard Hoseok with two black empty bags. You greet him with surprise, having completely lost track of time, he had mentioned that he would be stopping by to pick up supplies. 

You hurry away to unlock and ready the stock. While Seokjin rushes in, barely even letting Hoseok off the lift, launching into an interrogation about the mission and any progress they’ve made. There’s only a few short words exchanged before the man left in your charge storms away slamming the door behind him as he exits the workshop to your common room.

“Lancelot?” You call out to Hoseok with hesitation, noticing that he’s still standing in place where Seokjin left him. Stepping in you help to take and load one of his duffles with surveillance equipment he requested. After Seokjin’s barrage he looks like he might rupture if you’re not careful.  

“Please no formalities,” He sighs in exhaustion, while he too starts to pack up what he needs. “I would prefer not to be an agent right now, even if it’s just for five minutes.”

“That bad?” You wince for Hoseok’s sake, he’s usually so optimistic, it’s worrisome to see him so beaten down.  

“We know Hwang’s back in Seoul, but any time we get a whiff of a more detailed location he vanishes. Yoongi and I have brought in more agents. We’re stationed in the south end of the city now, trying to keep an ear to the ground.” He zips up his case and then turns the conversation to you. “How are you holding up?”

“Fine I guess, but Seokjin’s been looking into my assignment here. He keeps trying to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong.” Hoseok is one of only a few who know why you chose such an assignment, and you would like to keep it that way.

“Maybe you should give it a smack then. Or better yet put him on a leash.” Hoseok finally breaks into a smile as he pats you on the back. 

“He’s not a dog Hoseok.”

“Really?” Hoseok raises his eyebrows as if it’s news to him. “Cause he looks at you with those puppy eyes all the time. I’m surprised you don’t see it.” 

 “I don’t need someone who doesn’t listen to me Hoseok.”

“Okay yes, that accident with the car was a major misstep on his part...”

“And the constant prodding into my past?” You groan, you were hoping Hoseok would have your back immediately. Why does he have to take the role of impartial referee when you need his bias the most?

“He probably thinks you’ve been wronged, and that you deserve better. Is it not natural to what's best for those we care about?”

You tilt your head starting to question your fellow agent’s sanity. “I doubt that’s the case Hoseok, he just likes to be nosey.”

“Fine, have it your way, live in denial. I’m sure he’ll be out of your hair soon anyway. But if I were you I would try and explain the situation. He might not be living here but you’ll still have to work closely with him in the future.” 

“You’re saying I should tell him?” You challenge his suggestion, he must be overworked since he’s definitely not thinking clearly. 

“I know it won’t be easy, but if he knows what’s really bothering you, he might try to be more tolerable.” He lugs the cases off the table crossing the straps over his chest.

“Either that or he’ll use it as ammo to really gun me down.” You curl your lip at the thought pacing behind Hoseok as he moves towards the elevator to head back above ground. 

Before the door closes between you he holds it open to give you the support you wanted along with a sigh. “I really don’t think that’ll be the case. But if he does... I’ll be your witness when you tell Arthur you shot him in self-defence.”

“Deal.” 

...

You find Seokjin on the couch with a pile of files and a coffee on the small table, his brow furrowed and his mouth pulled tight as he scans through each one at a rapid pace. 

“I take it you weren’t happy with his update?” You call out as you enter the room advancing towards him.

“No, I wasn’t. They had to pull in lower level field agents because I can’t be out there to help them. We probably would have caught Hwang by now if I was still working on the case.”

“Seokjin, I have every camera in the city looking for him, there’s not much else we can do from here. And your not going out there to track-”

“I know I’m not Merlin. I just want this to be over so I can get my shot at redemption.”

You nod looking down at the files in front of him.“What are those?” 

He lets out a panicked laugh as he tries to scrounge them together. “Nothing, don’t worry about it.”

“Seokjin.” You draw out his name with intent to reprimand, leading him to respond with a nervous grin. He shifts his hands away giving you a better view of what he’s up to. 

“Since you said I couldn’t look through your files I thought I would take a general overview of those you’ve trained or worked with.”

You shake your head, tired of this never ending battle between the two of you. “You’re not going to stop are you?”

“Nope.” He takes a sip from his mug as he looks back down to the information he’s gathered. You scan through the names and pull out the file that haunts you to this day. Dropping it in front of Seokjin before taking a seat in the armchair across from him. He reads the name off the tab. “James Paxton the third, he sounds like a pompous prick.”

“Oh I can confirm he was, and definitely one of the most hard-headed recruits I’ve ever tested, but we shouldn’t speak ill of the dead,” You mutter as Seokjin opens his file to find the word deceased stamped in bold red letters. He stares up at you with his mouth agape, you can see the wheels turning in his head, trying to figure out how this fits into your narrative. 

“Why didn’t I hear about this?”

“It wasn’t really broadcasted through the regular channels, if you weren’t at the main headquarters you didn’t know about it. It happened just over a year ago.”

“I would have been in Lhasa...” Seokjin mutters.

You nod, not surprised that information flew under his radar. “I didn’t realize it at the time, but the last Arthur, he saw me as a bar for people to cross. He thought if recruits could take orders from a ‘bossy woman’ they could take orders from anyone. James Paxton didn’t pass that test, and he paid for it with his life.”

Thankfully for once, Seokjin doesn’t have a comment, instead he sits there, waiting for you to continue.

“Paxton thought me pushy, and overbearing, told me so to my face, several times in fact. I should have had him kicked out, but I was determined to prove him wrong. There was a mission to recover the stolen data a couple months after the breach. There was a lead, before we learned of Hwang.  We thought we had the location of where the data had been transferred to. I was supposed to go on the mission, but at the last minute Arthur told me to direct the team from off site.” 

Your hands start to shake as the story continues. A mixture of both anger and fear coursing through you. You shift to hide them beneath you, gripping your legs to keep your fingers steady, but they fail to escape Seokjin’s notice.

His eyes are downcast in shame. “You don’t have to continue if you don’t want to Merlin. I’m-”

“You wanted to hear this Seokjin. I told you to leave it alone, I told you I didn’t want to talk about it.” You take a deep breath trying to rein in your anger, “Either you let me finish or never question me about my situation again.” He shuts his mouth instantly letting you continue. “It didn’t take me long to realize the lead was a trap once they got on site. I ordered a retreat, everyone else followed except for Paxton”

“It wasn’t your fault.” Seokjin interjects sitting on the edge of his seat. 

“That doesn't mean I can’t be upset by it! Instead of trying to curb the discrimination the previous Arthur used it, and I didn’t even understand what he was doing until I lost someone. I found out that he enforced the idea among the recruits, that I was an overly authoritative woman, one who fails to take proper risks. Forget the fact that I am highly qualified, that I have more experience and knowledge of many of the situations than the other leaders, my lack of dick disqualified me from being taken seriously.” Seokjin falls silent again. He must realize that he too has failed to take you seriously in the past, then again, he’s that way with everyone else too. 

“When Namjoon became the new Arthur shortly after, I was able to address my grievances. He was ashamed of his predecessor and wanted to do right by me, so I requested this place as a base. I wanted somewhere I could work on my own for the most part and not have to worry about people thinking me conceited or bossy. I needed a break from giving out orders.”

You finally finish to find Seokjin with a narrowed brow and clenched jaw. His tone matching the anger in his stance, “You’ve been here a year-”

“I know.”

“You’re telling me you’ve been punishing yourself for a year?” He’s question is poised with what looks to be genuine frustration, “Over two assholes who couldn’t understand how valuable you are?”

“It’s not a punishment, it’s a safety net.” You explain.

“It’s a cell!” He gestures around him. “You’re basically living in solitary.” You shift awkwardly not knowing what to say, and definitely not expecting this reaction. “Come on, we’re going out.” He orders, getting up from his seat and pulling you out of yours. “There’s a bar I know close by. I’m taking you out for a drink.”

“You think it wise for you to leave?” You question him, not knowing how else to diffuse the situation, not when your focus is drawn to his grip which wraps your shoulders. 

“It’s only a couple blocks away. If we see anything suspicious I promise we’ll head straight back. It’s your call, but I think you could use a night out.” He pushes you in the direction of your bedroom. “Go change into something that doesn’t have oil stains all over it.” 

You should probably put your foot down, there’s no saying what could happen. But seeing Seokjin act like this... maybe Hoseok was right, he actually cares. The problem is now that you can see this side of him you don’t want to lose hold of it just yet. “Fine, but if anything at all is amiss-”

“We’ll hightail it out of there, and barricade ourselves in here for the long haul.” He rattles off the promises. “Now go get ready.” 

...

Seokjin maintains the persona of a caring companion as he drags you to his favourite bar in the city. “It’s quiet and the owner, Choi, is an old friend of Percival’s, he knows not to ask too many questions. There’s almost always at least one or two of us from the order or field agents hanging out there.”

He holds the door open for you to enter and you're greeted to the sight of a worn down ale house. A robust and stained wooden bar takes the focal point of the room, and there’s not a single other patron in sight. You can’t help but regret being forced to change out of your usual attire. You didn’t want to look out of place, but with no one here to take notice, your black dress it’s an unnecessary and uncomfortable gambit. Seokjin on the other hand looks very pleased to be back in his usual attire, a  three piece suit that’s been confined to the closet while he’s with you in the workshop.   

“Like I said, it’s quiet.” He chuckles while he helps you take off your coat.

From out back steps the barman to greet you. He’s an unexpected yet welcome gem of a sight among the rubble, a handsome face with a wide smile which he presents to you. You might have to stop by here again just to take in this view, maybe study some of the tattoos he has scattered across his arms. 

“Choi not in tonight?” Seokjin asks after seeing your reaction to the man behind the counter. He must not be the usual staff, it’s a shame really, but it’s funny to see Seokjin look so displeased. Realizing that for once he might not be the most attractive person in the room.

“Oh you know him?” Your host inquires with surprise, “No he wasn’t feeling too good, probably will end up spending the night by a toilet from the looks of him. I offered to take over tonight so he could get some rest.”

“That was nice of you.” You extend the man a warm smile.

“I like to think so.” He responds while beaming back at you. Seokjin hastily gives both your orders, allowing the bartender to leave you with a lingering stare as he walks back to grab your drinks. Maybe your efforts with the dress weren’t such a waste.

Seokjin glares at the man, mumbling a few choice words from which you manage to pull the word, ‘Flirt’. 

“He was just being nice.”

“My god you can’t read people when it comes to the way they look at you. You’ve clearly caught his attention...” Seokjin drops unexpectedly.

“I can read people just fine.” You bite back in confidence. 

“Really?” He challenges you, leaning forward with a whisper, “Then I suggest you look a bit closer.”

   The bartender hammers Seokjin’s drink down in front of him while he slides yours along gently, giving you a chance to inspect a stunning work of art on his hand, a flock of birds flying in formation following the trail between his thumb and index. He catches your stare and while you might be embarrassed at your lingering eyes he teases the skin of his lip between his teeth. “I’ll let you get back to your date.” He gives you one last flash of a grin as he backs away into what must be a stock room.

“It’s not a... date.” You start to explain but it’s reduced to a sigh once the man leaves your sight.

Seokjin presses a napkin to your mouth prompting you to look back at him in utter confusion. “Sorry, thought I spotted some drool,” He dabs the corner of your lips. “Just there.”

You steal the napkin from his hand and toss it on the bar. “Thank you for your concern.” You take a long draft of your drink refusing to look at your fellow agent. 

“Someone must be thirsty.” He snickers, not bothering to keep his laughter hidden.

“What can I say, the refreshments at the base have been far from gratifying.” Your quip might be implied but it hits its mark with flawless execution.

“Hey!” The volume of Seokjin’s voice rises to a new level to aid in his defence. “I’ll have you know I’ve been called an acquired taste.” 

“You’ll have to forgive my pallet for not meeting your standards then. I’m in need of something that goes down a bit easier.”

You take your victory in the form of Seokjin’s reddening ears and sputter from his lips. “After that confession, I’m almost sorry to be standing between you and that tall drink. Almost.” He reiterates with a wink.

“It’s probably for the best.” You sigh, finally dropping the banter. “He might be interested now, but I bet that would change pretty quickly if he got to know me.” 

“I doubt that.” He whispers right before he takes a sip. You can’t be entirely sure that he intended you to hear his comment.

“Oh really? You’ve spent the past week in very close proximity with me. How would you describe me?”

“There’s definitely a mix of frustration, with a side agitation, and a need for provocation. ” You let out a heavy groan while he continues. “Now some might find those to be unlikable traits, but I’ve come to find them very endearing.”  

You snort into your drink. “That’s the best joke you’ve told yet.”

Seokjin nods carrying the weight of a small smile on his lips. “What about me? I’d be curious to hear how you read my personality.”

“Are you sure about that?’

He nods, “Hit me with your best shot... if you can.”

He might think you unable to read people, but you can’t wait to prove him wrong. Your words spill faster than you intend, creating an improvisational soliloquy into his psyche.“You deflect with humor constantly, which in turn prevents anyone from getting close because they can tell what you truly feel about them. Can’t take an order without asking a question. You’re determined to a fault, but you also use that drive when you’re concerned that something’s wrong. Not letting anything rest until you’ve fixed what can be fixed.”

He holds your gaze, sitting there in silent disbelief before he comes to and lashes out, “Completely incorrect, it’s a wonder you became an agent.” He shakes his head with a scoff before finishing his drink in one sip.

“Nice deflection,” you counter. “I rest my case.”

He narrows his eyes and gives no response other than to call for another round. 

...

After finishing the second you’re about to suggest your return to the base, but the frown on Seokjin’s face as he looks into the bottom of his glass stops you. It should be an unwritten rule that men who look as good as him aren’t allowed to pout. How are you supposed to remain in charge when he can disarm you in seconds with a simple jut of his lip? It’s the one tool in his arsenal he has yet to use, you can only hope he doesn’t realize how effective it is on you.

You’re quick to order the next batch, and half way through the third he poses a question that he must have been holding on to. “You said in your analysis that people have trouble reading me because of my humour, how do I act when I really like someone?”

“How would I know?” You raise your brow along with your drink. 

“Then how do you think I should act? You know, so it’s not misconstrued as humour.”

“Level with the person, have a serious conversation for a fraction of a second.” It feels odd to be giving him your input on such a matter. Why would he ask this of you? And why do you mentally recoil when you start to think of him using that advice on someone else?

“If that's the case, I should probably tell you...” He leans in towards you, his face just inches away. Your heart stops as his hand reaches out to cover yours. He pauses there for a moment watching your expression, “I need to,” The gaps in his speech are big enough for your mind to flee from reality, creating a scenario where he admits... “I need to go use the facilities.” A half-hearted chuckle pours of him along with the words which break you from your daydream. 

“Then go,” You snap, your tone surprising even to you. It’s not like you wanted to have a serious moment with him, right? But the pain in your chest says otherwise.

“Are you... I was just kidding around,” he stammers.

What did you expect him to say, that he thinks of you as more than just an agent, even more than a friend? Did you want him to close the gap and kiss you? Oh god, you did. You like him. You like Kim Seokjin, and right then and there you wanted him to confess the same to you.

“Yeah I got it,” you mutter back, trying to cover your internal shock. “That’s all you ever do.”

 Seokjin gets up from his seat and heads to the washroom. Leaving you at the bar to contemplate his words. 

You feel like you’ve fallen into every trap you told yourself not to. But that can’t be right, it’s not like you fell for his fake smiles or flirtation. You must be drunk, that’s the only explanation. How else could you ever think that he might actually hold even a shred of feelings for you. He feels sorry for you, that’s all, that’s why you're here with him now. And once he’s treated your wounds, once he no longer feels guilty, he can go back to flirting with you and everyone else to get whatever he wants. 

The bell over the door chimes as a large group of people enter. You immediately look away, embarrassed by your current distress, turning your head to focus instead on the photos of the owner and his patrons pinned to the walls. Dabbing the corner of your eyes with the tip of your finger. 

Despite the number of newcomers the bar still remains oddly quiet. From a group of six you would expect the volume of conversation to be a bit more boisterous. With your instincts and suspicions now aroused, you keep an eye on them in the mirror over the bar.  Darting your eyes back to their reflection every few seconds, never wanting to linger too long. You’re about to throw away your apprehension, blaming it on your current level of anxiety on Seokjin, when something inexplicable happens. 

As the man seated in the middle leans towards one of his companions for a chat, his hand rises to rub his long nose, and in what you can only describe as a rendering problem, it passes through. You try to remain calm grabbing your glasses from your purse, turning yourself slightly you manage to edge his face in the very corner of your frames. With the tap of your finger to the rim of the specs you launch an application you created but never had the need to use personally.

When you had first designed your car, Yoongi had complained that even with the locater he had difficulty finding the vehicle when he left it cloaked. It was a reasonable request that prompted you to create a function that scans for visual distortions and creates a digital replication of what lies beneath the camouflage. And now as you activate that function you find what Seokjin and the others hadn’t been able to track down for months, the face of Hwang. 

He must be wearing what you can only guess is a variation on your technology, but instead of making his face invisible it projects different facial features over some of his own. It takes all of your restraint not to let out the swear taking up residence on the tip of your tongue. Why are they here of all places? Do they know that Seokjin is here? They look as if they’re waiting for someone. A potential mark, a seller, or maybe a buyer? 

Regardless of motive if your colleague steps out of the bathroom he’ll walk right into their view. You pull your glasses off leaving them on the bar, and call out to the keep. “Would you mind watching my stuff for me?” You gesture to your coat and specs putting on a fake smile. “Don’t want to lose my seat.”

“Don’t worry.” He confirms with a soft tone along with a grin. “I’ll keep them safe.”

Gliding off the stool, avoiding the stares of the target and his men, you slip into the hall and behind the men’s room door. Thankfully Seokjin’s already at the sink by this point. You find him hunched over hands pressing down on the counter as he lets out a long sigh.   

As he combs back his hair with damp fingers he looks up. Meeting your eyes in the mirror with embarrassment and disbelief, he lets out a small self pitting laugh. “Listen if you’re here to tell me off I get it, I didn’t mean-”

“Put your glasses on. You have them right?” You join him at the sink while his pity turns to confusion.

“What-”

“Just do it.”

He fumbles to retrieve them from his jacket pocket before sliding them on. You move in as close as you can, bracing yourself on his arms so you can speak into the receiver embedded. Seokjin looks taken aback but remains still as you encroach on his space. “Call Merlin, auto-connect override authorization 2769.” That creates a connection between the two glasses without you having to be there to answer it, allowing Seokjin to see the issue at hand.

“Fuck.” He whispers right next to your ear as you remain close, getting ready to call in for backup.

“My thoughts exactly.” You mutter, unable to decide if this is a stroke of good luck or bad.  “Add secondary line, call Lancelot.”

Seokjin leans his head down so the speaker falls next to your own ear. It’s not the best connection with the audio from the bar, but at least you can hear Hoseok. “Merlin, Galahad. What- am I seeing this right?”

“Yes, Hwang’s at our location, Choi’s bar. We’re not sure of his purpose here, but he’s brought a few friends.”

“I can see that, but why are you both there?”

“Not the time. We’re in the restroom but not in an adequate state to take on so many and secure the target. How long will it take you to get here?” You try to gloss over your lack of sobriety, but Hoseok doesn’t fall for the guise of your paraphrasing.

“Not in an adequate state huh? That’s an expression for drunk I haven’t heard before. Sending a message to Percival, I can have him and the team on site in 10 minutes. Can you maintain your current position?”

“Yeah small problem with that...” Seokjin comments.

“I heard it too, maintain cover at all cost. We can’t scare them away.” Hoseok’s voice flutters, sounding almost nervous.

“Heard what?” You can barely make out Hoseok’s words, let alone the taproom.

“Someone’s coming to check the bathrooms. They’re looking for any people of interest.”

“We could try slipping out the back door,” You offer.

Only for Hoseok to throw a wrench in your suggestion. “If it’s a business dealing they might have people posted there.”

“We need a distraction then?” You ask and Seokjin returns with a nod. Just hiding in a stall won’t do either, they’ll likely wait for the occupants to come out. You have to make them uncomfortable enough to leave without looking too close. You’ll probably regret what you're about to do later, but right now your options are limited. 

You reach out and grip Seokjin’s shirt, drawing him into you so he has you pressed against the counter. He catches on quickly, putting his hands on your waist he lifts you up and onto the marble surface. “Make it look good Seokjin. Shouldn’t be hard for you to put on a show, you’ve had so much practice with me already.” His act of concern, and portrayal of affection have shown you he should do just fine when it comes to a performance of lust. 

“It wasn’t my intent to toy with you.” He growls back before snatching your mouth with his, forceful enough to ensure swollen lips and smudged lipstick. One of his hands rises to your hair pulling the elastic out of place. Allowing his fingers to weave between the strands, he delivers a slight tug to your roots while you drag your teeth across his bottom lip.

You push his suit jacket off his wide shoulders, throwing it down on the counter next to you, before forcefully opening the top of his shirt, accidentally ripping the button off his collar in the process. He pauses his assault on your mouth for a moment, investigating the damage you imposed. 

“It wasn’t my intent to destroy your shirt, but here we are,” You explain unfastening the next two buttons with a bit more care. Your fingers dip under the crisp white cotton of his shirt, raking visible lines down his chest.  “Take responsibility for your actions for once. Tell people your true intentions or you will hurt them.” 

“You want me to know my intentions? Fine.” He unzips your dress a few inches to bare your collar and shoulders before his lips target your neck. You close your eyes letting your head roll back. “I want this.” Seokjin grabs your upper thigh compelling a gasp to escape you. “I want you.” He confesses the same time the door creaks open. 

There’s not much movement from Hwang’s lackey. Your new audience doesn’t come in far, instead he freezes in place when he spots the both of you. Seokjin addresses him in a gruff manner without turning his face away from you . “It’s not a free show buddy, take your piss and leave.” The man clears his throat, turns round and closes the door in his wake, leaving you once alone with Seokjin. Though revelling in his soft bites to your neck, gaining back your composer is a more pressing matter. “I think he’s gone.”

“We can’t be too sure,” Seokjin counters your observation as he continues to nip at the column of your throat. “He might come back.” 

“Shit, I just lost visual of the bar.” Hoseok interrupts much to your embarrassment. You somehow forgot he was on the com-line during your effort to teach your fellow agent a lesson. “We’re running blind, maintain cover for now.”

“See?” The breath of Seokjin’s laughter is felt on your skin as he wins the debate.

“You really want to keep going with this?” You’re surprised, just a few minutes ago the man was making you the butt of his joke. Why the change? 

“I wouldn’t mind. I’m just sorry we couldn’t be somewhere more intimate, or private.”

“You and me both,” Hoseok deadpans.

“Lancelot, I suggest you find something else to watch while we maintain cover as directed,” Seokjin instructs. You find his mouth back on yours before he gets a response on the com. 

He’s right though the circumstances are less than ideal for a romp. The damp counter beneath you, the flickering fluorescent lights, and the out of order stall in the corner are all enough to make you cringe. No part of this is glamorous except for the man standing in front of you, which makes him all the more appealing. “We could just lock the door you know.” You offer a logical substitute plan. “I’m sure after what they’ve seen they would understand and we could stop this charade.”

“But where’s the fun in that? I’m sorry but I am too dedicated to this cover. I want to see it through.”

“Percival’s team will be dropping in two minutes.” Hoseok cuts in. 

“Yes sir,” Seokjin mumbles against your lips while he responds to Hoseok, not dwelling on the interruption. “We should probably make the act more realistic, you know gasps, moans, they might be listening.”

You highly doubt that, but if he wants to play, fine. You’ll show him what he’s missing when he casts you aside. “You first.” You respond, tugging him between your legs, causing the hem of your dress to ride back. His cock erect beneath his pants and pressing against your clothed core. He lets out a groan of relief. “So unlike you to be already standing at attention.” You tease him.

“What can I say, you bring out the best in me,” he gasps in response.

Seokjin takes your legs in his hands driving your dress even further up your thighs as he proceeds to grind against you. He tilts his head with a smile while you react. “Too far?” He whispers. 

You shake your head. If only he knew what he would find if he pulled your underwear aside. Your cunt, committing the ultimate treason against your better sensibility, is ready and willing. If he’s not careful he might get a darkened spot on his suit pants.

As one hand slides further up the inside of your thigh, the other takes your chin directing you to meet his eyes. His fingers tease the edge of your underwear making their presence known and as he waits for permission to go further. You nod back at him. His fingers slip behind the strip of fabric, separating your sopping slit from the damp material. “Looks like you’re well prepared too Merlin.”

“I guess so,” You tease, “Do remind me to give a big tip to the bartender for that.”

“I have a hard time believing that none of this belongs to me.” Seokjin murmurs back to you, but just as his knuckles graze your slick folds and clit, Yoongi announces his team’s arrival. “Another time I guess,” Seokjin whispers with a final kiss to your cheek. He helps you off the counter and pulls down your dress to a more respectable length while he takes one last stroke of your thigh.

“I take it’s safe to restore visual now?” Hoseok asks with a hint of laughter. You’re never going to hear the end of this. “Percival’s about to enter, I do suggest locking the door this time though. In case anyone does make a run for it, we’ll catch them outback. I don’t want you two engaging in this capture if you don’t have too.”  You roll your eyes over Hoseok’s word choice. “Galahad, give Merlin the glasses. I want her input on the scene.”

Seokjin hands off his glasses to you and proceeds to lock you both in.

“Where are they stationed?” You inquire trying to get a full view of the task now at hand.

“The majority including Percival are entering through in the front, and a couple men out back, there was no one there so they must not be expecting a scene. Were there any civilians on site?”

“Just the barman.”

“Okay hang tight.” Hoseok orders.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t be helping?” You ask, wanting to distract yourself from the tension between you and Seokjin.

“Nah, Percival’s got this. Besides I saw your reflection and you’re looking a little flushed Merlin, you doing okay?”

“Shut up Lancelot,” you grumble back in a muffled tone. 

“Was it the alcohol or was it Galahad?”  Luckily Seokjin was too far away to hear Hoseok's last question letting you ignore the comment as the team makes their entrance. Yoongi’s glasses give you the full view of what he sees. Hwang, much to your surprise, actually looks interested in the presence of the new arrivals. They’re obviously waiting for someone to show, but it’s clear that they have no idea who to look for.

“Don’t jump on the arrest so fast.” You direct, looking to gain any positive out of this awkward mission. The reward very much outweighing the risk. “You might be able to get some information first. Come off as a buyer, they might be trying to move the information or the tech.”

“You heard her Percival, get as much as you can before we make the catch.” Hoseok confirms your plan back to the rest of the team.

You watch barely drawing breath as he takes a seat across from the target. Hwang opens up the conversation first, “I didn’t think you would bring so many men just for a demonstration.”

“I prefer not to take any chances.” Yoongi’s response is blase, as he beckons the barman over to give his order.  

Hwang looks uncomfortable, for someone with a product to sell he’s lacking the usual confidence that you would expect to see. “Well this should provide for your needs then. You ask me to come to the thick of their territory and as you can see I’m still here.”

“You are, but how do we know they aren’t waiting to make a strike? Have you ever seen one?” Yoongi pushes, he must be taking great enjoyment out of finally being able to pull one over on the man who’s kept them searching for so long.

“I have, once, but I’ve been able to keep myself hiding for months with this.” He taps something a bud placed in his ear. It must be what’s projecting the image overlay on his face disguising his true features. “Camera’s can’t pick up my face underneath, it’s better than any mask you can buy, as requested.”

“Where did you get the tech?” 

“You-” The man pauses, his brow furrows before his expression shifts to a blank slate. He makes a subtle reach for his jacket pocket, but Yoongi is quicker on the draw. Lunging across the table he grabs the back of Hwang’s neck and smashes his head down on the table.

It’s hard to see the rest of the fighting with only Yoongi’s perspective. You catch flashes of the scene as the target’s men retaliate. There’s a flurry of pint glasses to distract as firearms are drawn. Broken shards scatter the establishment as the bartender flees away from danger towards the back exit with a phone to his ear. 

The altercation ends rather quickly, with those who are still conscious held at gunpoint by Yoongi’s men. It’s a relief to see the target secured, and the tech recovered, but you are left with disgust after having your own work be used against your team. 

Hoseok gives you the all clear to leave, but you're not sure you're ready to face the others just yet. “Could you give me a minute?” You request from Seokjin as he goes to open the door. He gives you a nod along with your hair tie, while you hand back his glasses. 

“Yeah, I’ll just go... fetch our coats.”

“Could you find my glasses too while you’re out there Galahad?” 

He freezes for a fraction of a second before giving you a hesitant response, “Yeah... yeah sure thing.”

What, no funny retort? No rebuttal? You thought calling him by his title would cause him to taunt you a little, but nothing comes of it. “If you can’t find them, the barkeep might have them.” That’s probably why the signal went dark, he must have moved them for safe keeping.

“Great. Just who I wanted to see.” He responds with a forced smile and gritted teeth. 

“If it’s that much of a problem I’ll go get them back myself.”

Seokjin leaves you with a grunt, “No, no, I’ll go see the cowardly Casanova.”

 The second he opens the restroom door you can hear Yoongi shout a request. “Galahad can I leave the team out back in your care? I need to move out and take this thief to Arthur for questioning.” 

Hwang had apparently regained consciousness, and starts arguing in his defence. “I didn’t steal that data! I just set them up with someone to make their tech. They were supposed to come here, they asked for a demonstration here and then stood us up!”   

Yoongi chooses to ignore him while he continues to give orders to Seokjin. “Make sure they drug the civilian, and then toss him behind the bar. Shouldn’t need to do much more than that, it already looks like standard bar brawl damage.” 

“That I can do,” Seokjin responds with satisfaction as he steps out letting the door close between the two of you. It’s amazing how much one flirtatious bartender appears to have got under his skin. 

You take a few minutes to straighten yourself in the mirror. Tying up your hair and closing the zipper on your dress when you spot several smudges of lipstick across your skin. You reach blindly for the paper towel, only to knock your purse to the floor in the process. A couple items roll away. Your pen, to your frustration, makes it all the way into the out of order stall. As tempted you are to leave it, you know it wouldn’t be wise to have something so lethal on the floor of a public bathroom.

With a groaning you crouch down, peering through the couple of inches between the stall door and the floor. Finding the missing item next to a pair of well worn leather shoes. You throw yourself back in shock grabbing your pistol from your overturned clutch, taking aim at the door bearing the sign. With a swift kick you force the stall open, and there passed out on the toilet is the man from the pictures behind the bar, the owner that Seokjin was asking after.    

“Shit.” You lower your gun as you run out of the bathroom calling out for back up. The bar is deserted though, Yoongi’s team has already left, forcing you to head down the long hall to the back door alone. You slow your steps as you reach the end of the corridor, starting to pick up bits of conversation between Seokjin and the imposter. You keep yourself plastered to the wall trying to assess the situation with a narrow view through the window next to the door.

The once friendly bartender points a gun at Seokjin. The other agents, those that were supposed to be keeping an eye on the ‘civilian’ are out of commission, all laying on the ground around him. 

“Call her out here, now.” The barman still holds onto his smile as he makes his demand, but now it only gives you chills as you try to puzzle out the motive behind it.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.” Seokjin keeps his hands at eye level, he’s trying to play the role of innocent bystander but that’ll only get him shot if he’s not careful. 

“The woman with you, that was Merlin, was it not? She designed this tech didn’t she?” He lifts your glasses for Seokjin to see. “And created the original cloaking program. I never should have outsourced it, she saw right through their guise. Since their product was faulty, I’ve been given a new directive.”

“Merlin? You mean like the magician in the old tales? Trust me that woman is nothing of the sort.” Seokjin is actually now chuckling despite having a gun held to him.

“Very well, if you won’t comply. We’ll just have to go retrieve her together.” He gestures Seokjin to the door with his gun. “After you.”

You shift yourself into position behind the door, when Seokjin opens it you remain concealed on the other side. Your fellow agent steps through, moving backwards to keep his eyes on the assailant, allowing him to spot you once he’s inside. You raise a finger to your lips holding your gun to your chest. You can’t let him give off any indication that he’s seen you. 

When Seokjin’s a few feet down the hall the aggressor proceeds to follow, and once his arm crosses the threshold you ram your full weight against the door. There’s a howl of pain as you trap his forearm in the door frame. The gun drops from his hand and hits the floor. Seokjin moves first taking the weapon and then the arm of the man who pointed it at him. You release the door and Seokjin drags the enemy in, throwing him against the wall. There’s a sickening crack as his head meets the concrete behind him.  

Though his body is now lip and eyes in a daze he still chuffs when he spots you, “So nice of you to join us Merlin, we were just talking about you.”

Seokjin pulls back a fist  letting land on the man's face with the full force of a brutal punch, finally sending the culprit into a comatose state.

“You okay?” You ask, noting his unusually rigid composure.

Seokjin nods, straightening his jacket as he lets the imposter fall to the floor. “Looks like I was right, you did catch his attention.” He boasts, with levity returning to his voice. “How did you know to come find me?”

“Found Choi, right where he said he’d be too...” You watch as Seokjin crouches down to retrieve your glasses from the man. “Who is he?”

“I don’t know, but I doubt he works alone.” Seokjin comments while staring at the tattoo that had caught your eye earlier, a flock in the shape of a V. 

...

Yoong makes a return trip, picking up the new captive as well as aiding the unconscious agents. The detainees will be moved to headquarters where they’ll be held for questioning before they’re turned over to the authorities along with a list of transgressions and admissible evidence.

After returning from the bar your base is busier than ever, with everyone following standard procedure and filing reports. There’s hardly room to move, let alone have a private moment with Seokjin to discuss what transpired. A full night and day go by with you only being able to lock eyes with him across the room. As much as you want to talk to him, your duty comes first, ensuring that everyone receives their new orders after the unusual turn of events.

You retreat to your room after a long day of report processing. There are still a few statements left to grab but those can be done tomorrow. The first recordings of the interrogation have come in and you're desperate to hear what Hwang has to say about the tech you found him with. To your delight it’s that exact question which Namjoon poses first.

Hwang rattles off the information, needing little prompting, they must have already cut a deal. “I was contacted  by an anonymous client over a year ago, they asked if I might know of someone who could utilize a cloaking program they had picked up, and apply it to something else. They wanted a mask, a way to hide in plain sight. I offered up a tech company who does some backwater dealings in armaments and weapons, and became the middleman between the two parties until the project was finished.”

“And you have no idea who hired you?” Namjoon asks. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Their wallet was big enough their identity wasn’t a concern, my main contact only referred to himself as V. He called me to the bar last night to provide a final demonstration to prove it worked before his agency made the purchase.”

Seokjin was right, Hwang was just a fence. Which would confirm the other man part of the group who orchestrated the data breach. 

You switch between the video files, hoping to find the other more enlightening. In the very centre of the shot sits the man dubbed as V. He answers none of the questions directed to him. Minutes pass while he remains silent looking directly into the camera with a  jeering grin and narrowed eyes. It’s off putting to say the least, no offer or deal can sway him to spill his knowledge. He looks content almost as if this is exactly where he wants to be. While the interrogators become increasingly frustrated, his smile only grows wider. 

You close out of the recording unable to take the silent stares any more. There’s nothing in his file they’ve attached other than physical attributes.  As you search the empty pages for a scrap of knowledge, a call request comes in from Arthur. You throw on your glasses answering in haste hoping he’ll have something new to share.

“Sorry to bother you so late. It’s been quite a day.” His voice is full of cracks and weariness.

“It’s no problem. I can only imagine after seeing the footage. Any new information on who this man works for? 

“No, nothing.”

“Oh,” Your voice echoes in confusion, “Was there something else you needed? Did you get my report?”

“Yes I did, thorough as usual. But it’s not your report I wanted to discuss.” Namjoon pauses again. ”I received an unusual request from Galahad at the end of his. I wanted to talk it over with you before I gave my answer.”

“Go ahead.” You cringe fearing what he might have said in his statement. 

“I freed him from lock down, and offered a new assignment, but he requested permission to stay and assist you with the vehicle repairs until they were completed. I would permit his extension, but I don’t believe that the answer to this decision rests fully with me, so I’m leaving it to you.”

“Don’t you need him back in the field? We don’t know who this man V is, or who he’s working for.” 

“And it’s doubtful that we’ll learn anything more anytime soon unless he starts answering our questions. There’s little direction in where we can take the investigation right now. I don’t have anything that requires urgent attention, that’s why the choice is yours to make. If you need help or want assistance he’s offering it to you.” 

“Thank you sir,” You’re grateful that he has left you with the final decision on the matter. “Would you mind if I spoke to him first before I decide?”  

“Not at all.”

...

You creep out into the common area, Hoseok is splayed out on the couch while Yoongi’s curled up on the armchair, but Seokjin is nowhere to be found. Did he leave the base taking advantage of his newly acquired freedom?

You doubt you’ll be able to sleep, not with the questions you have running through your head. Looking to keep your mind busy you descend the stairs and enter the passcode to your workshop, only to find the lights already on and Seokjin’s long legs sticking out from under the car. There’s a swear and a clang of a metal tool hitting the cement floor. You hold back a laugh as you approach, choosing instead to surprise him by pulling on the roller bed to tug him out from beneath the car.  

The initial shock on his face quickly changes to a smug grin. “I guess I’ve been caught.”

“Trying to sabotage my work again?”

“No, if you can believe it I’m actually trying to be an aid rather than a hindrance.”

“I’ll alert the media.” You fire back before diving into the more serious topic at hand. “I just got off the line with Arthur. He said you’ve been cleared to return to duty...”

Seokjin’s face falls slightly as he sits up on the rolling platform, “Oh-”

“But you also requested an extension here.”

“I did.” He looks up at you with sincerity, one that’s rarely seen on his face. No deflection to humour. This is just him. 

“I need to know why.” You keep your expression even, not wanting your feelings to influence him in any way.

“I want to help fix the car.”

“I need more of an explanation than that Seokjin. A few days ago you couldn’t wait to get out of here. ” This is it, there’s no room to spare feelings. He’ll tell you he feels guilty, or that he feels sorry for you, leaving you to send him on his way and that will be the end of this trial. 

“I don’t want things to go back to the way they were before. I like working with you, being here with you. You're not afraid to let me know when I’ve crossed the line.”

“So what, you just want to use me to keep you in check? I’m not here to fix you Seokjin.” You start to back away ready to send word to Namjoon that he’s free to assign him elsewhere when Seokjin grabs your hand, he rises from his spot on the floor in a rush to stand between you and the door. 

“That’s not what I meant. You make me want to be better.”

You pull yourself from his grip backing into the side of the car, “And after you’ve used me to better yourself, what then? You’ll just move on to your next project?” 

“No, fuck... I don’t know how else I can say it other than I like you Merlin. You aren’t the plan, you’re the objective.” He pauses for a moment, watching as his words sink in to you. “If you’re not interested in what I want to offer... I get it, but stop being so blind when it comes to yourself!” 

You fall still as you hear his confession, but you’re not ready to believe or condemn his words just yet. “If that’s the case why did you mock me at the bar?” Your voice wavers as you question him. “Why didn’t you say something?” 

“I was going to, but I didn’t think you would appreciate a drunken confession. You wanted a serious conversation, here it is. I want to stay here with you. Even if you’re not interested in a relationship, I respect that, but I still think we could both benefit from working together.”

He’s right, you might have believed him right then, but later, once the effects of the alcohol had worn off you would’ve thought it another game of his. You shift against the car embarrassed by your misreading of his motives, but pleased to see that they fall in line with your own.

“I wouldn’t say that I wasn’t interested...” You mumble your own confession carefully as he shifts in closer to his mouth catching a grin when he hears your words. “But staying would put you in a problematic position when you’re required to follow my orders. If we’re to continue down this path there wouldn’t be an equal power dynamic.”

“Good.” he mutters along with a chuckle. “Is that your only objection?”

“Yes, but-”

“Arthur released me from under your command. Any order you give will be discretionary.” 

“Discretionary orders?” You scoff. “You can barely follow mandatory orders.”

“Yes but it solves your problem, doesn't it? This way you can be sure that I will only follow an order if I want to.” He leans in placing his hands on either side of you on the hood of the car. “So Merlin, do you want me to stay?”

“Yes...”

“Do you want to continue what we started yesterday?” 

You nod biting your lip at the thought of it.

“Then I await your orders.” He stands still not moving an inch while you remain caged between his arms and caught in his eyes.

“Let’s be clear on something first,” You state, trying not to focus on how close his lips are or how soft they’ll feel when they touch your skin.“I don’t want you to think you are in any way saving me.”

“I am well aware of that now. I finally realise I need you to save me.”

“From what?” You can’t help but laugh at his conclusion.

“My impulsive actions.” He lifts you onto the car just like he lifted you onto the bathroom counter. “My runaway mouth.” He closes the distance for a swift kiss. “And my very unprofessional desires.” His fingers flirt with the bottom of your shirt taking up residence underneath the garment against the skin of your waist. 

“Yet you combat every effort when someone tries to restrain those tendencies,” You scold with a smile.

“You told me yourself I don’t go down easily... If you want to put me in my place you’re going to be more commanding.”

“And you would like that?” You ask in disbelief.  

“Why don’t you find out...” 

“Seokjin I-I don’t know if I-” You start to panic, stammering at the thought of going too far and becoming what others have thought of you before, “I don’t want you to hate...”

“If I need to stop I’ll tell you to brake. But right now I really want you to take the wheel, and put your foot down. No detours, just floor it.” He tightens his hold on you leaning in next to your ear with a growl. “Don’t get shy on me now. Give me your orders.” 

The cheek in his tone at last sets off the need for retaliation in you, evoking a desire to finally see him begging you for more. He’s never backed away from you, leaving you with no reason to believe he’ll do so now. If this is what he wants you’ll be happy to try and make him submit. “You can start with losing this.” You tug on his grease stained shirt. “And these too.” Dragging your finger over the waist of his jeans. 

He strips looking eager to play along. Leaving him in a pair of black boxers clinging to his swelling girth. “Like what you see?”

“You’ll do.” You snicker back at him. You take the back of his neck and pull him in for a kiss, as he moves to hold your lower back. He finds his way between your thighs once again but this time there’s nothing to stop you both from going further. 

“Do you want to take those off?” You brush your hands on the elastic of his underwear.

“Yes.” His answer is short and sweet, with nothing to misinterpret. You could get used to this side of him.

“Then you’ll have to do something for me first.” You shift your pants down kicking them to the floor. Taking one last kiss of Seokjin’s lips before pressing his shoulders down to make his mouth level with your hips. The grin he gives is something to revel in, finally seeing it as a sign of desire rather than a farce.

He pulls your underwear to the side. The first lick is short and sweet causing you to flinch from the flick of his tongue. The second he takes care in following the line of your slit but he doesn’t pull away at the end, instead he latches on to your clit taking deep drags which pull you under in an instant. 

Your hand reaches out to grip his hair needing something to hold on to and hold him back with if necessary, but once your fingers tug at Seokjin’s locks he moans into your flesh. His hands pull you closer to the edge of the car allowing him to bury himself even deeper.    

He slowly gains a rhythm with his tongue and lips, but every time you come close, when your breathing becomes shallow he starts to pull back. He’s teasing you, clearly goading you to become more strict with your desires. 

“No more games Seokjin. If you can’t get me there in the next minute, I promise you’ll regret it.”

He pulls away for a moment to draw breath while giving you a taunt. “I’d like to see that.” 

He’s about to return to his task when you push him back, no longer giving him the chance at redemption. You point to a straight back chair facing away from you , “Sit down, with your head forward.” 

He does as you ask with a smile still stuck to the corner of his mouth. You slide off the car and move behind him towards your work desk, stripping off your shirt, and undergarments as you stray from his line of sight. Grabbing something from the inventory closet before you return to him, still hiding from his gaze .

He tries to look back at you but you put a stop to that. “Did I say you could look around?”

“No ma’am.” He chuckles back.

“Since you like games so much I thought of one to play. Give me your hand, and tell me what I put in it without looking.”

“I don’t see what this has to do with-” You cut off his complaint quickly by placing the metal object in his hand reaching out behind him. “Handcuffs?” Seokjin questions with surprise. “I stand corrected, this seems like a fun game.” 

“Put them on,” you order. He complies instantly, letting you check the tightness once he’s done. “Safey’s there if you need it. Just tell me to brake.”

“Oh no, I’m quite comfortable thank you.” He grins proudly as if this is what he was hoping for all along.

As you move in front of him finally gracing him with your nude form he stares back at you dumbfounded. You reach out to the corner of his mouth, which sits agape, wiping at the edge of his lips with your thumb. “Sorry I thought I spotted some drool.��� Seokjin smiles at your mimicry and jab, but he has no words to follow with.

You kneel down in front of him, your hands trailing up to reach for his boxers. “May I?”

“Please do.”

You tug them down releasing his erection from the confines of the fabric. You're careful not to touch him, not wishing to give any satisfaction or stimulation. Once they’re pulled down to his ankles you move to the uninstalled backseat of the car sitting right across from him. Seokjin furrows his brow in confusion. 

“Something wrong?” You prompt hoping to have him admit that he wants you to return to him.

“No, just admiring the view.” 

“Really?” You persist in teasing him a little more, “Because it looks like you need something.”

“Only to know the next step in this game of yours.”

“You get to watch while I play.” You lay back on the car bench resting your feet on the soft leather. Your hand moving down between your legs picking up where Seokjin left off, with a slow rub to your crest.

“That seems unfair.” He flexes his arms, testing the cuffs as he watches you. 

“That’s what happens when you don’t read the instructions, I get to make the rules.” He lets out a groan as you close your eyes ready to concentrate on your own pleasure. You know you’re wet enough already but for good measure and Seokjin’s torturous show you prep your fingers in your mouth before slipping the tip of your index finger inside yourself. 

There’s a small whine from Seokjin, you look over to him, your eyes take a moment to focus on his face, his teeth digging into his now swollen bottom lip. “Let me help you, please.”

“That’s not how punishments work Seokjin. You had your chance, and you disobeyed.”

Giving him a side profile allows your thigh to hide the sight of your fingers dipping in. The sounds though, those are his to enjoy. You continue to satisfy yourself for a while longer enjoying the little jots of pleasure you can give yourself and Seokjin’s moan every time you twitch. It’s hard not to pay attention and give in to returning to him. With his cock pulsing against his leg with a drop of precum growing at the tip. His lip must be sore with how hard he’s biting down. 

Unable to ignore his whimpers any longer you get up from the leather bench. You present your fingers to his mouth damp from your ministrations. You don’t even get the chance to ask before he takes them into his mouth and licks them clean. When you pull them from his lips, he beams back at you. “Was that attentive enough for you?” 

“Very...” You commend him, straddling his legs facing him as you lower yourself. Your hand grips his cock while the other rests on his shoulder balancing yourself as you guide him inside. 

He gasps out a swear along with your real name as you sink down fully onto his lap. You lean into him letting your chest push against his as you rise and fall on his shaft. Pressing and grinding yourself against his seated form has him throbbing inside of you. He’s quickly become a breathy mess beneath you, a sheen of sweat covers his forehead, with even more dripping down his pecs. 

Your pace increases in speed as you edge closer to your climax. The warmth begins to spread to your extremities as you continue to thrust down. When the wave finally washes over you can barely move. “Fuck-” You whisper along with a plea. “Don’t you dare come yet.” You collapse against him riding it out, clenching while Jin groans.

“Take the cuffs off.” His moaning request is impossible to deny. As fun as it was to see him at your mercy you long to have his hands back on you. 

You reach for the restraints behind his back, with a quick press of a hidden release he’s free.  Wasting no time he grabs you, helping your legs to wrap around his waist. Positioning you securely against him, he rises to move two steps required in order to ram you back down onto the car bench. 

He pulls one leg up and over his shoulder while he holds the other level with his hip. Despite your sensitivity, he’s relentless in his thrusts, pushing you directly from the wave you just finished and on to the next. 

He’s so close to his end, his muscles tense, his face stern with a clenched jaw, it takes a moment for you to realize he’s waiting for your permission. He’s holding back until you give him the okay. “You can come Seokjin.” Upon hearing this his thrusts suddenly hit harder forcing you to cry out. “Fuck, please come.”

He shudders with the last impact. Releasing your legs, he lowers himself onto you while his cock still pulses inside. His head rests on the seat beside yours, the hot air from his heavy pants flows down your neck as you lay there trying to catch your own breath.

“I think we might have ruined the new car seat.” You chuckle at him, your laughter restricted by the pressure of his body on your chest. “I should probably order another.”

“And miss out on Hoseok’s expression when he realized what the stains are from?” He nudges closer, kissing the spot behind your ear with his swollen lips. “Not a chance.”

You start to drift beneath him content with the warmth and weight of his form. He gives you a few minutes rest caressing the side of your face with the tip of his finger before he poses an important question. “You’re still okay with me staying here then?”

You turn your head to meet his eyes with a smirk. “Yes, but you still have to earn your keep if you want a stay.” You gesture to the state that he’s left the workshop in, “In addition to cleaning up your mess.” 

Seokjin briefly glances to the tools strewn along the ground and then back at you with a smirk. He then shifts his whole body down, dipping his head back between your legs. “Yes ma’am.”  His tongue takes a long stroke, cupping your cum filled cunt. “Hope you don’t mind if I start here.”