#what are the reasons my car ac does not blow cold air

[philsservice]

Are you wondering how often should you get your car ac serviced? Talk to a certified AC technician at Phil's Service about auto ac service.

[lysergicephemera]

Late summer.

Night.

When I tell you it’s hot I mean to say that clothes are not an option.  Neither are sheets for that matter.  You have to just lay there, spread-eagled.  Whether face up or face down, that’s your preference.  But it is hot.  Stifling.  Sweaty. Hard to breathe and harder to distract yourself from the itch of sweat bubbling to the surface and running down your sides.  I’m not usually one to complain about soaking the mattress… but this is not in the right context.  This is ridiculous.

It was the worst time for the AC to spark into an untimely death.  Yes, even that box of humming and dripping machinery gave up the fight.  So did the fans, both of them, which I stared at with envy and malice that they no longer could feel the hot air blowing through their outstretched limbs.

It’s the worst kind of heat. It’s not fogging up the backseat of a car on a fall night.  It’s not straddling atop a lover in a steaming bath.  It’s certainly not swimming naked in a heated pool as you see your partners swirling, shimmering body just beneath the surface.  It’s none of those things at all.  It’s just misery in the shape of you.  Glistening, yes.  Panting and heaving, yes and yes.  But you didn’t earn those labored breaths and you certainly got no satisfaction.

I can’t stand it.

So, I peel myself away from the sheets that pull like a lover who isn’t ready to let go.  I make my way in the dark because I can’t stand to think of adding any more energy to this stifling air.

Even my feet slip on the kitchen laminate, damn it.  If I fall - if I land in a pool of my own damp footprints I might just lay there a half an hour, groaning and moaning and not in the way one hopes to.  But that’s not what happens, thank you.

I make it to the sink and run the water as cold as it will go, forgoing any glass, face beneath, head beneath, hands cupped and rising to my mouth to drink and splash and make a mess all down my chin and neck and chest and all the way to my toes, which causes me to almost slip once more.  But this cool water, it’s not enough.

My god. This heat. It’s  just not enough.

It’s then that I hear a clink in a glass.  I’m bracing myself against the kitchen island like a lost shipwreck in a lake of fire when I hear it.  A tumble and a crunch that, for some reason, triggers a sensation in memory as shivers run through my hot, wet skin.

-Stay there.

You’re up.  You can’t sleep either can you.  You need just what I need.  Some way to stifle back the heat.

-Stay right there.

I don’t know if I can move anymore, even if I tried.

-Try this.

It’s then that I understand what you had, what salve or offering had drawn you out of bed and down here as well.  It’s cold, shocking in this heat but soothing in all the right ways.  It’s wet and melts against my warm body.  I imagine steam rising as it does.

You start at my neck, just below my hair, moving side to side across my shoulders, a cape of melting ice flowing down my back, before running it down my spine, slow, diminishing and warming as it falls into nothing but streams of lukewarm sensation.

Your cold fingers glide through my hair, guide my head forward as you bend me over, chest down to lay flat and still breathless in this heat.  Still so very hot.  Still needing so much more.

-Let me help.

The glass clinks again. Your hand returns.  The ice is so cold at the start, all three cubes in your hand as you draw them across my back, tickling across my sides.  I squirm under your touch, held down with your hand still in my hair, lifting the damp hair from my neck.  The water pools along the valley of my spine.

I ask for more. Please, more.

You spread my legs, bare feet guiding bare feet apart.  With tussled hair atop my head your hand slides down.

If you don’t help break this heat I don’t know how I’ll get through this night.  This oppressive, steaming air and suffocating miserable -

Ice, so much cold ice held against the back of my thighs.  I’m whimpering as I realize you’re not going down my legs.  Though water drips and streams away your hand roams higher.  It’s close. So very close.  So nearly what I need but the ice keeps melting so fast.

It can’t compete against the heat.

We need more.  So much more.

The table is cleared. The tablecloth falls to the floor.  The icebox is pillaged.  Each crunching and clacking sound sends shivers of anticipation.

And then I’m lifted, laid back upon the table and splayed out.  Just as I was in that suffocating hot room where we lay night after night.

Handfuls of ice fall all across my stomach and chest, tumbling from my collarbones to rest in the cleft of my neck, firm and oh-so-cold as you glide that icy salve across my lips and press it further into my mouth to melt across my tongue.  Your hands bring even more, just beside the rise of my hips.  And there’s more in your mouth as well.  You’re breathing frigid air down onto me like a cold winter wind, like a swim in a glacial stream.  It drips, from me and from you.

Good god, we’re almost there.

The ice is melting fast.  More is added to the pile upon me. The table is slick with their melting remains, tiny icebergs losing the battle and cleaving to slide between my legs, straight to your waiting lips.

[impala1967dwinchester]

Dean Winchester: Change is due

*Credit to gif owner*

Pairing: Dean W. x Reader

Pov: Reader

Warning: Fighting, Swearing, fluff, angst, Dean being a douchebag, guilt.

Summary: What about talking instead of fighting.

Word Count: 1.8k

A/n- This is for band-pyschos 1.5 followers bingo writing challenge. This makes me sad, but whatever.

Square- "Stay with me"

Dean Winchester Master List

Main Master List

Tag list: @akshi8278 @deanswaywardgirl @wonderfulworldofwinchester @doctorlilo @hit-meup69 @fofisstilinski

The drive to the bunker was quiet. The rev of the engine. The downright scariness of the way that all I could hear was the passing of other vehicles on the road. That sound too eventually stopped as the driver back to the bunker was much longer than originally anticipated.

Dean had a temper like nobody's business. The temper of a wild dog, or maybe it was a wild bear. Regardless Dean's temper was downright scary most times. But then again most times that temper of his was never directed towards me.

Yes between miniature fights, and getting annoyed with each other fights did occur, but nothing too bad. You see, three years into hunting and now living with the famous Winchesters. I had fallen deeply for Dean Winchester.

Falling for someone is an already dangerous game, but falling in love with a Winchester. The most hunted after, hunters of them all that was a dangerous game to start playing.

I played the game regardless. Can you imagine falling for someone so much that your worlds just connect so well? Like amazing jigsaw puzzle pieces. Or maybe falling in love was like finally figuring out the correct word in a crossword puzzle.

Like Forrest says "Life is like a box of chocolate, you never know what you're going to get." I would have never been able to tell you that when I was a little girl playing in my room running around in the pure white dress that I would one day grow up kill the monster that haunts this earth, and fall for the most righteous man, the fallen soldier, the best hunter I had ever met.

Could you imagine a six-year-old, coming up to their parent and saying that one day they'd fight monsters, and fall in love with the greatest monster hunter of them all. In your dreams.

Life with the Winchesters was most of the time pandemonium. Life with them was like living in the thunder dome. Like driving on the icy roads and hoping that you don't fall off the cliff. But life was calm sometimes, being able to have a half-assed normal life was good for all of us.

Sam was the best brother a person could ask for. The best friend a person could ask for. I think the moment I met the Winchesters, Dean and I were like magnets dragging each other together. Slated to be together for the rest of our lives, soul mates if you will.

This last hunt was nothing like we had ever dealt with before. So many children had been killed. I had put myself in the way, getting hurt instead of letting more children get hurt. A natural mother... or maybe just a natural instinct of a woman.

Dean, of course, was anger like normal, but usually, his anger would blow over and we'd either make-up or like the band, AC/DC says "You shook me all night long".

this night was different though. Something was off, something felt wrong. Yes, the drive was long and very fucking quiet but something in the air felt wrong. I'd like to think that I'm a tough cookie, a queen disguised as a princess.

I always think that Dean forgets that the reason he and I get along so well is that we are almost alike, in almost every way. We act the same way, love the same things, react the same way. Two peas in a pod if you will.

Dean tends to forget that when he gets angry, but comes to his sense rather quickly after, he either gets blown off, or the subject gets changed, something that he does often to Sam or me. In the situation where he knows he has no control, or where he is uncomfortable, feeling like he's being pushed into the corner.

I used to let Dean act like a douchebag. I let Dean get mad, yell, throw things, get in my face. But recently. Dean's anger has been out of this world, too much to bare, too much to handle. he almost turns into the hulk. It's like he forgets his normal manners and just wants to hulk smash literally everything around him.

How do you make someone realize what they are doing? How do you show someone how they are acting is affecting you?

Finally after what felt like days, but was really just hours of driving we pulled into the garage, the sound of the engine bouncing off of the cinderblock walls. During said drive Dean and I made eye contact once, his green ember eyes staring deep at me through the rear-view mirror. My own eyes making sure to stare at him with just the same amount of deep soul searching Dean was.

Sam steered in his sleep, the coldness of the garage and the car smell waking him from his sleep. Not a single word was said. Sam was the first one out of the car, opening the impalas back, grabbing his bags, and making a rather quick exit of the garage.

Neither of us moving from our spots. We sat in silence. A silence that's a funny word if you think about it. It the most screamed word when you're being told to be quiet. But it weighs heavy between two people.

Fighting was and has never been my style with Dean. Dean wants to yell and be an idiot then I'll let him be, but I won't go without saying my peace. I'll get up and leave if I want to. There's nothing holding me to the man, an argument is just a battle of words.

Finally, Dean moves, moves to look in the back seat. His eye passes over my figure like always. Passing by over my crisscrossed shins up to my jean-covered thighs, over my hips, up my t-shirt and flannel covered belly, up to my tall shoulders, and to my face.

The little light that was streaming into the impala's backseat. "Why?" Was all Dean said, staring at me. I chewed my lip thinking of anything to say. "Stop chewing on your lip. It's finally started to heal." Dean said.

Still, my body stuck in my crisscrossed position. I heard the creak of the impala, as I saw Dean shift from the front seat to the back seat. "I'm pretty sure that I just told you to stop doing that." He said bringing his thumb up to my lips, gently pulling down releasing my bottom lip from my teeth.

"What were you thinking?" Dean asked picking once again at the issue at hand. "I was thinking about the children," I said looking at the man next to me. It was quiet for a moment, then a heavy sigh filled the air.

"The children?" Dean said questioning me. A cocked-eyed eyebrow raised in confusion to my answer. Sometimes it's like my answer is either not good enough, or isn't the right one. "Yes, the children," I stated calmly.

"I'm getting confused here Y/n," Dean said shifting causing the smallest of creak from the old impala. "I stepped in front of the children," I said.

"Yeah, I kind of figured that but why?" He asked. This firstly is going calm, and Dean's asking questions just before assuming shit, but why does this seem odd, kinda like all of the sudden protecting the young kids isn't enough to get a few scrapes and bruises.

"Did the great Dean Winchester just ask me that?" I said now turning the tables and questioning him. "Yeah, I did." He said so cut and dry-like. "You really wanna know why?" I asked

We were still sitting in the back of his precious car. I had rested my head on the headrest, closing my eyes. Dean was just staring, it had become a bad habit of his after we got together.

"Because Dean those kids didn't deserve whatever that monster did to them. Hell, I just pulled ten kids out, you and sam pulled at ten each. Can you even imagine that, because I can. Being so scared that I can't even protect myself." I said.

Taking a deep breath in and sighing loudly.

"What are you talking about Y/n?" Dean asked, looking at me now with more intent. Wanting yearning to get to the bottom jar of worms we had so carefully opened.

"You know what ignore me, it doesn't make any difference," I said uncrossing my legs and turning to unlock the back door. I was stopped before my fingertips even grabbed onto the cold metal on the handle.

"Do you remember that promise you made me? All those years ago." Dean said, pulling me into his warm touch. His scent of bourbon and wood fell down around us. "No, I don't Dean," I said honestly confused about what I had promised.

"You promise me that whatever was on your mind you would come to me and talk about it. I know six years is a long time, but that day you promised that you've never broken that promise." Dean said while he drew small circles into my lower back.

"Tonight though right now, you're breaking that promise. You don't have to give me every single detail but just don't go walking in front of a monster because you don't know what else to do. You know that you can talk to your boyfriend right?" He said questioning me towards the end.

I only shook my head in response Dean took that as his sign to continue talking. "I just, I'm fearing that you're starting to drift away, and honestly Y/n. Honest;y Y/n I don't think I would know what to do without you." Dean said.

This is different, new, and odd. This Dean is someone who only comes out when the world is ending or the tears are about to be shed for the umpteen amount of time. This Dean, this is the Dean I fell in love with. "So make me this promise now, stay with me," Dean asked.

"Stay with you?" I asked, "Of course stay with you, I guess I just have to learn to be able to ask for help, right Dean." I said hugging him from the awkward position we had fallen into when he pulled me away from the back door.

"No more running, no more fighting alone. We do everything together now." Dean said, cupping my slightly tears stained cheek." Bumping our foreheads together in a sign of good faith you could say. I hummed and returned the favor.

Moments like this the calm, and the quiet. These were those times where I felt at home. I've realized with this job, hunting home isn't a place with four walls and a roof over your head it's about the people in your life. Make a home with the people who care about you. Make a home with the people you would fight anything to hurt, Make home able to be anywhere.

And when you can do that finally you can make home turn into love, and love into strength. Having all three makes you happier I'd like to think in the long run of things. So just "stay with me" that's all I'm asking of you, the rest we can do together.

Completed on: 05/06/2021

*Happy Throwback Thursday*

[alicemitch09writes]

(un)loving miya atsumu

one.

the beginning of everything

then...

The place was new, that much was clear.

The buildings, houses were comparably bigger than the ones you’re used to.

And it was a lot less cold, since you weren't in Miyagi anymore.

It had been a long drive to Hyougo.

"Nee-san," you poked at your older sister's shoulder, she lazily stirred. On your other side was your younger brother, who dozed off as well. And then there was you, awake. For 12 hours. Not a wink of sleep. For some reason, you couldn't sleep during trips. Your uncle had said maybe because you were an anxious traveler, your mom would like to think that your mind was too active and liked to take things in.

You didn't know.

Hey, you were only 9.

A long way from home and into your new home in Kobe, Hyogo.

The whole trip - process, included, had been a blur. You could make out holding your sister and brother’s hands, hugging your crying kind neighbors and playmates, but feeling like a robot throughout the process.

And now, with your feet planted on the ground, (e/c) eyes just taking everything in - it was a lot to take in.

As was the house, the house you visited a few times – maybe once or twice. It was bigger, much bigger than your old one – wider, a two-story building, but enough to house four more guests.

On the way, you caught your uncle and mother’s conversation about how the suburb they’re living in is one of the best in Hyogo, boasting a view of the Sakuras which the youngins (you included) will definitely enjoy in time for spring, and was close to the station and the few minutes’ drive away from his work, where she’ll be joining soon.

You stand in front of your new home, examining the streets, noting the abundance of trees – sakuras, especially, like your uncle said. Leaning to your side, lifting your one leg away, you found a park just five blocks away, your brother would surely love that.

Planting your feet back, you gaze back into your house. Taking a deep breath, as though to have a feel of the area, a voice suddenly called out.

"Hey, who're you?"

Blinking, you turned. 

"Oi, don't be rude, Atsumu." another voice says next to him.

You blink again.

Twins.

Twin boys.

They looked to be about your age, standing a few feet away from your home, peering curiously at your uncle's truck, the boxes, and you.

"But hey, who're you?" one of them asks.

"Are you new here?" says the other.

Their accents were rather thick even for their age, rising with every syllable and somewhat airy compared to the standard Tohoku dialect you were used to.

"Yes." You reply simply.

Before another word was said, your uncle appears from behind you, a gentle hand on your head. "Well, if it isn't my favorite Miya boys - Atsumu and Osamu!"

"Uncle!" the twins says in unison, rather energetically.

Laughing, he wrapped an arm around you as he stood next to you. “What’re you boys up to, eh? Trouble?”

“No way!” says one, pitch rising. His twin beside him murmurs, “Maybe.”

“Oi, Osamu, way to keep a secret.”

Amused by the twins, you let out a chortle then a smile. It lasted for a quick second, but the two caught on it.

"Aha, so you can smile!" one of the twins pointed at you, his stubby finger just inches from your face.

"Atsumu, don't point!" his twin slaps his finger away. "s'rude, and ya might poke her eyes out!"

Beside you, your uncle chuckles at the two, seemingly used to their antics.

You just stare at the twins - at their identical features down to the littlest details. And then it came to you.

"You're Atsumu," you looked at the boy to your left, who jumped at your voice. "And you're Osamu." you say to the boy to your right, who blinks twice at you. "Right?"

The twins blinked at you, eyes wide like saucers, then looked at each other in silence, then to you. It was almost comical how the twins reacted to something like this, and just how in sync they were.

Beside you, your uncle throws his head back and lets out a guffaw. "That's my (Y/N)! Such a smart cookie!"

Feeling his large hand ruffle your head, you ducked your tiny head and smiled a little, feeling warm and proud all at once.

"How did you know!?" Atsumu yelled, demanded, stepping in front of you.

"Atsumu," Osamu said in warning, pulling him back harshly. "sorry 'bout this one."

You smile at Osamu in understanding, already liking his calm demeanor as opposed to his twins.

You shook your head at the two, leaning against your uncle as you continued to stare the twins down. Man, they sure were full of energy and perfectly balance each other out. Without even knowing, the corners of your lips quirk into a smile.

now...

A blur of blue, yellow, and red slowly lands on the ground, just inches away from the line, as players desperately try to save it. But it was for not. The ball lands with a smack.

The referee raises a flag, an in.

The whistle blows.

And then the stadium bursts with joy.

Inarizaki has won the first set.

“Hey, manager-?!”

“Service ace is in favor of Atsumu.” Just as he threw his fist in the air to celebrate, you added. “More than half were fails, by the way." At that, the teen flinches. "You got way too excited for the rest.” The team snickers, Osamu gloating in the background.

“The fact that she actually kept score is amazing.” Ginjima said in awe.

“Nothing escapes her, what a reliable manager!” Kosaku praises with a smile.

"There's nothing noteworthy about that," Kita adds, arms folded over his chest, the two players quickly silenced and felt a shiver run down their spine. "but if it helps boost morale and keep the peace, then it's fine."

“Kita-san and Manager are always in sync, that's just creepy,” Suna thought aloud as he took a sip.

Someone’s hand lands on your head as you check your notes one last time, it was the captain’s. “Well, when you have a reliable manager, all is well!”

Thinning a smile, you nod at everyone. “Come on now, we should head to the other court.”

Although he was not a regular player, Kita was there beside you to act as an assistant manager. He’d also be there to give tips and give the team a much needed scolding that their lax captain couldn’t give. It was both coaches and the vice-captain’s idea. It also helped that you were there, too. Ever the hard-working, illustrious and known for the moniker – ‘Inarizaki’s Fox Keeper’.

Just as you turn, you felt arms wrapped around your shoulder. “Let’s win this shit!”

“’Tsumu, get off (Y/N), you’re tainting her with your stupidity,” says Osamu, appearing beside you.

“Ha!? Shut up, ya scrub!”

“Why don’t you say that to my face!”

“I am in your face, you asshole!”

The twins’ yelling sounded off, their noise adding to the excitement of the tournament. Practically all eyes were on you, because of the twins.

Used to this, you decide to speak your mind. “Guys, I am in between this childish tomfoolery.”  To which the twins flinch at, comically look at you in unison.

“Oi, that’s foul play, (Y/N)-chan.” Atsumu says, pulling you close.

“Yeah, you know we’re both too stupid to understand complex words.” Osamu seconds, pinching at strands of your hair.

“Yeah- HUH!? WHO’RE YA CALLIN’ STUPID?”

Reaching the other side of the court, you were stuck between the twins as they fought for the nth time as the rest of the team watches.

And then there was you, a faint smile on your lips.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Wriggling out of your uncle’s arms, you announced that you were heading inside, barely sparing the twins another look.

Suddenly, out came your sister from the car, rubbing at her eyes as she walks towards you. "(Y/N)!!!!! Why didn't you tell me we were here already?"

“You looked like you needed the extra sleep,” you told her, taking your still sleeping brother from her arms. “Seriously, he sleeps like a log.” You comment on your baby brother, tucking his head on your shoulder.

Looking behind you, your sister asks, “Who’s uncle talking to?”

“The neighbors.”

She perks at that, ever the social butterfly that she was. “Oh! Let’s go say ‘hi’ then!”

“You do that, I’ll get inside, get Kaoru into a bed or something, then help mom out.”

Pouting, your big sister grabs the back of your shirt. “Geh, come on!!!! You’re no fun, (Y/N)!”

“Oya, Mika-chan, you’re awake! Come, come, say hi!”

Smiling at your uncle’s words, your big sister practically skips to his side, grinning toothily as she introduces herself. “Hi! I’m (L/N) Mika!”

“Nice ‘ta meetcha!” Atsumu grins back, swiping the underside of his nose. “The name’s Atsumu.”

“Osamu,” his twin says with a small smile.

As one, the twins look behind your sister, meeting your gaze, almost expectantly. Not long after, so does your big sister.

With a sigh, you hoist your little brother in your arms, walking towards them. “(Y/N),” you mutter. Your big sister bumps her hips to yours, you cry in pain softly. “Hi, I’m (Y/N).” She bumps again, with a slight frown on her face, you paid no mind. “And this sleeping lump is Kaoru.”

“Ain’t this adorable, the youngins catching up!” your uncle exclaims, happily.

Mika grins widely at the two boys, who grin back at the you all in turn.

From that moment on, you knew these twins would be a part of your lives, yours, especially, for better or for worst.

masterlist • two

[theglowstickchronicles]

I wish I could bottle the feeling I have when thinking of my air conditioning unit.

To many -to most if not ALL- of you, that probably sounds like a really weird sentence. I don’t live in the desert where it’s 120 degrees in the summer, and I don’t live in the tropics where the humidity is consistently 90%. Where I do live is New England, where global warming has meant the “first heat wave of the summer” aka it’s been over 90 degrees and over 85% humidity for the last 4 days, the last 2 days of spring and the first 2 days of summer. And I’ve also lived in a house with central air for 3 years without almost ever using it.

Let me start off by saying we had a window air conditioner growing up, and we almost never installed an air conditioner in my bedroom, so a window fan had to suffice. Central air was what my rich friends had, and was a sign of being upper middle class. I’m unfortunately still in the very lower end of middle class but I have a fantastic credit score, thus a house with central air.

So to start us off, I have a false sense of being upper middle class which has its drawbacks but ultimately feels pretty good. In about a week and a half I’m going to need you guys to remind me to post a picture of my backyard pool I just bought so I can show you the level of my delusional ass.

Recently it has been hot and humid. I’m talking being sweaty 24/7. I was sweating in the shower. The air itself is wet. I’ve been straight up leaving the windows of my car open at night and at work because otherwise I literally can’t drive and have to wait outside while it cools down. I’ve been standing in front of a fan while watching television or typing. I considered sleeping in my basement for am embarrassing amount of time yesterday. And this is coming from someone who slept UNDER A COMFORTER with just a window fan until I turned 26 and bought my own house, because even when I rented a house with friends my room had only a box fan in the window due to the shape.

I knew something had to be wrong with my central air on account of the fact that I set it to 64 when I got home from work Saturday and when I woke up Sunday morning, feeling like I had just gotten out of a hot tub, it was 78 degrees in the stagnant air of my house. I’ve only used the central air 3 times in the last 3 years and that had never happened, so I did what any sane person does and googled the problem.

Turns out there are 9 billion reasons your central air won’t blow cold air, which narrowed it down exactly none. So I did more intense googling, turning on my nurse brain, and did what any good critical care nurse does: starts at the patient and works their way back. 

Now I need to remind you that I’ve never had central air, thus my father has never had central air. The man has taught me a lot of things about a lot of things; how to mow the lawn, how to build a garden, how to change a light bulb, what different lights on my car mean, how to build furniture (not from scratch), etc. The two things the man did not teach me was about central air, and how to call for a professional for help because in my house we did not do that, we just fixed things and crossed our fingers.

So I took my Dr. Google Handyman education and followed the air ducts to the main central unit and found where the air filter lives. It turns out you are supposed to change those over 3 months which, my bad, it’s been a few years. Needless to say it was disgusting. Luckily the previous owners had left 2 replacement filters in the basement, which I had been ignoring since 2017. I triumphantly turned the AC back on and waited for the cold air to blow out.

Nothing.

My Dr. Google Handyman education then informed me that due to not being able to blow air, it’s possible the condensor coil had frozen. I did more googling because what the fuck is a condensor coil. Well let me tell you boys and girls that shit had about 2 inches of ice on it, despite being 95 degrees outside.

Problem.

So I did what any sane person would do and I cleaned the outside unit, sprayed it with warm hose water, and turned just the fan on. Dethawed that bitch. 

And I will let you know this: it was a crisp 66 degrees in my house when I woke up this morning.

I feel like this must be what patients feel like when they WedMD their shit and decide they have cancer. 

I’m clearly an HVAC expert. ANDDDD I did it MYSELF. No Dad to help. Just me and my chromebook. And the sangria I drank when I got frustrated.

I had to take excedrin this morning even though we aren’t supposed to take tylenol before work so they can check for fever. Sorry, wine headaches take precedence. 

Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

[something-tofightfor]

Neon Lights Part 3:

Part 3 (The last part of this self indulgent story for tonight). 

Parts 1 and 2 are on the 500 follower event masterlist if you’re so inclined to read them... and in  turn, this... (scroll down a few posts on my blog). I am on a roll with this one, and have written almost 8,000 words today alone... I’m going to try to wrap it up here in the next few parts... but we’ll see. 

Pairing: Ryan Brenner x Reader

Word Count: 3400

Rating: M (language)

Summary: The second part of your second encounter with Ryan, featuring some Gelato, a rainstorm, and an unexpected revelation.

Tagging: @ooo-barff-ooo @agent-bossypants @likethetailofacomet 

Ten minutes later, you and Ryan were sitting at the tables inside of the Bellagio shops atrium, next to the windows so that you had a good view of the fountains. You’d stopped at the gelato shop just inside the doors, Ryan shaking his head no when you’d offered to buy his. “You slipped a $50 into my case last night without batting an eye, so I’m sure you can afford it, but this is on me.” Raising your hands in surrender, you’d ordered your desserts and then after he paid, you walked over to sit. “So.” He’d tucked his guitar case and the crate between his chair and the window, keeping a careful eye on both. That guitar is important to him. “So you’re here for a bachelorette party, and yet you ditched your friends to hang out with me. Why?” You thought for a minute, taking a few bites and watching him do the same before answering.

“I love Vegas, but I don’t… I don’t like it with a group, if that makes sense. I’ve been here a ton of times, and this is … “ You shook your head, drawing your finger across your lip to wipe off stray gelato before sucking it into your mouth, and though he was subtle, you saw Ryan watching your movements, eyes trained on your finger. “We have two more nights here, and I just needed a break.” He nodded sympathetically, and you continued. “I love Amy, and Jessie and Josie are OK, but the other three aren’t my idea of fun.”

 “They probably didn’t like the idea of you runnin’ off to see me, did they?” You shook your head, rolling your eyes at him and he grinned, another spoonful of gelato disappearing into his mouth. “Well, I promise you, I’m an honorable guy, especially since we’re out in public an’ all.” It was your turn to laugh, shaking your spoon at him and raising an eyebrow. What if we weren’t in public? “This is my first time here, and it’s been fun. Been here for a couple days now, and I’ve made some good money.” So he is a professional musician.

 “You play for a living, hmm?” He nodded. “I’m not surprised you’ve made some cash here, people come to Vegas to lose money, at least giving it to you, they know it’s going somewhere legitimate, not into a slot machine.” As Ryan finished his dessert, he looked at you, his eyes again looking your over. “What?”

 “You’re not gonna ask anything else?” You frowned, swallowing your last bite. “No ‘where you from, Ryan? What’s your family like, Ryan? How long you stayin’ Ryan?’”

 “Do you want me to?” You had to admit that you were intrigued by him - it was in your nature, you were used to asking people questions about themselves learning them by sight, but you just shrugged, the cool air inside the building blowing across your burning shoulders. “If you wanted to tell me about yourself, you would.” He leaned back in his chair, taking his hat off and running a hand through his hair again. “Long story short, I saw you. I thought you were very talented, and I wanted to watch you.” He smiled, a soft one. “I’m sure you have a story, Ryan. But there’s no reason to waste what little time we have talking about the things that bring us down, or the things we can’t change.” You turned your head and gestured out the window, where the fountains were going off. “Enjoy Las Vegas, especially if this is your first time here.”

“What do you recommend?” He nodded at you, eyes bright. “To do, I mean? I’m gonna work tonight, and then maybe go explore tomorrow before I head out.” He’s leaving before I do. You felt immediately sad at this news, but you tapped a finger on the table, thinking.

 “Old Vegas, Fremont Street? That’s my favorite. I also love the inside of the Wynn, but that’s… it’s just a personal thing.” He nodded, and you pulled your phone out of your bag, checking the time. 9:40. He’s gonna have to get back. “You might like it. I don’t know if you’ve seen pictures of Fremont or of the insides of the different casinos, but… every one is different, each has a theme.” Ryan paused before answering.

 “I haven’t actually been in any of the casinos.” What? “Since I’m not stayin’ here, I figured there wasn’t a point. I’m not going to gamble, either. Not worth it. I make enough to get from place to place, and I can’t afford to lose it.” I understand. You looked back at Ryan, who was staring around at the hall you were in with wide eyes, watching the people. He came back to you, biting his lip and shook his head. “I should get back, though. I don’t wanna waste too much time.”

“Of course, I’m sorry, I took up too much of your time, Ryan, I -” He reached across the table, rubbing his thumb across the back of your hand gently, which was not what you would have expected from him.

 “You didn’t.” He shook his head. “I’d like for you to come back with me and stay a while if you want, it’s nice to see a familiar face while I play.” He squeezed your hand, and without hesitation, you nodded, standing up and grabbing your trash while Ryan picked his things up, following you back out the doors. There was a charge in the air, and as you rode upward, you noticed that there was lightning out over the mountains. “Does it rain here?” You shook your head, shrugging your shoulders. “Good.”

 He settled back in against the wall of the bridge, pulling out some of the bills and coins and scattering them in the guitar case as he sat and started playing again. He chose a few more modern songs - some Eric Clapton, The Doors, even a John Mayer song, and then as the wind picked up, he looked at you, glancing up toward the sky. You nodded, even as the lightning flashed - much closer now, the wind whipping your dress around your legs. It’s going to pour. I was wrong. Ryan apologized to the small crowd that was still gathered and carefully packed his guitar away, pulling his hat down low over his eyes as he stood and faced you. “How are you getting back to your friend’s?” You were talking loudly to be heard over the wind, and you stepped closer to Ryan. “Cab? Uber?” He shook his head.

 “No, I’m gonna figure out the buses.” You’ll get soaked. Even as you thought this, the first fat drops of cold rain fell, splashing onto your bare arms, and Ryan sighed, his shoulders slumping.

 “Ryan, you’ll get soaked.” He squinted at you as the rain began to fall harder, other people scurrying and scattering. “Come on.” You reached out, gripping his hand. “Come back to my room with me and wait it out, we can look up schedules or whatever, but it’s going to pour and if you stand out in it, your guitar…” His eyes widened as you brought up the guitar in the soft case and he nodded, letting you tug him in the direction of the escalators. By the time you reached them, the rain was coming down hard, and so you didn’t wait and climbed down the steps, hurrying to reach the safety of the overhang of the hotel, where a ton of people were gathered already. “Come with me.” You smiled at him, reaching up to push your damp hair away from your face, the pieces that had come loose from your bun sticking to your skin. “I’m in the Flamingo, it’s right there.”

 He followed you quietly, his hand still in yours, and when you made it into the casino a few minutes later, he immediately stopped walking. You turned to look at him, but he was staring around the room wide eyed, taking in the slot machines, the tables, the music and the noise, a smile on his face... “It’s…” He shook his head. “I didn’t think it would be like this in here, I’ve never…” You stepped back to him, shivering in the AC as the water dripped down your bare skin. He turned his gaze to you, brown eyes following a raindrop as it made its way down your cheek, and he reached out, wiping it away from your skin without a second thought. You shivered at his touch, but it wasn’t because you were cold - no, it was because it was an intimate moment, a connection with Ryan that you hadn’t even imagined possible just a few minutes ago. “What’s the rest of the hotel look like?”

The moment broken, you pulled your hand from his, wiping beneath your eyes and shaking your head as you turned away from him, breathing hard. Don’t lose your shit over him now. You just invited him to your room and you barely know him. “I’ll show you.” You looked back over your shoulder at him and waved him forward. Ryan followed you to the bank of elevators, and you used the time that you waited in the mirrored hallway to stare at him without shame. His shirt was clinging to his skin, his jeans wet in places, too. The hat had kept his hair mostly dry, which was more than you could say for yourself, but unless you were mistaken, Ryan was watching you in the mirrors, too, his eyes focused on the way the damp material of your dress clung to your figure. When you pressed the button for your floor in the elevator, and then held the “door close” button down so the car wouldn’t stop until it reached your floor, he leaned his shoulder against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. “Yes, I’m near the top. No we’re not in the penthouse. This was the only block of rooms on a non-smoking floor that was available, and…” Ryan laughed, shaking his head. “What?” He stepped away from the wall and toward you, but you didn’t move. “What?”

“You make it a habit of inviting strange men to your hotel rooms?” You dropped your jaw in mock surprise and then glared at him. That’s actually a fair question, though. “I just want to know what I’m in for.” You tolled your eyes, stepping out into the hallway and Ryan followed as you made your way to your room, using your key card to unlock the door, flipping the light on.

 “Make yourself at home, I’m going to change my clothes, this dress is soaked -”

“That’s a shame, it looked good on you.” Ryan had set his guitar down next to the chaise, leaning it against the wall, then set his hat down on the table next to the window. “This room is really nice.” He went from talking about my dress to the room? You shook your head, crouching down next to your suitcase and pulling out a tank top and shorts, surreptitiously pulling out a bra and shoving it between the other items. Ryan was walking around the room, and had made his way to the window, looking down over the street. “This view… I can’t imagine staying here. This is nice.”

 He sounded almost wistful, and you continued to dig around in your bag, pushing your camera case to the side. “Here.” You stood, your clothes in one hand, a grey t shirt in the other. “I brought this to sleep in, and it’s huge on me… it may fit you, though it might be a little short.” He took it from your hands and without pause, reached down to pull his shirt off. You froze, unable to look away as he laid the shirt out on the chaise, bending over and exposing his bare back to you. Another tattoo, he’s got more than I thought. He stood up straight, keeping his back to you and pulling your shirt on, muscles in his arms and back flexing.

 “It fits fine. Thank you. Go change, if you’re done starin’ at me.” He turned to face you, one eye squinted shut, but a smile on his lips. “We’re gonna be here a while, and you seem to keep this room as cold as possible, so…” You turned quickly, walking into the bathroom as Ryan turned back to the window, arms crossed over his chest. You took your time in the bathroom, changing your clothes and staring at yourself in the mirror, wiping off  the small amount of smeared mascara under your eyes. You wanted to know more about Ryan, but didn’t want to ask - didn’t know how he’d respond, didn’t know where to start.

 Finally, you slid open the bathroom door - which was made of opaque glass, and found Ryan perched on the edge of your bed, your DSLR in hand. “Oh.” He looked up at you, a guilty look in his eyes and you moved to sit next to him, taking the camera from his hands. “You found my camera.” You looked over at him, smiling. “I’m a photographer,” you explained. “That’s what I do for a living. I’m technically not working right now, but I can’t help it, I feel… naked without my camera.” You pressed the power button and opened your gallery, handing the camera back to Ryan. “You play music for a living - make music - and I take pictures. I let the images tell the story instead of words.”

 He was quiet for a few minutes as he looked through the pictures, and you leaned in, looking at the screen with him. “These are…” He shook his head. “You’ve got an eye for this.”

“That’s not what my parents said, they wanted me to do anything but photography.”

“What do they do?” He was still tapping through, the images changing quickly. You paused before answering, feeling yourself shudder. It’s ok. Just tell him.

“My mom was a lawyer, and my dad was a doctor.” He stopped scrolling, turning his head to look at you. “I got through four years of undergrad and two years of law school before I decided I didn’t want anything to do with it.” You took the camera from Ryan’s hands, wanting to do something with your own so that you didn’t twist your fingers. “They were not happy. They were even less happy when I told them I wasn’t going to try to get a real job, that I was going to travel and take pictures because it made me happy.” You ran the camera strap through your fingers, and after a moment, Ryan took it from you, setting it down on the bed and taking your hand in one of his, threading his fingers with yours as you looked down.

 “You said ‘was’.” You nodded. “Somethin’ happen to them?” You swallowed, nodding. “You can tell me if you want.” His voice was soft, urging you to continue even though you didn’t want to. I came here to not think about this. I - “Or don’t, that’s fine too.” You raised your head, catching his eye.

“They died a little over a year ago.” He sucked in a breath. “I was… away, in Canada, actually, and someone broke into our house, and my dad…” You shook your head. “He fought back, and that was it.” You felt tears in your eyes. “They didn’t want me to travel for work, but that’s the only thing that saved my life.” You smiled sadly at him and Ryan squeezed your hand. “I haven’t been home since the funeral. It’s been one trip after another.” You laughed. “I spend a week or two at most at a time in a city, and then move on. I sell pictures to different magazines, to websites, to businesses…” You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “What a way to live, hmm?” He was smiling at you, eyes crinkled up at the corners. Smiling? Really?

 “I’m sorry about your parents, I really am.” You thanked him. “But you’re doin’ what makes you happy, right?” You nodded. “That’s all that matters. You’re making enough money to survive, you’re seeing the world, you’re…” He pulled his hand from yours, running it over his chin and scratching his fingers through his beard. “We’re alike.” How? “I haven’t been home - my real home - in over ten years, since I was about sixteen.” He sighed. “I… hop trains, go between places whenever I want to move around, to see a new city, to meet new people.” You stared at him, not believing what he was saying. So he’s homeless. He’s… following his dream, and living life day by day. “It’s freeing, right?” You felt yourself nod, and Ryan shifted on the bed, turning himself to face you. “Never staying in one place, never knowin’ what to expect. You meet the people you’re supposed to meet, that you need to meet, and…” He trailed off, staring at you, his eyes moving over your face, dropping down to your lips and then back up. You watched as he parted his own lips, shaking his head slightly, and you moved one of your hands, resting your fingers on his knee.

 You don’t know him, what are you doing? He just told you he was… The room was totally silent aside from your breathing, and you stared at Ryan’s face, noting the thin patch in his beard, the birthmark under his right eye, the way his thick hair was untidily falling over his forehead. You realized that you wanted to kiss him - that you’d wanted to kiss him since you had first locked eyes with him the night before, that it didn’t matter who he was or what he did, that you were attracted to him, that meeting him had been what was supposed to happen. “Ryan…” His name left your lips in a whisper and you leaned in, heart beating quickly. He leaned toward you too, the distance between you closing inch by inch. You could feel his breath on your skin, feel his tattooed fingers closing around your upper arm, your own pushing down on his knee.

 This is going to happen, it’s… You began to close your eyes and then the building shook slightly, a loud clap of thunder startling you, and you straightened up, eyes moving to the window and Ryan’s hand dropping from your arm as he stood, moving toward the bathroom. Shit. Shit. Shit. He pulled the door closed behind him and you buried your face in your hands, wordlessly.

---

[moonlightchildz]

Stuttering

Namjoon

!vanity dresser sex

mature (m) it’s a long one cause our Joonie needs more love & appreciation x

“Hey are you going to see this RM rapper everyone keeps talking about?”

You raised your gaze from your journal and looked over at your friend. “Hm?”

“You know? Rap monster? He wears this skull mask to cover half of his face to keep his identity a secret?”

Oh you’ve heard of him all right. That’s all that was trending on your social media and the people who attended your community college was all they could talk about. Apparently this rapper’s stage name is Rap Monster and he is widely popular for his hidden identity—and of course for his rapping ability.

“I have tutoring today, remember?” You reminded her for the millionth time already and she just rolled her eyes at you.

“Just ditch him and come get ready at my house.” She said simply, as if blowing up your tutor for an event that you weren’t even into was worth you failing your class.

“I’m not going to ditch Namjoon just to go see some rapper who may or may not be a waste of my time. I have to know this material by the end of this week or else I’ll fail my class.”

She just grabbed her phone and started typing immediately. Her nails tapped against her phone and that just added to your annoyance.

“How can he teach you something right when all he does is stutter?” She rudely implored and you raised an eyebrow at her stupid question. “I mean seriously, you can hardly understand him.”

You slammed your pencil against the table.

“How can I focus on my homework when all I hear is you talking?” You snapped out of nowhere and she looked surprised at the sudden change of your attitude.

“Are you seriously getting pressed over this?” She mused out, her eyes taking you in. “A few study sessions with him and now you’re his protector, cute.”

You opened your mouth to tell her to fuck off already and then you heard him.

“Hi, Y-Y/N.”

Your heart did a double take within hearing your name fall from his plump lips. Immediately you spun around and couldn’t help but smile at Namjoon in adoration. Your eyes swept him straight from head to toe and you couldn’t control the fluttering of butterflies in your stomach.

“Hi, Namjoon.”

“R-Ready to a-ace this t-test?” He asked you nervously, eyeing your other friend who looked irritated with his presence.

“Yeah, are you r-ready to a-ace this t-test?” Your friend mocked him underneath her breath and your smile disappeared as soon as she spoke.

You could tell Namjoon had heard her since he looked down at his hands and avoided your gaze. His dimpled smile was gone and this made your heart ache with anger for him.

“No, but I’m so ready for you to leave.” You snapped at her and she seemed to be taken from surprise.

“Are you being serious right now?” She laughed and when she saw your angry expression she stopped laughing. “You are.”

“I’m not here to tolerate your stupid comments, not today.”

“I was joking.”

“I don’t care.”

“Okay then,” she stood up from her seat. “I guess I’ll leave then. You know, since apparently nobody can take a joke.”

She grabbed her purse and shoved her way past you, mumbling under her breath. Namjoon just quietly chuckled and your body turned towards him, eyebrows raised in questioning.

“What?”

He just shook his head.

—-

“Y-You didn’t have t-to do that,” he spoke up after a while. You watched his hands easily handle the wheel and you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander down his toned arm. There were veins running up his forearm and you couldn’t help but admire the rings on his fingers.

“Yes I did,” you uttered out as you leaned back against the seat. “I would have bitch slapped her too if she kept talking more shit.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at your comment. “I-It’s okay. I’m used to them a-anyway so at this point I don’t really c-care.”

Of course he knew you would definitely do it, but he wasn’t worth losing your friends over. He could take those comments because he was used to it and at this point he didn’t fuck with it anymore.

He stopped on a red light and glanced over at you. You had your feet propped up on his dashboard and you were singing along to whatever song you played on the aux.

“S-So tell me again why we c-couldn’t just study at the library?” He asked you again and you just hummed out a response in return.

“I didn’t want to be there anymore.” You admitted to him honestly. And also you wanted him to yourself, alone. Namjoon tended to relax more whenever you two were alone and you wanted to hear him laugh, to hear his cute stuttering where no one else would judge him.

Namjoon couldn’t help his stutter. He had an anxiety problem that made him trip over his own words whenever he would meet someone new or tried to talk to someone, his stuttering could not be helped. No matter how hard he tried not to stutter, he could not help it. It was one of his flaws, or so he believed.

Another reason you wanted to study with him in your room was because no one would be there today and he tended to be more touchy towards you behind closed doors.

You definitely noticed that the last time you two were together for the first time. His fingers would graze your shoulders and occasionally his amazing hands would massage your shoulders, loosening the stiffness in your muscles. You remembered his hands because dear lord that night he caused you to lose focus and made you slowly tilt your head back in pleasure.

A moan was about to escape your filthy lips but he removed his hands from your skin and you quickly snapped out of your stupor. He hadn’t noticed the effect he had on you and that was for the best since you tended to lose control of yourself pretty often. You didn’t miss the way his hand would touch your thighs for anything. Whether it was to lean over to get something, or use them as leverage to stand up and stretch. He had raised his hands and arched his back slightly, causing his shirt to rise and give you a glimpse of his toned body.

That night, he had initiated something in you.

He had invaded your thoughts and he had managed to haunt you in your dreams and you relished on them. You dreamt of how he could  kiss you hard on the lips, how he would use those sinning fingers for something purposeful, and you dreamt about you touching his beautiful body. You dreamt of how he would feel under your touch, his eyes screwed shut as he yelled obscenities into the air.

“A-Are your p-parents home?”

You snapped out of your thoughts and shook your head once you processed his question trough your head. “Nope.”

Namjoon didn’t missed the way you had lost yourself into your thoughts. Your fingers had gripped on to the edge of your seat and he didn’t miss the way you crossed your legs and kept clenching your thighs together. He immediately averted his gaze from your thighs and gripped on to the steering wheel instead.

He should not be thinking of you this way. You weren’t interested and he had to get that through his head already, but he couldn’t help it. That night where out of impulse he had began to massage you, he almost lost his self control after your reactions towards just his hands. You had dropped your pencil and your eyes had fluttered closed as you threw your head back against the chair. He sucked in a breath once he saw you part your lips in pleasure and that had made his cock twitch.

He immediately let go of you once he saw you clench your thighs together.

“Joon?”

“Hm?” He turned towards you and noticed that you had already climbed out of the car.

“Are you planning in staying there the whole day?” You sarcastically quipped and he couldn’t help but chuckle in response.

He slowly retrieved his things from the back seat and trailed after you. Once you both stepped inside the cool air of your home, you made sure to lock the door. Namjoon followed you towards your room and his eyes trailed down from the back of your head to your perky ass and your tanned legs. His hands itched to grip your thighs, to let them run down your legs, and grab a handful of your ass. He gripped his fingers into a fist to stop him from thinking of you that way and prayed to Jesus to give him strength.

“You hungry?” You asked him and he nodded since he couldn’t find his voice.

“Um yeah,” he cleared his throat. “C-Chinese food?”

You quickly ordered online through your phone and meanwhile he excused himself to go to the bathroom. He splashed himself with cold water and rubbed angrily at his eyes to get him to snap out of it already. But he couldn’t help but think of you clenching your thighs, of your parted lips moaning his name, of your nails raking now down his body to leave marks behind.

“Fuck.”

___

“Where do we start?”

You looked up from your journal, a pencil in between your lips. He stood on your doorway, his stance casual. He leaned against the frame with his arm and that simple movement made his taut muscles stand out from his t-shirt. You quickly averted your gaze and cleared your throat as you simply bit down on your pencil again.

“I was thinking page 239 on problem...” you searched your notes. “Problem fifteen.” You said and he just sat next to you, nodding as he grabbed his books from his backpack.

You couldn’t help but inhale his familiar scent of Irish springs soap and your favorite cologne.

“O-Okay so how about y-you try to do the p-problem first and if you’re s-stuck, just s-say the ‘safe word’.” He mocked you from that one night you had told him that you both needed some kind of safe word from whenever you needed him.

He had made fun of you at first, but then he had muttered out, “Muse.”

“What?” You looked at him in a split second.

He seemed nervous at first, but you met his eyes and that was all the courage he needed. “If you ever n-need me for a-anything, just say m-muse and I-I’ll be right next to you in a h-heartbeat.”

Your heart raced and you couldn’t control the smile that was quickly spreading on your lips. You had cleared your throat and looked back down on your work.

“Then in that case, muse.”

___

“Fuck this shit!” You slammed your journal shut and got up from your chair. You ran your fingers through your hair and just avoided Namjoon’s amused gaze.

“Y/N,” he gently called out to you, but you were just so done and tired of not getting the concept.

“I just can’t grasp the concept,” you kept talking to yourself, ignoring him. “It’s so fucking difficult for me and I’m done with this shit-Ugh!”

“Hey,” You felt Namjoon’s hand gently grasped your arm, trying to turn you towards him. But knowing Namjoon, he tugged harder than he should have and you ended up being pulled into him completely. You of course didn’t mind.

Your hands landed on his upper arms and you gripped on to him, your heart beginning to spiral out of control. Your eyes had slightly widened and Namjoon instead of letting you go, his hold on you tightened.

“D-Don’t beat y-yourself up too hard, okay?”

His hands were warm, that’s the first you noticed. And the second thing you noticed was the way his fingers softly traced patterns into your skin, trying to calm you down. But instead of calming down your senses, it jumpstarted them and now you were more than aware. Your heart was racing from being so close to him and the urge to kiss him was becoming so incredibly strong for you.

“Y-You’re an incredibly intelligent and beautiful w-woman who can do a-anything she proposes to do so this is not worth you l-losing your shit over.”

Your words got stuck in your mouth. You couldn’t find a single coherent sentence to say back to him so instead you just lowly said his name.

“Joon?” Your voice was low, calm, and sultry. 

He towered over you and you loved that. You loved having to get on the top of your toes to reach him. You weren’t exactly short, but you were somewhat shorter than him and that was fine with you.

You slowly walked closer to him to the point where your hands were on his broad shoulders now. You weren’t thinking with your mind anymore, your heart had taken over completely now. And how could you, when this man was telling you that you were this intelligent and beautiful person while looking at you straight in the eye. Out of temptation, you lightly traced his collarbones over his shirt, his eyes following your finger’s movements. You invisioned yourself sucking on his skin, leaving bruises behind to mark him as only yours. You wanted to so badly place your lips against the crook of his neck and feel him shudder against you. You wanted to hear him moan out your name as you sucked him into his own little oblivion.

A slight dampness was all you could feel in your panties now as these thoughts clouded your mind, but he was too innocent. He was too innocent and he didn’t see you that way whatsoever. You sighed into his chest and held on to him, trying to wipe away these illusions of calling him yours.

You started to pull away from him when all of a sudden he wrapped his strong arms around your body. One hand had been placed around the back of your neck and the other was wrapped around your waist. Goosebumps rose on your skin once you felt his fingers lightly ghost over your hot skin.

“Namjoon,” You breathlessly began, your eyes meeting his glazed ones. You opened your mouth to say something, but instead opted out to let your fingers tangled themselves into his hair. This movement made him groan out against your skin and you tugged on it, causing his head to tilt back so he could look at you.

“I want you to kiss me.” 

“You sure?” He husked out and he caught you by surprised. He hadn’t stuttered this time.

“Muse,” you told him more fiercely and that did it. He pushed you up against the wall and hitched up your leg to wrap it around his torso. He toyed with your feelings at first since his lips ghosted over your exposed skin, lightly trailing up the crook of your neck, nipping and sucking on your skin. He was purposely avoiding your lips.

“Fuck,” you whimpered out, your shaking hands gripping on to the back of his head as he continued to bruise your skin. He tilted your head to the side for better access and bit on to your skin, making sure to mark you where everyone could see. Your hand had snaked underneath his arm and you gripped on to his back, your body beginning to torturously grind on to his cock that was beginning to harden.

Your nails raked over his exposed skin and he thrusted his hips into your dripping self out of response.

“Kiss me you bastard,” you demanded out of breath, he hadn’t even fucking kissed you on the lips yet you were already breathless.

“So demanding baby,” He nipped at your earlobe and your hold on him tightened.

“Please,” you pleaded at him and his cock throbbed at the sound of you being so needy towards him.

He harshly cupped your face and grinded into, watching your reaction. “Anything for you princess.”

He tangled his fingers into your hair and finally kissed you. His mouth harshly collided with yours and you were thriving in pleasure by now. You practically jumped on him, your legs had wrapped around his torso and your arms locked around his neck as he kissed you so hungrily and dirty like you wanted it to be. He sucked on your bottom lip and gently bit on it, dragging out as he pulled away from you to look at your heated gaze.

He was so good at this and it was so hard for you to believe it at first. He knew what he was doing and that drove you crazy.

You pulled him down towards you and kissed him to the point where you knew your lips would be bruised and your teeth clashed against his so hungrily. Tongues lashed out and traced each other’s lips, wanting to memorize every curve and savor his taste.

His hand began to wander down between your inner thigh and you were ready for him already. All this waiting and it was finally happening.

And then his phone began to ring.

At first you both ignored it, but it kept on insistently ringing and Namjoon had to let you go. He forced himself to release you and he groaned against your lips in exasperation before he pushed himself away from you. You legs were still trembling and you traced your swollen lips with your finger, watching this strange Namjoon answer his call.

You heard yelling from the other end and he cursed. “I forgot. Yes, fuck, I’m sorry. All right quit your fucking yapping already I’m on my way.”

The caller hanged up and he immediately began to grab his belongings in a haste. You just stood there in shock because one) he had cursed and that turned you on even more and two) he hadn’t stuttered whatsoever.

“Joo—“ you started and he just stopped right in front of you, looking disheveled and troubled all at the same time. He cupped your neck in his large hands and kissed you one more time, only this time it was more sweet and gentle. He lingered for a bit, wanting to just take you right here and now but he couldn’t and that frustrated him.

He pulled away from you as you reached out to him. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“I—What’s going o—“

He raced out of your room before you could finish your sentence. 

___

You felt your phone vibrate underneath you and you quickly grabbed it, expecting it to be Namjoon, but instead it was one of your closest friends.

Elizabeth: heard you & maddy got in an argument over your boy joonie?

You: she was being a bitch to him. Also, I need someone to talk to ASAP. It’s about Namjoon.

Elizabeth: I’m headed to the rapper’s event thingy, pick you up in an hour. 

You: All right, see you in a bit.

You grudgingly got up from your bed and looked over at the wall where Namjoon had sucked the life out of you. Shaking your head, you went straight to your bathroom to get ready for tonight’s event that you hadn’t even  planned on going.

After you gave yourself a glance over, you couldn’t help but let your fingers trace the little love mark that Namjoon had intentionally left for you. You grinned to yourself and instead opted out for something more revealing since you wanted people to know that someone who you truly adored had claimed you as theirs. You had left him some hickeys on his collarbones and on the crook of husbands neck as well, but you couldn’t wait to see him again to see the scratches you had left on his shoulders and back. Something about claiming someone as yours may sound weird and offensive to some, but you loved the idea of calling him yours—even though technically he really wasn’t.

You changed from your t-shirt and jeans into a crop top that slid over your shoulder to showcase the marks he had left behind and some high waisted jean shorts that made your legs look really fucking great. After being done with curling your hair and make up, Elizabeth called you and told you she was outside.

“Okay, so spill.” That was the first thing that had come out of Elizabeth’s mouth as soon as you climbed into her car. You couldn’t help but laugh and went right straight to the point.

“So he’s stuttering just stopped out of nowhere as he was nearing to the point of almost fucking you?”

“He was this other version of himself and the fact that I thought he was innocent completely blew me away once he showed me he wasn’t.”

“So those hickeys are from him.” She stated rather than asked because she already knew the answer to that. You just remained silent and she grinned in the darkness.

“Well, I bet you’re going to be in for another surprise the next time you see him.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” You said, completely oblivious of her double meaning.

___

The parking lot was full and the side of the roads were too. You looked over your shoulder to see cars still trying to come in and you wondered how good were these rappers and especially that RM guy that everyone kept talking about. The line was up to the curb of the other street and you were astonished.

“We’re going to miss the concert from the looks of it. Just look at the line!”

“Yeah, that sucks for them.” Elizabeth said as she avoided the traffic by going into an unknown path that led straight to the back of the stadium. She was stopped by the security guards, but she just sighed in annoyance and flashed them her I.D.

“He didn’t say anything about a plus one,” one of the guards then looked at you. “She needs to leave.”

“Unless you want to receive an angry call from Yoongi himself, I suggest you stop trying to over do your job, okay? Now let me in.” 

“Elizabeth,” you whispered out, your eyes widening. The guard just shot her an angry glare, but he stepped out of her sight and signaled to let us in. 

“I usually don’t have to deal with guards that are assholes,” she muttered underneath her breath. “Anywho, the rap line won’t start for another 10 minutes since the vocal line just finished so we’re just in time.”

She parked right next to a very luxurious car and you were careful while stepping out since you could not risk scratching a freaking Aston Martin. Why’d she have to park so close to it in the first place? You squeezed yourself out through the tight space and as Elizabeth urged you to follow her, you couldn’t help but allow your gaze to wonder through the parking lot. 

A familiar car stood out from all these luxurious cars. A very familiar 1967 black Impala car that a certain person has driven you in to various places. You ignored Elizabeth’s calls and quickly your feet began to guide you towards the car. His car.

Namjoon is here, and he’s apparently exclusive if he’s parked here.

“Come on!”

You snapped out of your stupor and trailed after her, occasionally looking over your shoulder to see Namjoon’s car still be there. Elizabeth had to grab a hold of your hand to practically rush you since the interference was about to be over.

“I thought you said we were just in time so why are you rushing?”

“I miscalculated the time! We arrived just in time for the interference to be over.”

As we made our way through backstage, we got to see so many people moving back and forth, shouting at each other that five more minutes until showtime. 

“Where on earth is my rap line?” Someone shouted from behind us. “Where’s my leader for fucks sakes!”

We passed two make up professionals that were touching up this very attractive guy who kept looking side to side. His long, puffy hair stood out and his long earrings dangled as he practically bounced up from his chair.

Agust’D. That was the name printed on the fancy chair.

“Yoongi!” Elizabeth bounced into a sprint and the man quickly turned around at the sight of her voice. His irritated sneer quickly transformed to this gummy smile as he matched her pace. He caught her in his arms as she kissed him. His ring covered hands held her face as they practically made out in front of incoming and outgoing people.

And that’s how she got these V.I.P tickets apparently.

 “I thought you weren’t going to come.” He whispered against her mouth and she shook her head in disagreement.

“No matter how pissed I am, I’m still going to be here to support you.”

You stood apart from them, letting them have their moment from afar.

“Two fucking minutes people!”

They sprung apart. 

“Can somebody for the love of God get RM from his dressing room?”

“He’s coming he was just texting his girl,” another guy appeared from behind you. The first thing you noticed was how perfect and sleek his nose was and the second thing was how beautiful he was.

“J-Hope, finally!” 

“Hey Eli,” he greeted her as people fixed his mic. His eyes then met yours and you smiled at him.

“Hello! And who might you be?” He said ever so flirtatiously to you. His charming smile and his boisterous, but joyful personality would have probably reeled you in if you’re heart wasn’t already taken by a certain person.

“That is my good friend, Y/N.” Elizabeth introduced you, smiling widely and quite knowingly.

Yoongi then decided to finally pay attention to you. “Wait a minute, aren’t you RM’s gir—”

“Would you look at that!” Their manager shoved past Yoongi and J-Hope. “Look who finally decided to show up! RM everyone.”

You started to turn around to see how this rapper looked like since by judging Yoongi and J-Hope, he must be gorgeous as well. 

“Come on, let’s get to our seats.” Elizabeth tugged you away and you looked back to see who this RM person was, but the dim lighting made it hard to differentiate his features. All you saw were his deep and dark chocolate colored eyes, the rest of him was covered from head to toe. His eyes were on your faded figure as you disappeared into the crowd.

___

After Yoongi got his solo entrance, you got your phone from your pocket to record J-Hope’s entrance. But as you turned on your phone, you realized you had received a message from Namjoon before Yoongi’s performance started.

Joon ❤️: I need to see my muse for inspiration.

You: just tell me when and where

You couldn’t help but look at the crowd behind you, thinking he was part of the crowd as well. Your fingers traced your lips in remembrance of what had happened earlier and you grinned to yourself.

“J-Hope everybody!” 

The crowd went wild. Not only could he rap, but dear lord could he fucking dance. He had the whole crowd screaming the entire time.

“Now this song is special to us since this represents how we’ve been feeling lately, especially with all the shit RM has been going through with trying to keep his identity a secret.”

They introduced this song as Cypher pt 4.

“RM!” They both introduced him and this mysterious rapper finally walked out into the stage, causing the entire building to shake as the crowd chanted his name.

His voice was smooth like honey and he kept hidden in the dark lights. “Name, name!”

“Sorry bae!” The crowd chanted back. He kept chanting and the crowd ate all of it, chanting back in return. When the beat dropped, he approached the stage and the crowd hollered in excitement as he began to flowlessly rap. He had a skull mask that covered his face but his eyes.

You stood there while everybody else jumped up and down, catching the meaning behind the lyrics, catching his voice, and connecting the dots together.

“The sound that I’m making now bae To someone else, it’s like a dog’s bark bae.”

Yeah, are you r-ready to a-ace this t-test?” Your friend mocked him underneath her breath and your smile disappeared as soon as she spoke.

“Why don’t you change your pattern Of talking shit about others bae.”

“How can he teach you something right when all he does is stutter?” She rudely implored and you raised an eyebrow at her stupid question. “I mean seriously, you can hardly understand him.”

“It’s about to get boring, boring bae I’m not hateful of you anymore I’m not hateful of you anymore sorry bae.”

“I-It’s okay. I’m used to them a-anyway so at this point I don’t really c-care.”

And then everything clicked.

“You son of a bitch.”

That’s Namjoon on the fucking stage. Your eyes curiously searched his face and when you saw his eyes, your mind began to spin from bewilderment. What the fuck?

You watched in pure amazement and awestruck as Namjoon pranced around the stage, owning the crowd with everything he spilled out of his mouth. You knew he sounded familiar, and with his car parked outside for performers and V.I.P members only you quickly had put two and two together.

“I LOVE YOU RAP MONSTER!” You quickly turned around to see who had shouted that and when you saw Maddy right behind your exclusive row, anger quickly pricked inside your body. Namjoon had heard and searched the crowd for the voice that sounded so eerily familiar to him. 

Once he spotted your friend from the library he sarcastically said to the mic, “This song and Cypher pt. 4 are dedicated for people like you.”

The crowd ooh and mocked her as she stared up at him, dumbfounded.A traditional and eastern sound echoed through the stadium and as if the crowd already knew it, they sprung on their feet and began to chant their names in unison

“Ilpal ilsam sampal ddaeng You wrong me right jal bwa ddaeng.”

Namjoon had retrieved his hat from his hair and you finally got to see his black and beautiful hair. He suddenly flung his hat into the crowd and girls screamed as they fought over it.

“Even if I st-st-stutter my words I h-hope you understand I la-la-lack a way with words Bu-but I try to speak correctly but my mouth keeps ge-ge-getting crooked Because I li-li-li-like it I li-like it very much.”

Your mouth dropped open as he finished rapping the last verse and he covered half of his upper face to flash the deceiving smile that danced on his lips to the crowd. You couldn’t help but laugh at Maddy’s hurt reaction since you knew he had hit a sore spot. Watching him enjoy himself had sparked something within you. His little devil smirk, and how he carried himself with this self confidence had you eyeing this handsome man in a new light. Throughout the entire time, you were hypnotized by is movements. The way he walked on stage with this newfound cockiness that you have never seen before, the way he rapped dear lord, and these subtle movements of him touching himself so publicly and freely, had your heart beating rapidly and this heat to pool down between your legs.

“I’m sorry, did I s-stutter this time?” 

Your heart swelled with pride and you had this shit eating grin plastered on your face as you cheered for him. 

“Where’s my vocal line at?” RM or Namjoon, screamed into the microphone. Suddenly four other incredibly attractive guys walked into the stage, causing you to cover your ears from all the shrieking screams. 

“For our last song we’ll dedicate this to each and everyone of you who came to support us.” Yoongi said, his eyes landing on Elizabeth.

“And finally, this song goes out to my muse!” Namjoon yelled on to the microphone and this unfamiliar beat started, but the crowd ate it all up.

Best of me.

Your hearing was drowned out by the loud chanting and the blood rushing to your ears, but it didn’t matter because Namjoon dedicated this beautiful song to you. That must mean you truly mean something to him just like he did to you.

“C’mon,” Elizabeth rasped out, her voice all gone after all the screaming she had done. “It’s time for you to meet all of the rappers.”

___

Elizabeth rushed you towards the end and a security guard that was already waiting, accompanied  and led you both backstage. Your heart was pounding mercilessly against your chest at the mere thought of seeing Namjoon.

“Fuck I gotta pee.” Elizabeth suddenly said and before you could say anything she dashed down the hall, leaving you by yourself against the entrance of some dressing rooms.

The door swung open immediately after she had left and Agust’ D —or Yoongi—came out, otherwise the guy who Elizabeth was infatuated with. His eyes landed on you.

“She went to the restroom,” you awkwardly informed him. You usually weren’t like this but Namjoon had invaded your thoughts to the point where you couldn’t even think.

“Ah, well do you want to come in?” He gestured to his dressing room and you politely shook your head. There was a knowing glint in his eyes and he approached you suddenly. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you smiled at him.

“Okay well any request? Water? Soda? Pot?” He jokingly added and you let out a small laugh.

“No, but thank you.” He nodded and began to step back inside when suddenly a thought fleeted through your head. Your hand grabbed his bicep, stopping him for a second. “On second thought, can you tell Nam—RM something?”

His ears perked up at this. “Depends what it is.”

“Just tell him muse.” You simply said and Yoongi seemed taken back by that.

“Muse?” He repeated again to make sure he wasn’t hearing things. “That’s it? No declaration of love for him or that you’re his biggest fan? Just muse.”

You couldn’t help but find his confusion amusing and slightly irritating as well. “Yes, Yoongi that’s it. He should understand.”

He noticed you were beginning to get irritated and raised his hands in defense. “All right, I’ll tell him.”

“Thank you.” He just nodded.

“Uh, can you tell Eli that I’ll be here waiting.” With one last nod, he stepped back in and slammed the door shut. “Muse?” He muttered to himself but nonetheless he walked to the other door on his far left and barged inside RM’s dressing room.

“Hey so this weird girl just told me to tell you—“ He stopped talking once he saw RM sliding on a fresh t-shirt over his scratched up shoulders and back.

Yoongi couldn’t help but let out a whistle as he smirked at him. “Now I understand why you were so late.”

RM looked down at what he was referring too and rolled his eyes. Damn it, Y/N.

“Was it your so called muse? What’s her name again?” Yoongi insisted, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek to prevent him from laughing anymore.

“Y/N.” RM tells him and continues to gather his things.

“Y/N,” Yoongi then stopped on his tracks, remembering what the girl had said. “Hey does anybody know your identity?”

That made RM stop and turn around to face him immediately. “No, why?”

“Because this girl just told me to tell you that she said ‘muse’ and that’s weird since you call your girl that.”

RM’s heart suddenly started beating rapidly, “Muse?”

“She said you would understand—“

Suddenly he was shoving past him and Yoongi just stared at him, dumbfounded.

____

You stood there for like five minutes before you decided to walk towards the restroom since you needed to pee too. You didn’t see Elizabeth so after you were done you walked back to the direction of where Yoongi’s dressing room was at and imagine the surprise you get when you spotted  Namjoon with Maddy.

You stopped on your tracks.

Maddy had Namjoon cornered. Namjoon, who wasn’t covered, and practically just revealed himself to her.

“I should have known it was you,” she said to him, her voice coming off seductive. Her hand raised and landed on his face, gently cupping it. Her other hand was slowly sliding up his arm, her smile devilish. 

After the shit she talked about him and now that she realized Namjoon is the so called RM rapper, now she wants him? He called her out on her bullshit so why is he letting her touch him like?

So why wasn’t Namjoon telling her to stop,

“How?” He finally spoke up, his voice rough and low. He eyed her with disdain and you casually leaned against a wall, crossing your arms against your chest as you watched from afar.

“I always knew there was something fishy about you,” she stepped closer to him, her eyes meeting his. “In fact, I always thought you were pretty cute, but the fact that Y/N claimed you saying you were hers, had me stay away from you.”

Your ears perked up at that and you had to refrain yourself from laughing. Claimed him? From her?

At this he raised an eyebrow, “She claimed me?”

“She’s crazy, Joonie.” She shook her head, feigning sadness. “If you only knew half of the things she has said to me about you, you would be repulsed by her.”

“And what exactly,” he grabbed her wrist, detaining her from touching him more. “Has she said?”

Her eyes remained on his as she lied and said, “That she wanted to prove to me that she could get anyone—including stuttering morons like you.”

“Stuttering morons,” he echoed out loud and your heart dropped. Was he believing her? Your eyes frantically moved back and forth from him to her deceiving self.

“She even faked getting horrible grades because she knew you would be the top student to be able to help her in that subject.” Maddy continued and as she kept on talking you felt this rage quickly begin to overcome you.

“I’m sorry about her,” she whispered. “I’m sorry about the things I said to you and I am truly sorry, Joon—“

“Don’t,” he pulled away from her.

“Don’t?”

“Don’t call me that and don’t talk about her like that.” He suddenly stepped away from her. Maddy seemed at loss for words and she even tried to grab a hold of him, but he just shoved past her.

“Namjoon,” she called out to him, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion and irritation. “Are you seriously going back to that bitch?”

He suddenly stopped walking. “I’ve apologized for what I’ve done and yet you’re going to go after her? Unbelievable.”

Namjoon bored holes into her and she shrunk back, “Just because you apologized doesn’t mean I’m going to forgive you for half the shit you talked about me. And for the record Maddy, she’s not a bitch, you are.”

Maddy’s eyes widened and her mouth pursed into a thin line. She opened her mouth to say something, but Namjoon turned around and kept walking. You stood there, watching Namjoon confidently walk back into what you believed what his dressing room.

After a few seconds, Maddy stormed by and the smile that was laced on your lips could not be wiped away. You saw her disappear around the corner and that’s when you got out of your hiding spot.

Your phone started to ring and you quickly grabbed it to silence it.

Joon.

He was calling you right this instant and you didn’t know what to do. What would happen if you just knocked on his dressing room? One way to find out. You let the call go to voicemail  as you walked up to his dressing room. With a deep breath, you knocked hard against his door.

“I swear to God, Yoongi.”  Namjoon abruptly flung his door open and then the irritated expression that he had on his face was quickly wiped away once his eyes landed on you. 

He quickly hanged up his phone and the grin that was quickly beginning to spread across his beautiful face managed to do wonders on you. His eyes hadn’t widened from surprise, shock, and just seeing you stand there looking right at him in his fucking dressing room.

“You asked for your muse,” you gently placed a hand on his chest and shoved him into his dressing room, causing him to stumble back. “And I have arrived.”

Namjoon couldn’t refrain himself from eyeing you from head to toe as you busied yourself in closing the door after you and making sure to lock it. His eyes lingered on your tanned legs before they flickered over to your beautiful face.

He was completely stunned by you in every way.

“I have so many questions as to why you’re here and how in the world did you end up here,” Namjoon murmured as you approached him.

“Or how I know that you’re the mysterious RM rapper?” You prompted and he quirked up an eyebrow at that. Definitely that too. “Let’s just say that you’re not as slick as you thought you were, well at least with me.”

He had known you for a couple of months and the fact that he had to hide this from you was absolutely nerve wrecking and incredibly hard since you were his muse. You were his inspiration and half the songs he had produced and written were inspired by you. So keeping this secret from you was a pain in the fucking ass.

“Well, it took you long enough,” he teased and you let out a soft laugh in return. You stopped walking and couldn’t help but look around his dressing room. The only thing illuminating the both of you were the lights coming from the vanity mirror. There were vases of flowers placed on it and various little note cards with hearts. He truly was an idol.

He suddenly cupped your face in his hands and soon enough your attention was on him again. “I’m glad it’s you who’s here with me right now.”

“Really?” You questioned him and he just leaned down to brush his lips against yours, catching you by surprise. He was being so confident. And he hadn’t stuttered!

“Yes,” He whispered against your mouth and soon enough your hands were on his arms, slowly trailing up to then wrap around his neck. The urge to touch him was strong and you couldn’t contain yourself no matter how much you wanted.

“We left some unattended business and I’m here to finish it.” You stood on your tip toes and you were the one to press your lips against his rather gently at first. Nerves were swimming in your body from being so close to him again and the butterflies in your stomach fluttered once you felt his hands grip your hips firmly.

The kiss was gentle and slow at first, but soon enough the urgency between the two of you to rip each other’s clothes off became too prominent—especially with the tension he had left in you ever since he slammed you against your wall and made out with you. You wanted more.

And you were bound to get it.

Your fingers tugged at his hair, earning a groan against your mouth and your tongue swiftly licked at his bottom lip, asking for entrance but he surprised you by gently sucking on your tongue. He was too good at this, so good. Your grip on him tightened and he definitely noticed since his hand traveled down from your hip to down your thigh, tightly gripping some of your thigh.

“Are you sure?” He practically breathed it out against your mouth and in response you hitched your leg around his waist to press him closer to you.

“Joon,” your voice was slightly raspy, low, and full of seductiveness. Your hands cupped his face, your eyes meeting his as you softly purred out, “I need you to fuck me against that vanity mirror right now.”

His pupils had dilated by your words and he kissed you—hard. His lips crashed against yours rather roughly and you moaned out in contentment. His hands swiftly lowered from your thighs to grab a handful of your ass, harshly squeezing it. A small gasp escaped your lips at the movement and he was there to capture it with his own mouth in an instant.

“Wrap your legs,” he commanded, his lips bruising yours as he said this, and you happily obeyed him. Your legs wrapped around him and you slowly grinded yourself against him, desperate to feel him.

“Jesus,” he groaned out and then he slammed you against the vanity dresser. He was tall enough to slightly tower over it since it was small enough compared to others and you looked up at him as he placed you on top of it. “Strip.”

You didn’t know where this dominant side of his was coming from, but you didn’t minded. In fact, it made the heat coursing through your body drip down between your thighs. You slipped off your shoes and went for your crop top immediately. You could feel Namjoon’s heated gaze on you and your hands started to slightly tremble.

You were nervous. What the hell? You never got nervous, except when it came to him.

“Is my baby nervous?” He cooed out, his voice raspy and low. He neared you and grabbed your hands in his, tugging you closer to him. His gaze intensely bored into you with this fervent emotion that it managed to knock out the air from your lungs.

“There’s no need to be nervous, princess.” His hands cupped the nape of your neck, managing to tilt your head up so his lips could kiss yours gently and so sweetly. “I’ll make sure to properly take care of you like you did with me all this time.”

Was he referring to you defending him?

“Relax,” he softly told you while beginning to pepper kisses across your nose, down your cheek, down your chin, and then leaving open mouth kisses against the crook of your neck. He responded to how you reacted against his touch and right now your hand was on the back of his head, pressing him closer to you as he nipped at your skin.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he whispered against your skin and you shivered against his mouth. He left a kiss on your skin before he pulled back to tangled his hands in your hair. You noticed he loved doing that. He loved tangling his fingers into your hair and you loved it as well.

His chocolate eyes met yours and you were puddy in his hands as you whispered, “I’m ready.”

“My little shy muse.” Your heart stuttered at his nickname for you and to prove him that you were ready you kissed him on the mouth, tongue lashing out to taste him.

He slowly let his hand trail down your side, causing goosebumps to raise in response to his subtle touch. He, of course, noticed this and let his hand slip underneath your shirt. You felt his fingertips press against your skin as he kissed you to the point where your lips by now were bruised and swollen.

He met your eyes once more for approval. And as he tightly fisted your shirt in his grasp, you nodded. Soon it was ripped off from your body and his eyes landed on your breast. They were covered by this black bra that left little to his imagination and he wanted it off already.

He went to unclasp your bra but you slapped his hand away. “Take off your shirt first. Now.”

He quirked up an eyebrow at your tone of voice and he couldn’t help but let his cock twitch at how you sounded so demanding. He dramatically took an exaggerating step back, and did as told. And your eyes, Jesus, your eyes took him in, in a instant. He hadn’t noticed the impact he had on you and the fact that he thought he wasn’t attractive or that he believed his stuttering were one of his flaws, was upsetting.

He was simply beautiful. From his alluring eyes, to the dimpled grin he was displaying to you right now, and to his flawless, toned body. He was lean, but broad. Sweet and gentle. He was everything you wanted and he was about to be yours to ravish. As he neared you, you easily unclasped your bra and flung it to the side, finally making yourself bare to him. The nerves that you were feeling earlier had quickly faded away since this was your Namjoon and Namjoon had this specialty at making you feel powerful and beautiful.

His breath got stuck in his throat as he took in your half naked figure. Your hair was a tangled mess and your lips were swollen due to him. The fact that you leaned back against your hands, cockily eyeing him had him almost slamming you against the dresser, ready to fuck you.

You definitely noticed his wild gaze since you decided to take matters into your own hands. You jumped off the vanity dresser and walked towards him, undressing along the way. And he couldn’t help but just stare like the Namjoon you knew and adored to pierces.

Your shorts pooled down at your feet and you swiftly kicked them to the side. Once you stood a few inches apart from him you couldn’t help but let your hands wander up his taut stomach. You slowly leaned into him, feeling his bare chest press against yours.

“Undress, baby.” You purred out in his ear, gently nibbling the outer shell. He shivered against your touch and you pressed him closer to you. “Strip, Joonie. Strip so you can properly fuck me like I know you want to.”

That did it.

His hands landed on your hips and he roughly pulled you close to him that you pushed up against his warm body in return. Your head was dizzy and you couldn’t think as Namjoon suddenly pushed you against the dresser. His hands slowly went up from your waist upwards to the nape of your neck where he then tangled his fingers into your hair.

Your hands were raised in surprise since he was determined to finish what you both started and you were stunned. One thing for sure that you knew was that he wasn’t here to play games, he was here to give you what you want and you were practically yearning for his touch since earlier before.

“I see my baby is back now,” he lowly told you and then he smashed his lips against yours. Your lips matched his quickened pace rather eagerly and he couldn’t help but press you up against the dresser even more, his chest against your bare own. You could practically feel his beating heart against your own and feel his chest heave up and down as he breathed out against your lips.

In desperation you grinded yourself against his strained cock and he groaned. He was taking too long to undress so you took matters into your own hands and quickly unbuttoned his jeans. You gave him no warning before you shoved his boxers down along with his jeans.

The sight of his cock pressing against his stomach made the pooling between your thighs intensify. Immediately your hand wrapped around his hardened cock, causing him to abruptly stop kissing you. He heavily breathed out against your mouth and you grinned.

“Holy who—” you had definitely caught him by surprise.

You watched as his eyes fluttered close, his grip on you tightening. You simply wrapped both of your hands around his cock, slightly squeezing. A muffled groan escaped from his lips and you couldn’t help but kiss his lips in return. He tried to reciprocate the kiss but that’s when your thumb slid over his slit, wiping away the precum that was already there.

“Jesus,” he couldn’t help but gasp in surprise and you were thriving as he let you take over him. Hunger. There was this hunger inside of you that hadn’t been satisfied and now that you were looking at Namjoon with his eyes screwed shut and his mouth slightly parted as you angled your wrist to pump him faster, that hunger was rapidly growing even more.

“Fuck, Y-Y/N,” he stuttered out, almost sounding like a plea and that made you clench your thighs. He was thick and long and that had you swallowing thickly.

“That’s it baby,” you purred out, nipping gently at his bottom lip. “Fuck my hand like you want to and pretend it’s my dripping cunt.”

“Holy shit,” he threw his head back, a throaty and ragged breath shakily emitted from his pretty plumped lips. One thing for sure was that he loved your filthy mouth. It had him quivering in delight for you.

And as much as he loved your dirty and very fuckable mouth, you loved seeing him beg for you, mouthing off how much he needs you at the moment.

“I need to feel you,” his voice was throaty and low and filled with command, but his actions said otherwise. “Please.”

With your other wandering hand, you let it grasp his balls, toying with them as you gently kneaded them.  And that single movement had him halt in his movements.

“I-I,” His tanned chest rose up and down, starting to glistened with sweat.

“Joon,” you let out a loud moan and fervently began to stroke him.You wanted to feel his cock inside of you. You wanted to feel his forearms flex as he fucked you against his vanity dresser. And dear lord, you wanted to see him buried deep inside of you as he makes you cum because you know he’s capable of doing that.

“Y/N,” Namjoon whimpered out and the desperation laced in his eyes soon was shown in his movements since he began to rock into your hand rather sloppily and rushed. Namjoon let his head fall against your shoulder, his heavy breathing an indication that he was so incredibly close. You slightly squeezed as he harshly thrusted into your first and he had to bit down on to your skin to silence his filthy grunts.

“I-I’m close.” He repeated ever so lovingly. His groans, his moans, and his desperate please for release had you moaning with him. His hands by now we’re under your arms, his fingers gripping the back of your shoulders as he bucked up his hips into your hand one last time before an animalistic groan emitted from his sinful lips. “Fuck!”

You felt the hot and sticky substance spurt out into your hand and you gently stroke him through his orgasm. His lips pressed against your neck as he heavily breathed in and out. With your other hand, you softly tugged at his sweaty strands of hair.

Your chest rose up and down, your cunt aching for a release and Namjoon fucking noticed it since you were soaking right through your thong. He couldn’t help but groan out at the sight of having you with his cum all over your hand and your other hand releasing his hair to trace your swollen clit rather harshly.

He quickly wiped you clean and once he came back to you he saw you simply stroke across your slit over the sorry excuse of underwear and you let out a shaky breath. Namjoon watched in pure bliss as you started to touch yourself right in front of him. He watched as you pumped two fingers into yourself, moaning as you curled your fingers inside of you.

“Joon,” you choked out, your pulsing cunt wanting more. “I need you to fuck me.” You gasped out as your fingers harshly slid in and out of you.

“Please,” you pleaded out to him and his cock was already hard again from watching you fucking beg him to fuck you.

“Spread your legs,” he commanded and you desperately followed his demands. He ripped your hands away from yourself and you whimpered at the sudden loss of contact.

“Joon,” you started, but his lips crashed into yours in urgency. His hands trailed up your sides, grasping your breast in them as he pulled apart from your mouth to leave hot and wet open mouth kisses against the crook of your neck. His fingers kneaded your nipple, tweaking it in a painful but blissful way and you quivered against him in pleasure.

“Fuck,” you shakily mewled out and that drove him to latch his lips on your breast, harshly sucking. His hands released your breast and instead he abruptly grabbed your ass and lifted you up so you could wrap your legs around him. The feeling of his throbbing cock against your barely covered pussy had you moaning already. You couldn’t help but rock your hips against his, feeling his cock press against where you desperately needed him. Rubbing against his hard tip had you needily clenching your thighs in response, but since your legs were wrapped around him you felt the tip of his cock press into you where you mostly needed him and that had you moaning already at the sensation. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing him closer to you.

“All right baby,” his fingers brushed your swollen clit to move your thong to the side and you jumped, since that single touch had you letting out a gasp. You wanted to feel his fingers, to make him make you cum with just his long and slender fingers, but you were impatient. 

“Condom?” You asked and he looked down at his pants that were still pooled around his ankles. Fuck. He began to release you to get the damn condom and instead you gripped on to him.

Namjoon stopped and looked right into your eyes, his pupils dilated with lust.

Fuck it.

“I’m on the pill.” And those words gave him a glimpse of heaven since he was going to fuck you raw for your first time with him. 

At the thought of imagining someone else touching you like the way he did, made this stupid and irrational jealousy course through him. So he steadied you against the vanity dresser to pry your legs opened from your tight grip around him, wanting to see that pretty pink and swollen pussy of yours before he fucked you because you were his at the moment. He tangled his fingers into your hair once again to harshly pull you closer to him. He wanted you feel him before he fucked your pretty brains out into oblivion. Your breaths mixed together as you both stared at each other in the eyes.

And then slowly Namjoon entered you. At first, you both had to catch your breath since the feeling of his pulsing cock inside of you had you both moaning in unison already. You’re nails were already digging into his skin, the pleasure taking over you.

He waited for you to tell him and you clung on to him as you throatily ordered him, “Move.”

He slid out of you and this time he slammed into you, causing your whole body to slam against the vanity dresser. A mixture between a gasp and a moan left your lips and Namjoon wanted to hear you do it again so he slammed into you once again.

“Joon,” you moaned out, your eyes screwing shut. Pain coursed through your body as your back repeatedly got smacked into the dresser, but the feeling of Namjoon slamming into you had subsided the pain and replaced it with this intoxicating pleasure that had your blood rushing to your ears and a moaning mess.

“Harder,” You breathlessly said to him and he rested your back against the dresser to the point where half your body was on top of it. Your hands shakily dug into his shoulders as he set a fast and harsh pace that had you throwing your head back in this animalistic bliss.

“Fuck,” he grunted out as his eyes landed on you. Your eyes were screwed shut, head tilted back, pretty pink lips parted and emitting endless loud moans that mixed his name and obscenities together in a sinful way.

“Namjoon,” You whimpered out, your voice filled with this unadulterated need that had him almost cum right there. He watched as your breast bounced up and down to his harsh rhythm and you were fucking loving it.

Your nails were digging into his arms, and these illicit moans were repeatedly coming from you as you completely lost yourself into him as he pounded into you.

“You feel so good around my cock,” he gritted out as your walls began to tighten more often around his throbbing cock. You were so tight and so ready to get fucked harder. You could only nod along to his filthy words, and he loved it. 

He surprised you suddenly when he abruptly pulled you up and sat down on the vanity dresser with you on top of him. The fact that he managed to do this so swiftly and with ease had you biting down on your lip in astonishment because his arms had flexed and you loved his arms. You really did. Along with his thighs. Dear lord, his thighs were thick and the thought of riding his thigh had you let out this shaky breath.

You suddenly noticed your legs were more wide open like this and you could feel everything. From his throbbing cock, to the deeper angle he was hitting as he guided you to ride him on his dresser.

You situated yourself so you could sink deeper into him, your fingers gripping his shoulders before you rose up and slammed down. A wave of this indescribable pleasure had your toes curling and your cries become more louder and consistent as your breast bounced up and down rapidly. You moved your hips harder to the point where your moans began to become whimpers and these choked up pleas to find your approaching release.

All Namjoon could do was latch his mouth on to your nipple as you rode him. His fingers were digging into your skin by this point and your filthy moans would be drowned out by his grunts. His hips rose up as you slammed down and your breathing halted at the newfound sensation as he hit a deeper angle. Your legs had begun to tremble and you were on edge as he continuously rammed into you.

“Joon,” your mouth parted open and all you could do was hold on to him tightly. Your arm had wrapped around his neck so he could support your body while he slid out and thrusted back in you repeatedly. Your head was thrown back and Namjoon couldn’t take it anymore. He suddenly stopped and hopped off the dresser to only press you up against it.

His fingers gripped on to the dresser as he pounded into you more harsher and more determined, making sure to hit that spot that made you into his moaning mess. The dresser shook from so much force that you threw your head back as you felt his fingers rub your clit. His movements were becoming more sloppy, but his cock filled you up immensely each time he slid out and pounded back in.

“I-I’m close,” you could hardly speak, the burning sensation quickly bubbling up inside your stomach.

“I know,” he groaned out as your walls tightened around his cock. God, you felt so fucking good and he was quickly approaching his release as well.

Your toes had curled up and your legs were trembling. Your moans echoed in his dressing room and he thrived from hearing you moan out his name so loudly and so many times. He wanted everyone to hear you scream his name as you came because only he could do this to you. Only he could get you so worked up. He gently pinched your clit as he slammed into you one last time and you had to hold on to him as you screamed out in pleasure his name.

“Namjoon!” Your arms had wrapped around his neck, and you arched your back as his lips came down to meet your breast. A shuddering blissful feeling overcame you and the force behind it had you come down against him. Your forehead pressed against his as Namjoon’s groans were muffled by your lips. He moaned into you as he pulled out just in time he came after you.

Chest pressed against each other’s, mouths parted as deep breaths came out,   and the quivering delight that was left behind was all you could feel surround you both entirely. The warmth he had given you while being inside you was gone, but his arms wrapping around your hot and sticky skin made up for it instantly. Your legs were still trembling from the aftershock of your hard orgasm and you couldn’t help but laugh at the situation.

“Fuck,” he heavily breathed out, his voice hoarse and low. Your arms were still wrapped around him and you dared open your eyes. Once you did, you saw how intensely Namjoon’s was already looking at you.

“Would you look at that?” You softly murmured out, a teasing tone laced on your voice. “Haven’t even taken me out on a date and you have achieved more than others.”

His boisterous laugh was his response and your heart soared at that. He just shook his head and gently kissed you, his fingers tangling in your hair.

“How about I take you out right now?” He asked, his lips peppering these light kisses  on your lips, nose, and neck. He softly nudged his nose below your chin. “We can eat and definitely talk about what just happened. What do you say?”

“Well Namjoon, you have one hell of a way of asking me out,” You mused out and he laughed. “But yes, I’ll accept free food anytime.”

He raised an eyebrow in disbelief, “You’re just saying yes because of the free food?”

“Yep.” You teased and then the sudden realization that he hadn’t stuttered caught up to you in an instant. “Joon?”

He kissed the side of your chin, “Hm?”

“How come you haven’t stuttered?”

He just chuckled against your skin, “Baby, the only reason why I even stuttered was because you made me so nervous.”

“And now after you fucked me, I don’t.” You concluded and he rolled his eyes at how you worded it. 

“I gained confidence you could say.” He said, his fingers gripping your chin so you could look at him. “But even then, you can still make me your stuttering mess.”

Damn it, Namjoon. 

You practically jumped on to him once again, kissing him hard on the mouth. His hands went down to cup your ass to press your nakedness self against his cock and then the door flung open. Namjoon immediately covered your whole body completely as Yoongi stopped on his tracks with his mouth wide open. The key that he had used to open the door immediately slipped out of his grasp as he screamed.

“My fucking eyes!” As quick as he stormed in, he had practically fled back outside. “Elizabeth! Help me!”

“What’s going on?” You heard Elizabeth’s voice throughout the door.

“Oh my God,” you whispered, horrified. Namjoon slowly let you go and you dashed off to get dressed. Why? Why did these things have to happen to you?

Namjoon all he could do was stand there and laugh as he said, “This is definitely karma.”

“What?” You sputtered out. “How could this be karma!”

“You have no idea how much I have walked in on him and his fuck buddies. Pay back.”

You threw your shoe at him, “Namjoon!”

[postapocalyptic-narnia]

Any Way the Wind Blows

Chapter 3, complete Word count: 2218

When Shasta finally hauled the bike from the car wreck and righted it, stars were splattered across the dark blue sky, and the climbing moon shone on his crimson uniform. His tattered fishing clothes were stowed in the cargo rack and a honey capsule was tucked into his cheek. It was wonderfully sweet. He keyed in his fingerprint and mounted the bike as the engine thrummed. White lines twisted across the nav screen, marking the coast, cliff edges, and the road ahead. Wordlessly, Shasta began to drive.

A few hours into the night, it was clear that the trip was going better than the night before. As the path descended into twisting and crisscrossing ravines, Shasta began to lean into turns to help the auto-stabilizer, to accelerate and decelerate more smoothly, to anticipate the jumps and kicks of the bike when he cut corners or leapt potholes. The ravine walls were so high, three men stacked wouldn’t clear the upper rim, and the bed of damp pebbles crunched under the bike’s tires.

The moon was high when Shasta broke the silence. “Tell me about Narnia.”

“92% of my knowledge is classified beyond your current level of clearance. Eyes on the road, please.”

Shasta made a face. “My eyes are already on the road. Tell me the information I’m allowed to hear,” he prodded, swerving and thumping over ruts in the gravel.

“If you didn’t drift to your left every time you talked, I might be convinced.”

“I’m driving just fine!” Shasta protested. The bike hit a pothole head on, bouncing through with a thump.

“Eyes on the road!”

Shasta ducked his head, focusing on the road. The moon was bright, but the ravine floor remained swathed in shadows. He didn’t dare turn on the headlight while they were still near Bithersee. He swerved around a pothole, then began weaving, jiggling the handlebars so the bike zig-zagged.

“What are you doing?” the AI asked.

“Practicing,” Shasta said, squinting at the road. He nearly hit a protrusion in the canyon wall and jerked the handlebars to the side.

“Practicing what, exactly?”

“Control.” He wavered near the other ravine wall.

“I appreciate the sentiment but: stop.” Shasta grinned, wiggling the handlebars. The bike thu-thumped through another pothole. “I said stop! You’re scaring me.”

“Can AI feel fear?” he asked, genuinely curious.

The bike buzzed. “It’s hard to know. But I do know that these rocks would be a lot less comfortable to fall on if I were to turn off the auto-stabilizer right now, Mr. Ace Speeder.”

“Is that a threat?” Shasta asked, taking a sharp turn a little too fast and tilting momentarily.

The AI switched tacks. “If you have one pressing question, I’ll answer it as best as I can. Just stop doing– that.” Shasta immediately straightened the handlebars.

“Deal. Tell me–” Start small. Easy to answer. “Tell me what the route will be like that we’re taking to the capital. Will we be crossing any mountains?” That would be mad cool. The bike’s tires sent pebbles clattering against each other.

“Unlikely.” Its voice cut off. Shasta rolled his eyes.

“I’m sure there’s something else you can tell me that’s not classified,” he said, raising his voice over the noise of the path. The screen flickered, catching his eye. A volume symbol, dropping to mute. “What are you doing that for?” Shasta demanded. “That was hardly a real answer.” Words flashed across the screen.

“Cah– cau– you know I can’t read that,” he said irritably, his glance flickering from the glass screen to the road ahead. A headlight really would be nice at this point. He had the most uncomfortable feeling of being watched. It would be wise to slow down. Instead, he twisted the gas, apprehension prickling his scalp as he accelerated. His surroundings smeared past, the canyon walls loomed dark on either side, the upper rims lined with the jagged silhouette of rocks. And up ahead, a dark mass–

A gunshot split the silence, nearly scaring him out of his skin. Light flashed, plastic shattered, water splashed: broken fragments of his plastic water bottle skittered across the canyon floor. He screamed. Ahead, his eyes mapped the shadows into a hulking blockage stretching most of the width of the ravine, on which the shooter stood. A crash was inevitable.

“Brake or I’ll blow out your tires next!” a shrill voice shouted. Shasta had already slammed the brakes, fear shooting electric through his veins, both of and for the shooter. The blockage approached far too fast. Brakes squealed as he swerved, zigzagging, throwing his weight against the pull of the auto-stabilizer as he desperately fought to decelerate. Another bullet shrieked past, clipping his ear. The bike’s tires lost their traction and it slipped onto its side, skidding across the ravine bed, skinning the side of Shasta’s leg and spinning him to a stop at the base of the blockage.

Shasta lay on the ground, panting. The side of his leg burned and his whole body hurt. His ear stung. There didn’t seem to be enough oxygen to fill his lungs. Rocks and wreckage clattered near his head as a pair of boots hit the ground.

But instead of footsteps crunching towards him, he heard the bike being pulled upright. Shasta rolled over, panic icing his nerves. “Stop!” he said, arms flailing as he watched the shooter mount the bike with practiced ease. Their head turned towards him and then back to the nav screen, tapping the screen. It flickered to life.

The AI’s impassive voice echoed in the ravine, too loud. “Testing fingerprints. Fingerprints unknown.” The screen went dark. Shasta scrambled to his feet, wincing.

“Leave the–”

The shooter dismounted rapidly, leveling their gun at him. His words choked. “Key in your fingerprints or I’ll shoot you. Double-cross me and I’ll shoot out the bike’s tires, then you.” The voice was muffled by swathes of fabric, but they sounded– young. Young and pitiless. Beneath layers of cold, churning fear, Shasta felt a little irritation. Was this just another kid? They couldn’t be taller than him, and under all the jackets and scarves they looked skinnier, too.

“Give you my bike– or you’ll shoot me?” he repeated, trying to buy time for his breath to return. The shooter nodded sharply. Shasta took a step towards the bike, then his knees buckled. He would’ve fallen if the shooter hadn’t caught him roughly, locking one arm beneath his armpit, their pistol pressed across his chest. Seizing on the moment of distraction, Shasta grabbed at the pistol, knocking it from their grasp. It crashed to the ground– the shooter cried out– and Shasta lunged towards the bike, tottering as he lifted the bike. Before he could swing his leg over, the shooter tackled him and fell, in a tangle of limbs, onto the rocky bed of the ravine. With an oof, his lungs were emptied of air again. Before he could try to stand, the shooter had latched onto his arm and hauled him a couple steps to the downed motorbike, pressing his hand to the nav screen.

“Testing fingerprints. Fingerprints accepted. Clearance level D. Identity unknown. Hello, friend of Narnia.” The engine purred to life; the shooter dropped his arm and mounted rapidly. The engine revved… and then died. “Inconsistent weight detected. Auto-stabilizer jeopardized.”

It was calibrated for his weight. Shasta dragged himself to his feet once more, a triumphant smile pulling at the corners of his mouth– but the shooter ignored him, staring at the screen. “Friend of Narnia?” they muttered. They swivelled, hand shooting out, grabbing Shasta’s arm and pulling him off balance. He collapsed again with a grunt against the bike as the shooter pulled up his sleeve, revealing bare brown skin. “You’re not a real speeder!” they accused.

He jerked his hand back, pulling his sleeve down. “Yes, I am!”

“You are not! You don’t have the tattoo!”

He sputtered. Tattoo? “What does it matter to you?”

“You know, impersonating an imperial official is illegal,” they said.

“Yeah, well, so is stealing my bike!”

The shooter crossed their arms. “I bet it isn’t even your bike. I bet you stole it from a real speeder.”

“Did not!”

The other person huffed. “Look, I don’t want to waste time. Tell me what the override code is, and I’ll leave you with your supplies. And I won’t tell anyone that you’re running around impersonating a speeder.”

“There is no override code. How about you get off my bike and I’ll forgive you for wasting half my water supply, trying to rob me, and threatening to kill me!” he shot back.

The shooter just shook their head. Shasta glanced around, searching for a bargaining chip. There. The shooter’s fallen gun glinted in the gravel. He lunged for it and pointed it at them. They just tossed their head disdainfully. “You’re not going to shoot.”

“I will,” he lied, trying to set his face into something determined and dangerous. He failed.

“You won’t. It’s not as easy as it seems. You’re paralyzed.” They paused. “Well, here we are. I can’t ride your bike, and you won’t shoot my gun. You can’t walk out of here, and I refuse to. Is that the shape of things?”

Shasta mimicked their snooty tone. “That does look like the shape of things.”

The bike’s nav screen lit up. “Then maybe you two crackheads should start working on a compromise,” the AI said impassively.

The shooter screamed, almost falling off the bike. Shasta snorted.

“Who was that?” they demanded.

“That’s the bike,” Shasta said.

The shooter gestured wildly at the nav screen. “That is not the kind of language I’ve heard from any decent imperial AI.”

“Which logically suggests that I am not a decent imperial AI,” the bike said smoothly. “And perhaps if you would fill us in on your reason for attempted robbery we could come to a compromise that doesn’t end in us spending the whole night here.”

The shooter pressed a hand to their heart, shocked into honesty. “I need a ride to the capital.”

“Excellent, that’s where we’re headed,” the AI said. “The bike has space for two. Carpooling is good for the planet. And you could afford to do something nice for her once in a while.”

“I don’t follow--” the shooter said.

“We are not going together,” Shasta interrupted, glaring at the bike.

“I don’t see what the fuss is about,” the AI said.

“They just threatened to shoot me!” he said shrilly. “And you!”

“But they didn’t.”

“They’ll betray us in at the first chance!”

“Thieves generally avoid the authorities, actually,” it countered. “And a wealthy young woman who turns to armed robbery for a ride to the capital probably has bigger concerns than turning on her only ally.”

“Young woman?” Shasta asked.

“What makes you think I’m wealthy?” the shooter demanded.

“Ma’am, only speeders and the wealthy know their way around a motorcycle as well as you, and if you were a speeder you wouldn’t need to steal a motorcycle.” The girl and Shasta stared at each other in silence. Shasta’s mind felt like it was stuck in tar. Why was the AI so reasonable? Of course she would betray them… but of course she wouldn’t, that wouldn’t make sense either. “Shasta, if you truly feel that this is a bad idea-- and have a better proposal-- I defer to you.” The AI paused, letting its words hang in the air.

Shasta pretended to think, pursing his lips. But he didn’t have any better idea, and eventually he had to admit defeat. “Fine. She can come with us. At least for tonight. But I at least want to know your name,” he said, the last part addressed to the shooter with a jerk of his chin.

“And I want my gun,” she said. He hesitated. You won’t shoot. It’s not as easy as it seems. He believed that, at least. He passed the pistol to her. She tucked it into the folds around her waist. “My name is Aravis.”

“My name’s Shasta,” he said. “And you’re in my seat.”

“I saw how you drive,” she said. “I don’t want to end up a smear on the canyon wall.”

“The boy drives,” the AI cut in. “Not that I doubt your driving, ma’am, or prefer his.” Shasta’s smirk disappeared as fast as it had appeared. It was a barbed victory.

Aravis seemed about to protest, but then thought better of it and scooted back on the seat, allowing room for Shasta to sit. “And how should I address you, Mr. Not-a-Decent-Imperial-AI?” she asked, ignoring Shasta as he squeezed in front of her.

“My serial code is br33wf8hnii,” the AI said. It had never occurred to Shasta to ask this, which only soured his mood further.

“Br33--” Aravis began to repeat.

“Bree it is,” Shasta interrupted, tapping his finger against the nav screen. The girl’s bony knees brushed his hips, and he felt he’d already heard enough of her haughty voice to last a lifetime. “In the interest of not spending the whole night here, let’s get going, why don’t we?” Bree’s engine purred to life.

“Please do,” she said. Bree’s nav screen lit with the map of the road once more. Shasta maneuvered around the blockage and shot off into the night.

Tagged: @lasaraleen

[philsservice]

Are you wondering what causes car ac to stop working?  Call Phil's Service and schedule an auto AC service before the hot days of summer have arrived.

[lovemesomesurveys]

do you have a lot of barbecues during the summer? My dad used to all the time when I was a kid, but he’s not into it anymore for some reason. My fam just uses this little kitchen Cuisinart Griddler and a cast iron skillet for stuff like burgers and steaks. Oh, and my dad has a hot dog broiler/roller thing lol.  do you plan on going to the movies soon? to see what? My mom and I want to see It Chapter 2 again. do you tie your shoes or just tuck in the laces? I tie them. What is one present you got for your last birthday? A Nintendo Switch with a couple games and a case, some Adidas clothes/shoes/socks/fanny pack/mini backpack, and a weekend getaway.  What is one thing that you took to show and tell as a kid? I really don’t remember. 

Do you remember losing your first tooth? Yeah. I was eating an apple, ha. In the summer would u rather have the windows down or the AC on in the car? AC for sure. Having the windows down does nothing for me cause the air blowing in is just hot air. are you itchy anywhere right now? No. Have you ever thrown anything at a moving car? Uh, no. Have you ever been addicted to a game? What game? I go through spurts where I’m obsessed with The Sims. What song makes you laugh when you hear it? Uhh. do you believe in “the one”? I actually thought I found a potential “one” in Ty. Or at least something serious and long-term. Silly me.  Do you like maple cookies? I’ve never had one, but I’ve seen them and they look/sound delicious. I love maple donuts, so I imagine I’d love a maple cookie. Have you ever volunteered anywhere? where? Yeah, various places. are you afraid to pop a balloon? I do get a little nervous in anticipation of the POP! Name one person you’d like to see this month. I’ll be seeing one of my aunts that I’m close to soon. How high do you put the volume while using headphones? When listening to ASMR I turn it up all the way, but something else maybe half way or so. When was the last time you laughed when you shouldn’t have? I don’t know. What would be the worst possible way to be woken up? I don’t enjoy being woken up ever so if someone does they better have a good reason and some coffee, ha. which was better: lion king 1 or lion king 2? Lion King 1. Do any of your grandparents have a tattoo? No. When was the last time you had a bubble bath? Not since I was a kid. have you ever had a pet rock? No. Do you believe in marriage? I just can’t see myself ever getting married. What word do you say way too much? I know what phrase I say too much, “I don’t know.” What do you usually buy when you go to the corner store? Like a Quick Mar/gas station/liquor store type store? I just get a drink, like a Starbucks Doubleshot. I used to get chips all the time, too. are you currently cold? No. It actually feels nice right now, which is shocking. It looks overcast out right now and it’s only 72 F, which is a big drop in temp for us Californians who have been experiencing upper 90s and triple digit temps.  do you believe that your pets feel love towards you? Yes. what is a creative way to paint your nails? I wouldn’t know, I suck at painting them just the basic way. I tried dabbling in nail art stuff a few years ago, but I sucked. does your computer have built in speakers or do you have some plugged in? They’re built in. bubbles or sidewalk chalk? I liked playing with chalk as a kid. What do you use to tell time when your gone out somewhere? My phone. what colour is your alarm clock? I use my phone, which is coral. what brand is your TV? Insignia.  are you proud of your body? Nooope. Watermelon or Cherries? Watermelon. What is your all time favourite song? I have too many, I couldn’t pick just one. Have you ever had a crush on a fictional character? On TV shows and movies. Eric Northman, playing by Alexander Skarsgard, for example. That character first introduced me to Alex. What is the band you’ve listened to most lately? I don’t think there’s been one in particular. how much effort do you put into how you look? Not much at all. :/ Favourite brand of cookies? Oreos and Keeblers. what would you do if you found out your mother had killed someone? Wowwwww. That would be.....wow. I don’t even know. If you could meet anyone who lived before your time, who would it be? Lucille Ball. Do you pay for your own things? Some things, not everything.  Have you ever been rushed to the hospital in an ambulance? Yes. Do you think the world is getting worse every year? I think we’re just more aware. Have you ever had a reoccurring dream? Yes, a few. Have you ever gone a day without eating? Yeah. I’ve gone days. How do YOU believe the world & universe started? I believe in God and that He created the world and everything in it. What was the topic of the last essay you wrote? I don’t remember. That was almost 5 years ago. how old were you when you discovered what sex was? I remember making my Barbies do what I thought sex was haha.  Do you wish you had smaller feet? No, they’re already pretty small. Have you ever stuck gum under a desk/chair? EW NO. I hate when people do that, it’s SO disgusting. Throw it away it’s really not that hard. When shopping at a grocery store, do you return your cart or just leave it? I don’t use a cart. What is one thing you’d never want your parents to find out? They don’t know I’ve smoked weed a few times. Doesn’t sound like a big deal to most, but I don’t know I just haven’t told them.  Who is the best cook in your house? My parents and brother are all good cooks. They each have their specialties.  When you were little, did you like Dr. Suess books? Yeah. Do you have a ‘prized possession’? My laptop. Have you ever felt trapped in a relationship? I’ve felt that way in some friendships. How many dryer sheets do you put in a load of laundry? I don’t do the laundry. Recommend a good book to me. I don’t know what you like. What would you consider unforgivable? Someone murdering someone I love.  When you hear someone talking about lice, does your head start itching? Haha yeah. What would be a clever name for a giraffe? Lol I named my giraffe stuffed animals with G names. Like my 4ft giraffe I have is named Gigi, like GG for “giant giraffe.” lol. She’s giant in comparison to the other stuffed animals.  Are there any items of jewelry you never/rarely take off? No. What’s something you like to do while you’re drunk? I don’t drink anymore. Do you think you deserve more than what you have? I don’t think I deserve anything. Would you rather give your food to a homeless shelter or money to charity? Why not both. Kiss on the neck or kiss on the cheek? Depends who the kiss is coming from.  True or False: you this read wrong True. Don’t you hate when you hit your tooth on your cup trying to get a drink? Yes, or a utensil. I do that forks a lot for some reason. Which store would you choose to max out a credit card? I don’t want to max out any credit cards. I gotta pay it back, you know. Who has the loudest mouth in your house? My dog? lol. Can you understand shakespear english? Kinda, but I didn’t really enjoy Shakespeare, so I didn’t put a lot of effort into it. Do you usually buy or make your Halloween costumes? I’ve done both. Do you like eating out at restaurants? Not anymore, really. I like getting takeout to just eat at home. What was your least favorite year of your life so far? These past few years. What is the most ridiculous law you ever heard about? Hmm. I’ve read articles in the past about weird laws each state has, but I can’t think of an example right now. Is your name common? Yeah.  If you could have any pet in the world, illegal or not, what would you get? I love having a dog. Do you like fried bologna? I’ve never had it fried, but I love bologna sandwiches.  How do you act around people you dislike? I’d act civil, but I would probably be short and just keep my distance, not interacting unless I needed to. Do you like decorating rooms or would you rather have someone else do it? Someone else. I’m not creative enough. Have you ever been to Canada? No, but I’d love to go. have you spent money on a game online? Yeah. I’ve bought a few game apps and Sims games. Are you good at making small talk? Nopeee. Has someone ever taken something from you that you could never replace? Yes.  Are you a fan of tattoos? I mean, sure. Are you bikini ready? I don’t wear bikinis.  What do you dislike the most about being the gender that you are? Menstrual cycles were a bitch, but I don’t get them anymore.

[caiminnent]

asscreedevents, day #1: these wicked times [gen shaundes, rated T]

Prompt: Favourite In-Game Detail(s) or Canonverse

Summary: In which they have a smoke and a heart-to-heart. [Set in AC III timeline.]

1.8k || Also on AO3.

He wouldn’t have expected it in a million years, but he wishes he were back at the warehouse.

It’s not even that he misses the damn place. Sure, it was nice to have a real bed and a proper bathroom—things he’s been bitterly missing these past months—but it reminded him way too much of his floor in Abstergo: the practical, impersonal design, the line of cameras covering every inch, the locked rooms only he couldn’t access. Hell, when Vidic turned up and they had to haul ass, he’d been glad to leave the hellhole behind.

At least he had some free roam back there, though. He couldn’t walk around without getting caught in tape, but he could walk around when his brain was filled with static and his muscles with nervous energy. He didn’t have privacy, but he had space.

Here, he has neither.

He turns on his side, careful not to make the cot creak too much. If he stares at the cracks on the ceiling any longer, he’s going to scream.

Not that there’s anything else to stare at. Wherever the hell they are, there isn’t even a decent streetlamp or the occasional passing car out there, just the moon as a light source. He can barely make out Shaun’s one leg and shoe on the other side of the balcony door—and that’s mostly because he knows they’re there. He doubts Shaun can see anything out there, either, for all that he’s “keeping watch”.

Then again, it should still beat staying cooped up in here.

He pushes himself up and shoves his feet back into his shoes, not bothering with the laces. Wraps the blanket around himself as well before stepping out; his hoodie isn’t nearly thick enough for the winter weather.

Just as expected, Shaun is sitting with his back to the wall, huddled in that long coat of his, trying—and failing—to hide a cigarette behind his raised knee. The illustrious Shaun Hastings, everyone: historian, analyst, master strategist, rebellious teenager.

Shaun takes a deep drag, his eyes fixed on the dark sky and darker ground. On the exhale, he turns—and jumps when he notices him in the doorway. “You have got to stop creeping up on me, Desmond,” he grumbles, patting away the scatter of ash on his pants.

“Sorry,” he offers half-heartedly. “Habit. Mind if I join you?”

Shaun scoots over without a word. Desmond carefully lowers himself next to him and leans on the wall, suppressing a shiver when chill seeps through his clothes. He would’ve expected December in Rome to be more forgiving than in New York; the air stings his nose and freezes his lungs just the same when he inhales deeply.

“I thought Rebecca hid your pack,” he says, just to break the silence.

“She did,” Shaun confirms, smug as you please. He cuts a glance at him. “Not planning to snitch on me, are you?”

“Not if I get to bum one.”

He’s just joking—kind of—but the sideways glare Shaun sends him is pure disapproval. He hadn’t been on the receiving end of this in a while. Hadn’t missed it, either. “No. I’m not corrupting you.”

Yeah. All the shit he’s done—in and out of the Animus, now—and smoking is what’s going to corrupt him.

He shoves his hands deep in his pockets and tilts his head up, leaning heavier on the wall. They can see the stars from here. He was starting to forget what those looked like.

Shaun blows the smoke over his other shoulder, through the railings. “Since when do you smoke anyway?”

He shrugs. “I don’t. I mean—not regularly. Lighting up one helps sometimes.”

He shouldn’t have said that.

Shaun half-turns, watching him—appraising him—with that careful concern lining his face. It’s—he hates that look. That hesitant affection. The muted worry. As if Shaun can see right through him and is afraid for whatever he finds in there.

“I suppose it might,” is all Shaun ends up muttering. His clenched stomach relaxes, just a little.

They sit in silence; Shaun watching the perimeter with the occasional concerned look thrown his way, him just staring around for the most part. The buzzing in his head didn’t go away, not really, but it’s better, somewhat. Bearable. Fresh air helped a little.

Shaun finishes his cigarette, putting it out on the marble and sweeping it off the balcony. Desmond has the distinct feeling that his time is up. Should’ve feigned being sleepy and left when he had the chance.

Even the idea of going back in and staring at the ceiling some more makes his stomach turn, though.

Shaun folds his arms over his chest, hiding his hands and glances over again. Here it comes. “How are you holding up?”

How is he holding up? The way he always does, probably; he tries not to think too much about it. It’s not like he has a choice; they don’t exactly have time for a mental breakdown with the end of the world on their schedule.

He shrugs again, for lack of a better response.

“I just thought—after today, you might… want to talk.”

To talk.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” he says honestly. “We got Dad back. We have the Apple. All’s well that ends well, right?”

“Not necessarily.”

Shaun shifts closer, just a warm pressure on his side, the light sting of smoke in his nose when he closes his eyes and breathes in.

“It’s okay to not be all right with what happened today,” Shaun says. What you did, he carefully doesn’t say. So this is going to be one of those things they will talk around forever. “Taking lives… It’s never easy, no matter the reason.”

He looks down at himself. Looks at the swell of his fists in his pockets, the specks of red and grey all over the white of his hoodie that he can’t stop seeing.

“I think I got used to that part,” he confesses. God, it sounds even worse out loud. “That’s not what haunts me.”

In his periphery, Shaun is watching him—expectantly, as far as he can tell; not with judgment. He doesn’t have it in himself to look back and make sure.

“What haunts me,” he continues, swallowing through the sudden dryness of his throat. “Those people had loved ones, too, Shaun. Families, maybe even children. I mean, I got my father back, but what about the kids whose fathers won’t be coming home—all because of me?”

“Not all because of you—”

“No, I know,” he doesn’t snap, not exactly, but it’s something in that range. He rubs at his face and takes a deep breath to calm his racing heart, wetting his lips. “They had Dad, they forced my hand, we didn’t have time for clean and careful, I know all that—but that doesn’t change anything. Does it? It’s still lives I took. It’s still blood on my hands. There’s nothing I can do to change that.”

Shaun is silent. Desmond has no idea what that means—is Shaun trying to think of something to say? Does he regret having asked in the first place, now that he actually got an answer? Should Desmond have kept his big mouth shut for a change?

Yeah, he really should have. Fuck.

He’s trying to think of a way to change the subject when something falls on his lap. A pack of cigarettes.

Shaun is digging into his pockets. “Take it before I change my mind,” he grumbles in answer to his look. “If Bill catches us, it was your idea.”

He chuckles despite himself, flicking the top open. It's almost full, with two missing. Three now. “You'd throw me under the bus like that?”

“If it meant dodging your father’s ire? In a heartbeat.” Shaun finally comes up with the lighter, along with another pack and a handful of crumpled paper. He shoves the rest back and reaches to help start Desmond’s cigarette. “He already doesn't approve of me for you; I'd rather not be the bad influence on top of that.”

“I’ve dated worse; he’ll come around.”

He takes another drag, the first deep one—and chokes.

“Th’ fuck is this?” he manages to get out between coughing, his mouth full of grit by how it tastes. He had never put something so terrible in his mouth, what the hell.

Shaun grins, pocketing the pack and the lighter. “The cheapest I could find in this part of the city. Saving the world doesn’t pay well, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“The food was a dead giveaway,” he croaks, then tries to clear his throat. He’s not touching Shaun’s cigarettes ever again, hell. “I ate better as a broke bartender in New York, you know.”

“Don’t hesitate to pitch in yourself.”

The cigarette stops tasting that bad after a couple more drags. Still shit, though.

It takes the entire smoke for the buzzing in his mind to finally start quieting down. He’s kind of numbed down, cold in a distant way wherever the blanket isn’t covering. It’s probably a good idea to try to sleep again while it feels like he might actually be able to.

It will take a second wind to get on his feet, though. It’s been rough, these past days and he’s really feeling it now, in the way all his muscles are throbbing vaguely. He’s half ready to doze off where he’s sitting if it means he won’t have to move again.

Beside him, Shaun sighs deeply. “It gets easier.”

He realizes that the weight in the pit of his stomach had disappeared, now that it’s back again. He had thought—hoped—that that conversation was over.

“It doesn’t get easy,” Shaun explains to the open air. “But it does get easier, to live with yourself. Just so you know.

He doesn’t want to speak up—doesn’t even know what he could say anyway—so he nods. Shaun’s hand finds his leg and squeezes.

“My watch duty should be about over,” Shaun says without checking his watch. “It’s Rebecca’s turn, if you wanted to stay up and chat.”

He could probably use the distraction. “Maybe tomorrow," he says anyway. "Been a long day.”

“That it has.”

Shaun pushes himself up with too much trouble, shaking and stretching out his locked joints with a grunt. Once satisfied, he turns and extends a hand to him. “Come on up. We need to leave early in the morning.”

He’s still not exactly dying to move, but he takes Shaun’s hand and pulls himself up on shaky legs. They’re both covered in dust that clings deeper to the fabric the more they try to slap it away.

“This is bloody stupid,” Shaun practically announces at last, frowning at the state of his coat. At least Shaun won’t have to sleep in it. “I’m heading in; I can’t deal with this right now.”

“I’ll be a minute,” he replies. Shaun folds the coat over his arm and steps in.

He shakes out the blanket one last time, kicks away the proof of their delinquency and follows.

[nihil-goddess]

Time to Cool Off

When you hop in your car in the summer, there is nothing you want more than for the cold air to start blowing. It would be tragic if your AC gave out on you. Sometimes driving with your windows rolled down just does not cut it and you need that ice-cold AC blowing in your face. I worked for years as a landscaper in Nevada. During the summers, I would be completely drenched in sweat when it was time to get off work. Hopping into my truck and cranking the AC felt amazing.

Sadly, your AC is just like anything else on your car and it can fail on you. Sometimes you get lucky and this happens to you in the winter. Then you can put off getting it fixed for a little bit. If it quits on you when it’s hot though, odds are that you will want it fixed as soon as possible. AC systems are very difficult to work on at home. The main reason for this being that your AC system is full of a refrigerant that is illegal to release to the atmosphere. It must be sucked out of the system using a machine that can store the coolant in a tank. AC systems can also be daunting to work on as many people do not understand how they work.

Major AC Components

Your AC has a few major components that are crucial to the way that it operates. We found a great video to explain how this works. Check this out to get a basic idea.

Here is a list of the major components and their basic functions:

Condenser- Transfers heat from inside of the vehicle to the outside.

Compressor- Pumps the refrigerant throughout the system

Evaporator- What makes the air cold

Dryer- Removes moisture from AC System

 Even with a basic understanding of how your AC system works, it is still difficult to work on it yourself. The main reason being the lack of proper equipment needed. It is usually recommended that you take your vehicle in to a trained professional to have them perform the necessary work on it.

A/C Recharge

If your AC is not working like it once did, an AC recharge is an option. This means to put extra refrigerant back into the AC system. Be aware, that this is not a fix to your problem. If your vehicle is low on refrigerant, that means that there is a leak somewhere. Your AC system is completely airtight and should not loose refrigerant. This leak could be very slow and by doing an occasional recharge, you can maintain a cold-blowing AC for a long time before repairs are needed.

AC recharges can be done both at home and at a shop. Many different stores sell bottles with the fittings needed, with gauges installed, so that anyone can recharge their own AC. These will come with instructions that are simple to follow. To do so you only need to connect the hoses to the low side of your AC system. Turn your AC on and you will be able to monitor on the gauge the pressure inside of your AC system. You can add refrigerant by pulling the trigger. Continue to do this until you are close to 40psi but be careful not to overcharge the system. After doing so, you should have noticeably colder AC.

Many shops will also do this for you. They have much larger machines for doing so. Generally, they will remove all of the refrigerant from your system and then pump it back in to the appropriate level. Whether you decide to do it yourself or have a mechanic do it for you, is totally up to you.

A/C Repair

Oftentimes, your AC system will need more than just a recharge. Different components can fail or start to leak. When things like this happen, it is generally better to leave this to a trained professional who has the proper equipment. If your AC compressor fails, this is really not a hard component to remove and replace. The difficult part of this is draining the AC system so that the refrigerant isn’t released into the air. It is also important that the right amount of oil is placed back into the system afterwards.

So, unless you have the proper equipment or know someone who does, it is best to leave AC repairs to the professionals. Find a nearby mechanic who you can trust and take your AC problems to him.

Proper Refrigerant

The AC systems in our cars have evolved a lot over the years. With improvements in technology to increase the performance and comfort of our AC’s and also with improvements to make them more environmentally friendly, your AC system is a lot more advanced than most people realize. One thing that has changed majorly over time is the refrigerant used in cars.

Originally, a refrigerant known as R-12 Freon was used. This worked the same as our modern-day refrigerant but with one major difference. The R-12 refrigerant was terrible for the environment and actually depleted the ozone layer. In 1994 it was officially outlawed. Today, R-134a Freon is used in cars. This performs the same function but is much safer. Many shops will convert your older cars R-12 AC system into an R-134a system.

Good to Know

I hope you got something out of reading this article. If you are driving around this summer and your AC isn’t working like you want, you hopefully will have an idea what’s wrong now. Your car might only need a simple recharge to get it blowing ice-cold again. You might be in need of some new parts as well. Whatever your car is in need of, I hope you now know what to do when this happens. 

When it comes to AC systems, it is almost always best to take it in to a trained professional who knows how to properly deal with the refrigerant. They can keep your AC blowing cold and our planet’s atmosphere clean.

Please see our article entitled “Engine Tune-up”.

[socoolaircon]

Is Your Aircon Not Cold? Here Are Some Air Conditioning Tips

No matter what the weather is, we always need to keep our homes and offices cool. Enter the air conditioner, which has long been seen as a home staple for keeping your room or office cool and comfortable. However, there are times when this appliance does not work at its best-sometimes it simply aircon not cold down due to electrical issues, and sometimes the power goes out altogether! In these moments, it's time to reach out to a professional in order to get help with your aircon.

What is Air Conditioning?

Air conditioning is a system or a device which uses air to keep buildings, rooms and small areas cool. It is typically used in order to regulate the indoor climate. Air conditioning is the system of cooling and dehumidifying buildings by using outdoor or indoor fresh air.

Why Does My AC Not Work?

One of the reasons is humidity. The AC system will work when the relative humidity is below 50%. It can be difficult to control, so it is best to wait until you get home, turn the AC on, place the fan on low, and let it cool down. If your aircon not cold properly, here are some things you can do to make it cooler. Check the filter before your unit blows hot air. Make sure there is no furniture blocking the vents and that windows and doors are closed. If your thermostat is set too high, decrease the setting. There could be a number of reasons why your AC isn't working. The most common is that there's not enough water in the system. This can be caused by a cracked pipe, a blocked drain, an electrical issue, or something deeper like mold. But you'll want to take your AC apart and check to see if it just needs a good cleaning and maybe a little bit of repair work.

How Does AC Work?

Cooling down your house with an AC doesn't just happen overnight. There's a very specific process involved in the air conditioning system. First, the refrigerant is cooled to -30°F (-34°C), and then it is pumped through a set of pipes that supply the refrigerant to the indoor unit, where it is cooled again before being sent back to the compressor.

Daily Air Conditioning Maintenance

Air conditioners are a blessing, but they can also be a curse. It's important to maintain your AC unit regularly, which will help extend its lifespan and keep it functioning at its best. Here are some helpful tips on how to keep your system healthy! Did you know that your AC needs to be serviced 2-3 times a year? This means that you need to check the system every month and clean it out. Many people don't know about this, so they just let it get dirty and uncomfortable.

Alternative Thermoelectric Coolers

Air conditioning units are expensive to maintain, so an alternative choice is to use an electric air conditioner. These models are cheaper than the traditional ones and conserve energy too. However, you'll need to install one if you're not using electric ducting. The alternative thermoelectric cooler works differently to air conditioners. Instead of using substances like water or Freon to produce cool air, it uses the Earth's natural energy. These coolers are more environmentally friendly. They are also more efficient because they use far less electricity to produce the same effect as air conditioners do.

In conclusion

First of all, make sure you have a good supply of clean water around your car. If you use tap water, make sure it is filtered or otherwise purified. Another thing to check is that your air conditioning system has been properly maintained and doesn't need any repairs.

[eddiekasp]

Must Be a Better Word- Ch14

Love. There must be A better word, -Adam Gillon

Hello I have returned with more angst because Emilee likes suffering. I hope you guys enjoy :^) Also on ao3!

The morning air shoved at Eddie’s hair and clothes as he quickly got into the front seat of his car, shivering slightly before turning on the AC and the radio. It had become weird to sit in any car, let alone his own or Richie’s, without some sort of background music. A quiet when driving, especially when alone in the car, was nearly suffocating. The music was a release for thoughts.

The last thing Eddie needed right now was to be alone with his thoughts after staying with them until nearly three in the morning the previous night, intervals of pacing and breath control and nail biting keeping him up until the anvils pulling his eyelids down finally gave him a release. He wanted to feel okay so that it wasn’t weird when he picked up Richie.

The roads to Richie’s house had been driven on so much by Eddie’s car that he could nearly drive there without even looking. Driving there became second nature to Eddie, liking tying his shoelaces or reaching into his back pocket for his inhaler when he felt an attack coming on. By the time he arrived at Richie’s he had barely noticed the seconds passing.

He braced himself to open the door again, sliding his gloves back on. His mother told him she wouldn’t let him out had he not put them on, but now he was kinda glad he agreed to take them. Again, he felt the push of the cold air, reddening the tips of his ears and nose momentarily before he jogged up Richie’s front lawn and to his door. His (gloved) finger pressed the doorbell.

He prayed Richie’s parents wouldn’t open the door.

A minute passed and Eddie rang again, nearly at the exact time he heard the click of the door opening. Richie stood in the doorway, his glasses set straight on his nose but not hiding the bags under his eyes. He was still in his pajamas although it was nearly noon, his Red Hot Chili Peppers t-shirt meeting the waistband of his grey and white flannel pants.

He looked at Eddie nervously, his hand subconsciously scratching the back of his head before moving to awkwardly scratch his nose as well. He couldn’t keep his hands still. For the first time, he declined to speak first, anticipating that his voice would crack with the confusion of how to start.

Eddie’s gaze softened as he watched the boy continue to pick at the split ends of the hair that now grew a bit past his ear in long curls. Normally Eddie would tell him to stop it, maybe put his own hand through his hair instead to calm him down, but Eddie just stood in the doorway.

“Rich…” Eddie began slowly, eyes quickly moving from Richie’s eyes to his lips where he had began to bite the peeling skin, the beginnings of drawing blood. “Do you wanna come hang out? We could drive a bit. You should get out of your house.”

Richie sighed lightly before drawing a small smile and agreeing to go. He invited Eddie up to his room so he could change and put some shoes on his bare (and probably freezing) feet. Eddie made him take a heavier jacket than he usually did because he always complained that Richie would get cold. He complied, not feeling much like arguing about something trivial.

Richie sat in the passenger's seat of the car, and Eddie was glad to see his pale hand reach forward to turn on the music. He thought he’d die if he had to sit in silence with Richie right now, who looked as though he hadn’t slept the whole night. Eddie stole quick glances at Richie through the corner of his eye as he drove through the back streets of Derry, trying to get far away and maybe see some scenery. Richie looked out the window, head slightly bobbing up and down to the mixtape he had made Eddie a couple days ago.

Eddie had heard this song many times before Richie even put it on this mixtape, as Richie would blast it in his bedroom or in his car often when they hung out. He knew the words well at this point, and started to sing along. He wasn’t much of a singer by any means-- his voice was soft and breathy but on pitch, to give him credit. Better than Richie’s for sure, which could nearly just be classified as shouting.

When Richie heard Eddie singing, he slowly turned his head to face his boyfriend, smiling. “Do you like the mixtape?”

“Of course,” Eddie replied, allowing himself to smile a bit too, “You know I always like the mixtapes you make for me.” It was true. Honestly, even if certain Grunge Rock bands that Richie listened to weren’t his favorite, he definitely liked a lot of the stuff Richie put on for him to listen to. Plus, how could he dislike something Richie made especially for him, something that was often garnished with hearts and cheesy titles. Of course he loved them; he kept every one.

This really made Richie smile as he began to sing along to the song. After that one ended, they sang along to the next. They were having fun. It felt normal.

Finally they drove past a little look out spot where there was parking. It was cloudy and definitely too cold to sit by the pond, but they got out anyways. Richie’s hands quickly began to turn pink from lack of gloves (Eddie made sure to rub it in). Eddie offered to give him one glove so at least one hand could be warm.

“No way, Jose. You keep them.” Richie said swiftly. “Although, if you wanna hold one of my hands that might keep it warm.” Eddie sighed at how cheesy he was, but didn’t mind taking his hand at all. Richie slid the other hand under his butt where he was sitting, saying that it’d keep it warm too. Eddie was glad Richie seemed to be feeling a bit better.

They sat quietly a little longer, Richie allowing his head to rest on Eddie’s shoulder, tilting his glasses a bit. He bounced his leg in place, so everything felt familiar.

Eddie sighed and finally decided to speak. “What happened last night, babe?” He hoped him being sweet would lessen the blow.

Richie’s face darkened and he lifted his head from Eddie’s small shoulder. He turned his head and looked Eddie straight in the eye, maybe for the first time that day. He looked angry, something that Eddie rarely saw when it was just him and Richie. Usually they had little reason to be angry, unless maybe Richie was shit talking a teacher or getting competitive while playing Pokemon.

“You’re an asshole. You only took me out to ask me about it again. I thought it was clear that I didn’t wanna fucking talk about it, Eddie.”

Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed as his eyes opened wider. For perhaps the tenth time in the last 24 hours, he didn’t know how to respond. He sat and stared up at Richie, who had unlinked their hands and stood up from the bench.

“If this is the only reason we’re here, then I’m leaving. I want you to drive me home.”

“Richie, c'mon…” Eddie began desperately. He had prayed it would have gone any way but this. “You know I’m only asking this because I wanna help--”

“Well then here you go. My mom is an booze hound who barely remembers her own name and spends more time on her knees over the toilet than she does standing up, and my dad is a stranger who probably barely remembers my name. That’s pretty much it, Eds, and I think you got most of that already. It fucking sucks, but I deal. I just… didn’t want you to see that.”

“Why? Why won’t you tell me things? Don’t you trust me?” Eddie felt himself getting angry too, and he knew it was bad because Richie, really, hadn’t done much wrong.

“No! It’s not that I don’t trust you.. It’s just hard for me to talk about, okay? I didn’t want you to judge me, and I like hanging out with you because it’s like… a way for me to get away from this. Bringing up my depressing home life isn’t the biggest turn on or anything.” Richie looked down, clasping and unclasping his hands. “When we hang out, I just want it to be fun. I don’t wanna talk about this stuff.”

“Do you really think I’d judge you for that, dumbass? We are dating, aren’t we? That means it’s more than just having fun. I want you to trust me and to tell me when you’re sad, because dating means we go through stuff together.”

“I told you already, it’s hard for me to say this stuff! In two years I’ll go to college and I won’t have to deal with them anymore, so it’s whatever. Can we fucking let this go please?”

Eddie felt hot tears attempting to come and he lowered his head, allowing it. Richie felt horrible, but he couldn’t control himself. “Pushing back how you feel isn’t good for your health… I just wanna be there for you and help you, Richie.” Eddie spoke softly, wiping his eyes with the arm of his heavy jacket.

“You can help me by taking me home.”

“I cannot fucking believe you right now. I tell you everything and you won’t even let me be there for you.” Eddie spat, raising his head to look at Richie who recoiled a bit.

“And I cannot believe you’re making me the bad guy right now. Please drive me home, I don’t wanna be here anymore.”

“Fine,” Eddie said, nose clogged, and they got in the car. “I can’t believe our first fight is about how much I care about you,” Eddie said after driving quietly. Richie chuckled, sniffled, and went back to silence. Eddie didn’t come to Richie’s house the next morning.

--

That week neither Richie nor Eddie could think about school work or going out or even eating. They sat separated in class, and Eddie even asked to work with another girl during a lab in Physics a couple days later. Richie went to the bathroom to stop himself from tearing up in class.

Driving to and from was arguably the worst part. Eddie’s mom could drive Eddie to school if Richie didn’t, but she took the car on week days to go to her job at the grocery store. Bill, Mike and Ben had sports after school, Beverly didn’t drive, and Stan’s house was too out of the way. Eddie refused to take the bus after an incident in the third grade in which some girl threw up in the seat in front of him, so without Richie to drive him home his only option was to bike. Both boys found this part of the day perhaps the most depressing, besides going to bed alone without even a phone call to compensate.

Richie went to sit in the library during lunch instead of at their usual table in the back corner of the cafeteria. Everyone noticed his absence and asked where the loud mouth had gone off to, mostly looking at Eddie for an answer since, typically, the two were inseparable. After Eddie continued to keep his head down at the questions, slowly chewing a tasteless salad his mother had packed for him, Stan got up to look for him.

Richie’s hands searched for a way to distract themselves, finally settling on ripping pieces of paper from his English notebook out and shredding them into tiny pieces, creating what looked like a snow-capped mountain on the table in front of him. He didn’t even bother to put the headphones of his Walkman into his ears.

Richie’s gaze lazily fell on Stan as the other boy pulled the wooden chair across from Richie out and sat down, folding his hands in front of him and carrying a serious face.

“Hey, Stanley the Manley, what’s crackin’?” Richie attempted to speak casually, but his monotone voice exposed how he was actually feeling.

“You tell me,” Stan replied coolly, “You’ve been in a depression the last couple days and it seems Eddie’s caught whatever you have as well.”

Richie sighed and slumped forward, resting his cheek in the palm of his hand and not bothering to adjust his frames. “Ugh,” he managed to get out.

“Did you guys get in a fight?”

Richie didn’t want to come to terms that they had had a real fight, since he had proclaimed (loudly) that he would never hurt his Eddie and that the other Loser’s worries and “Be careful, Richie”s were unjustified. He always wanted to seem like a perfect couple, and up until now they never had to put that act on because, more or less, it was the truth.

Richie shifted his face from his palms to the crooks of his arms that rested on the table, his sad relentment into agreement coming out muffled. He raised his head slightly to ask if Stan had talked to him in the last couple days.

“Sorta,’ Stan said slowly, “I asked if he was okay in English and he said he was… he looked really tired though.”

Richie slumped back down again, wondering if he would have preferred to hear Eddie was great or horrible. He knew that, of course, he’d rather him feel great, even if it left him feeling like shit. He wanted Eddie to be happy above all else.

Stan rolled his eyes at Richie, trying so hard not to yell at him to apologize for whatever they did wrong and stop feeling so sorry for himself, but he held back.

“Well, it seems like you’re not mad anymore. It just seems like you’re sad and you miss him. So why don’t you stop being stubborn and go say sorry and then you can make out in the Locker Room during 7th period as usual.”

‘You’re right. I just hope he doesn’t hate me now.”

“I don’t even know what you guys fought about, but he obviously doesn’t hate you. He nearly looks worse than you do right now, and you look really bad.”

Richie frowned at that. He planned to go to Eddie’s straight from school.

--

His car hummed and buckled and came to a stop in front of Eddie’s mail box. He didn’t bother to lock it before his feet padded quickly up his drive way quicker than he anticipated, hastily banging his fists on the wooden door. Before Richie even finished knocking, the door creaked open slowly.

Eddie stood in the doorway, dressed in the same thick jacket and gloves he wore the day he got in the fight with Richie. He looked confused as he stared at Richie.

“Where are you going?” Richie asked the smaller boy, disheartened as he was hoping to have time to pour his whole entire heart out.

“I… was going to your house.” Eddie replied monotonously. He saw Richie’s face change from concern to relief to even letting out a small chuckle, and Eddie allowed himself one as well.

Eddie took a small step off the ledge of the door and looked at Richie again, who took no time wrapping his arms around Eddie and burying his face in his neck. Eddie’s hand found itself in Richie’s hair, comforting both of them.

They found their way up the stairs, hands still glued together, and onto Eddie’s bed where a litany of jumbled sobs of confession and recountings of the past couple of years and I’m sorrys kept coming out of Richie’s mouth, unstopping, like a broken shower nozzle until he had tired himself out and fell asleep with his cheek pressed against the wet spots on the chest of Eddie’s shirt.

Two hours later, Richie woke up, smiled at the other boy who still slept, ordered a pizza, and pulled out the two Game Boys that were in the desk drawer.

[atemusluckygal-fanfiction]

“Vices” PART I: The Village of Sun

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Yu-Gi-Oh!.

*NOTE: THE TUMBLR VERSION DOES NOT HAVE ALL THE FORMATTING--IT BEST READS ON THE FANFICTION VERSION*

CW: strong language, substance abuse, explicit sexual content, sexual assault, suicidal behavior/implications, death/dying, violence, physical abuse, psychological abuse, cult reference, religious fundamentalism

Vices PART I: The Village of Sun by Atemusluckygal

The train jolted on the tracks as it raced down the steep mountainside at unsustainable speeds. Téa threw her hands out to keep her balance. Yami—with an unconscious Weevil Underwood lying limp at his feet—met her eyes and confirmed what he feared to be true: their time was almost up. As soon as he opened his mouth to tell her to jump for it, he was suddenly thrown back against the hard roof as the car whipped through a sharp turn and jerked to the left. Thinking fast, he grabbed the kid by the back of his sweater and chucked him off the car to safe ground as hard as he could.

As he struggled to find his footing again, Téa grabbed his wrist and pulled him up, and they dashed towards the cliff as the car tumbled off the tracks. They leapt for it, but Yami realized too late that he was too far from the edge to make it. The only thing keeping them from following the train car to their demise was Téa's hand catching a small, dry weed branch protruding from the side of the chasm, with Yami dangling by the wrist in her other hand with a five hundred foot plummet beneath his feet.

Téa gritted her teeth as their momentum swung them from side to side, painfully stretching her arm and shoulder. The branch would not be able to sustain the weight of the both of them for long. "Pharaoh!" Téa called down to him over the roar of the high-altitude desert winds. "Are you alright?"

Yami looked back at her, sharp winds tossing his bangs. "Yes, but if we don't think of something, we're both done for!" He tightened his hold on her, and the branch in her other hand began to stretch off the cliff wall. She turned her head to the side, searching the area for a way out. The branch shifted again, making her stomach lurch.

The pharaoh called her attention back to him. "Téa, there's only one way out of this, and we both know it!" He looked her dead in the eye. "You must let me go!"

Téa's eyes widened in shock. "What? Are you crazy?!"

"You can climb up to safety if I'm not weighing you down!"

She shook her head furiously. "No way am I'm letting you go, Pharaoh!"

Yami held firm. "You have to! If you don't, we will both die!"

She tightened her hand tightened on him, despite the strain on her tendons. "I'm not saving myself by letting you die!"

"Don't be foolish, Téa! Go now and save yourself! You're better off without me, I've caused nothing but trouble for you and everyone else!" He turned his head away shamefully. "And Yugi—"

"No!" Téa cut him off sharply, "Don't be ridiculous! Your friends love you and need you, and that includes me and Yugi! I'm not letting you go and that's that! I'll get us out of here, I'll pull us up—"

Wasting no time on warning her, Yami suddenly released her wrist. Her weakening hold was the only thing keeping him suspended now, and she felt as if she were fighting both him and the very force of gravity itself for his life.

"What are you doing you idiot?!" she demanded incredulously.

"If you won't, then I will do it for you!" He looked at her with heart-wrenching finality in his eyes. "Téa… I'm sorry for everything. This is goodbye!"

"NO!" she screamed. "I won't let you!" She glanced back at the branch just as more roots began to loosen and break. "If you go, I go too!"

"Téa, don't—!"

"Look," she jerked her head to her right, "there's a foothold over there that should be able to support you. If you help me, I can swing you onto it, and we will both get out of here! Just grab onto me before I drop you… I can't hold on much longer!"

Yami looked away, looking conflicted but making no move either way. Téa's view of his face blurred from the angry tears growing in her eyes. Her voice was grated with desperation as her hand was about to give out. "Do it now!"

As if her voice were a punishing whip to his back, Yami obeyed, adding security to their tether. Gathering her nerves, Téa swung her shoulder to the right as hard as she could, letting him fall back to gain momentum. With another groan, she threw her shoulder again, trying hard to ignore the immense aching in her arm.

"Just a little harder," she panted. Beads of sweat ran down her forehead and into her eyes, but she blinked them away and ignored the sting. Yami was only one more swing away from being able to reach the small ridge.

"Almost there!" he called as he stretched his arm for the next swing.

Snap!

Yami's hand was only a mere arm's length away from the foothold when it fell away. Téa's support branch came completely loose, and the two began their deadly descent, screaming as they plummeted down the chasm. Their velocity was too great, and there was nothing to catch them but scattered trees and unforgiving solid earth beneath patches of dry grass. The next thing Téa felt was a blow to the back of her head, a few seconds of dull, throbbing pain fading away, and then nothing at all.

Yami gasped as he sat up with a start. It was that same nightmare again—a vision from the past. Guardian Eatos—Rafael's ace monster—skillfully struck the ground with her Celestial Sword, sending a blaze of searing heat towards him, fueled by the vengeful hatred of his sacrificed allies, singeing the flesh from his bones… or at least, that's what it felt like.

Digit by digit, his duel disk counter dropped to zero, 'dinging' as it hit the bottom. Rafael approached Yami, saying something he couldn't hear over the ringing in his ears, but it sounded both boastful and damning at the same time. Rafael stood tall and proudly before him with a satisfied smirk. As much as the pharaoh resented him, he had no strength left to defy him. After all, his soul was about to be taken as penalty for his cruel actions—what good was his pride going to do him now?

A pair of small hands pushed his back out of the Seal's ring just before the harvest, and Yugi…

"No! I won't let this happen to you!"

Sweet little Yugi, the sacrificial lamb, vanished into the neon green light before Yami realized what was happening or could do a thing to stop him. He left Yami with a gentle smile that would never stop haunting him.

It only needs one of us, so I'm letting the Seal take me instead.

The anguished pharaoh screamed for Yugi with a breaking voice as he grasped at his partner's fading spirit form, feeling only empty air where a warm spectral presence should've been. He searched the skies, looking for any way he could somehow chase down the light soul being ripped from his body before it could make its escape.

"Take me as well!" Yami roared furiously at the glowing green emblem in the sky. "Do it! Take my soul too, damn you!"

But the Seal of Orichalcos paid his demands no notice; it only retreated into the clouds storming above him, taking Yugi's soul with it, and leaving the beneficiary of his body on the mesa in Death Valley to collapse under the massive weight of his defeat.

Yami shuddered as he struggled to shake off the nightmare. He flattened his palm over his racing heart, breathing slowly to calm it down. Blinking, he focused his eyes and took in his surroundings. He was in a small canvas tent, with a thick brown wool blanket covering him and lavender incense gently wafting into his nose. Téa, still unconscious, lied beside him. There was a cold compress beneath her head, half-buried by her tangled brown hair. Her facial muscles were slightly tensed.

As much as he would've preferred to let her sleep, Yami was growing too anxious to trust their new territory, and he needed both him and Téa to be ready to flee at a moment's notice. He gently nudged her shoulder.

"Téa?"

She groaned, but did not wake. He tried again. "Téa, wake up."

Moments later, Téa's eyes fluttered open, and she gasped as she sat up. "Whoa!" She grimaced as she touched her head where the cold compress had supported her. "Ow…"

"Are you alright?" Yami asked softly. It made him uneasy to see her in as much pain as she was, though he was nevertheless grateful that she was alive.

"Yeah," she muttered, rubbing her temples to soothe the headache. "I mean, I've definitely felt better, but nothing's broken or anything. What about you?"

The thought to assess himself hadn't occurred to Yami at all since he awoke. Bruises and scrapes here and there, including a slightly swollen lower lip and a deeper scratch over his abdomen—likely from the sharp edges of Millennium Puzzle sometime during the fall. His back and shoulders had taken a blow, as he felt quite sore in his neck and lower back just trying to stay upright. Nothing too serious, to his relief.

"I'm reasonably alright. We both got lucky, it seems."

"Yeah," Téa quietly agreed, observing their surroundings for the first time. "Where are we? Who saved us?"

The pharaoh's eyes narrowed. "I don't know. However, while whoever it was did help us, we shouldn't assume that we are out of danger yet."

She tilted her head. "What makes you say that?"

He looked to the opening of the tent, where a sliver of sunlight sliced through. "Well, for one… no one has come in here since I came to. There's no telling if we are in good company or not." His gaze fell to his knees. "For another… I don't know how much time has passed since our train crashed. It is possible that Dartz and his cohorts have, by this point, figured that we are still alive, and with our souls intact. They already know that they captured the wrong soul, otherwise Dartz wouldn't have sent Weevil after us."

Téa tapped her chin thoughtfully. "So the person who saved us could also possibly be in danger as well."

Pharaoh Yami nodded. His brow lowered with his next thought, "Or, on the other hand, they could be working for Dartz, and are holding us captive. Either way, we'd be wise to stay alert. Don't assume that our 'savior' has the best intentions for us." He put his hand on her knee. "Stay here. I will go look around and see if I can find someone to talk to."

Téa stopped him with her hand on his forearm before he could move. Her bright azure eyes were firm. "You're not leaving me out of this. I'm coming too."

Yami shook his head, but made no move to remove her hand. "You need to stay and rest. It's too dangerous."

Téa scoffed as she released his arm with a sharp jerk. "You always say that."

Surprise briefly crossed his face at her aggression before it fell away. "And you always ignore me."

"And for good reason. You need the help."

Yami looked hard at her. "This isn't a game anymore, Téa. Too many people have been hurt from the actions of Dartz, his vassals, and myself. Including you. I…"—he paused, taking a deep breath to collect himself before he continued—"I've already failed to protect Yugi. I am not going to fail you as well." He patted her hand. "I promise, when the coast is clear, I will come back for you."

"I'm not a helpless damsel, Pharaoh," Téa simmered, folding her arms crossly. "You can't just hide me away and make me wait around, wondering when, or if, you're going to fetch me. That's not how this works. We're a team. We've always been and we always will be."

Yami's fist clenched over the blanket covering his lap. "Téa, please be reasonable. I can very well recognize that you're not helpless. But you are hurt, and this doesn't even touch what harm our enemy could be capable of. It's a wonder that we even survived what we did, but we can't push our luck."

Téa tightened her crossed arms. "You keep saying 'we', but you really only mean me."

"It's for your own good."

She dropped her arms. "Yeah? And since when do you get to decide what is for my own good? For that matter, when was the last time you stopped to consider what was for your own good? In case you've forgotten, you are the only one who can defeat Dartz and save Yugi. You can't afford to blindly throw yourself into risky situations alone. What if you get hurt, or captured? Or… worse?"

The pharaoh opened his mouth to answer, but all he could produce were low stutters. As much as he hated to admit it, she had a fair point.

Her expression softened a bit. "Listen, I'll be fine. Let's go." She rose to her knees.

"Téa," Yami warned, but she waved him off.

"I'm not having this argument again," she replied curtly as she pushed the flaps of the tent open, framing Yami in a burst of sunlight. He acquiesced with a small sigh and followed her, raising a hand to shield his eyes.

Their shelter turned out to be one of several in a small village, isolated in a remote valley in the desert. Several dozen other homes scattered across the plains and lined alongside the bank of the small river dissecting the floor of the valley and stretching infinitely towards the hills. A few resident villagers carried out their outdoor chores and chatted casually with one another, while young children laughed and chased each other along the bank. They hadn't yet noticed Yami and Téa.

"Excuse me?" Téa called timidly. "Can someone please help us?"

An older woman, standing outside her own hut holding a basket of wheat, regarded them with delight. "Oh, they are awake!"

Another elder, a tribally-dressed woman with grey streaks in her long raven hair, hobbled up to them with the assistance of a wooden cane. "You had us worried!"

"Us?" Yami inquired.

"Yeah, where are we?" added Téa.

The elder bowed to them. "Pardon, my name is Myrtle, and you are in our Village of Sun, home of the descendants of the Military Society of Atlantis."

"Atlantis…" Yami echoed under his breath.

"Our fishermen found you by the broken train." She used a wrinkled finger to indicate the river behind them, and in the distance Yami and Téa could make out the fractured train tracks upon the cliff, where the train derailed. "You were both in terrible condition, and I did what I could to heal you. I hope you are not in too much pain."

"So you were the one who took care of us," said Yami, clearly relieved. He and Téa bowed their heads. "We are very grateful. Thank you."

Myrtle graciously reciprocated their gesture. "It is my honor, Chosen Duelist."

Yami's eyes widened at that. "Did you say, 'Chosen Duelist'?"

"But of course, you are what the legend speaks of," Myrtle clarified, "when it tells of a brave warrior who will bring this to an end at last?"

Yami started back anxiously. "Bring what to an end?"

The woman sighed. "This age-old war."

"War…" Téa echoed.

"This war you're referring to," Yami began carefully, "does it, by chance, involve the Seal of Orchicalcos?"

Myrtle gravely met his eyes. "Involve? It has everything to do with the Seal of Orichalcos. It is the enemy of our people. The first time it has struck a living civilization in recorded history was in the city of Atlantis, ten thousand years ago."

Téa and Yami exchanged glances. "Well, that's starting to sound familiar," whispered Téa.

Myrtle continued, her voice weighted by disdain, "Whatever that thing is… there is nothing like it, no way to truly explain what it is. It came from nowhere, only seeking to corrupt and destroy. It enslaved our ancestors, the people of Atlantis, people who lived in paradise! It made them servants for the Seal, and worshippers of the Great Leviathan. It made them addicted to its power and willing to do anything to keep that power. They became greedy, blood-thirsty… evil!"

Yami took a breath too quickly and coughed, holding a hand over his mouth for manners. Téa watched him worriedly. He straightened himself and cleared his throat. "Please excuse me. But, if I may ask, how do you know all this?"

Myrtle's unexpected burst of dissonant laughter was, at best, unnerving. "Oh, I've known this for a long time, dear. Centuries, millennia, it feels like!" She waved her slender arm about for emphasis.

"That doesn't answer my question," he responded doubtingly, picking up on the peculiar change of tone.

"Pharaoh," Téa interrupted them, pointing her finger over Myrtle's left shoulder into the distance. "Look."

Myrtle turned around, and Yami narrowed his eyes on a moving black mass storming towards them through the valley with the hills at its back, about four hundred yards away.

"What is that?" Téa asked nervously.

Murmurs of speculation broke out among the surrounding villagers as more took notice of whatever was approaching them. The murmurs quickly evolved into panic.

"Quick, get inside!" shouted one villager, a middle-aged man ushering his son inside their hut.

"They're coming for us!" yelped a younger woman behind Téa.

"Mommy, what's going on?" a child's curious voice entered Yami's ears, causing him to turn around and watch the little boy being lifted into his mother's arms and carried off. "Where's Daddy?"

Myrtle took Téa's hand in hers. "Come, dear, we must go."

The three of them headed back to the tent, with Myrtle leading Téa while Yami assisted Myrtle to move quickly, with her other hand supported by his shoulder.

"What is happening?" he inquired as he helped her into the tent.

"The soldiers," she responded in a low, frantic whisper. "The Orichalcos Soldiers, they found our village, they've come to take our souls!"

Yami and Téa shared a shocked gasp. "What?!"

Myrtle turned to Yami. "You! You are the Chosen Duelist the scriptures speak of! Please, we need your help!"

Yami stuttered in shock. "There must be a mistake, I can't be the Chosen Duelist!"

Myrtle did not relent. "No, I know it to be true. You are the duelist who wields the power of the great Atlantean dragon, Timaeus! Are you not?"

He hesitated. "I am, but…" he trailed off. The memory of Timaeus abandoning him during his duel with Weevil clouded his mind with doubt.

"He is," Téa asserted on his behalf.

Myrtle nodded, a hopeful smile growing on her wrinkled face. "Then there is no mistake. You can save us."

A chorus of indiscernible cries of alarm rose to the skies. A woman's shriek pierced through the cacophony. "They're coming!"

"No! Noooooooo!"

A high-pitched whir caught Yami's attention instantly. He knew that sound; it made his stomach tighten with dread. It was the sound of a human soul being forced out of its body and absorbed by the Seal for serpent fodder.

"Mommy!" a child cried.

Téa yelped. She leapt forward, reaching for the tent flaps to push them open when she felt herself being violently yanked backwards by the shoulders. Before she could blink, she was lying on her back, looking up at the pharaoh sternly glaring down at her.

"What do you think you're doing?" he admonished her.

She sat up urgently, rubbing the sore spot on her head where it hit the ground. "What do you think I'm doing? Those people need help!"

He shook his head. "You and Myrtle must stay here. I will go."

She stubbornly held her ground. "I don't care what the scriptures say, don't be a hero. You need help."

His jaw tightened. "Not from you."

Téa's mouth dropped open at that. Yami realized what he had said and quickly tried to recant his words. "No, wait, I didn't mean—"

"'Not from you?' What in the hell is that supposed to mean?"

He stammered in weak apology. "Th-that's not what I meant to say, I—"

"I don't give a damn what you 'meant to say', Pharaoh… because despite that, I think you've really said it all!" she fumed, raising her voice over his meager protests. "I already told you, I won't argue on this anymore! There are people in danger right at this very moment, and I can't waste any more time getting your permission to do anything!"

"Téa!" Yami called, but before her name left his mouth, she was out of sight, dashing into the crowd.

"You must go," murmured Myrtle from beside him, making him jump. He almost forgot she was there. "You are the only one who has the power to stop those soldiers. She is strong, but if she takes them on by herself, she will lose her soul."

Yami looked on, torn by his dilemma. If he stayed to protect her, Téa and the villagers would lose their souls. If he went to help, Myrtle would be completely unprotected. "What about you?"

Myrtle put a slender hand on his. "Go, and do not worry about me. Please save my people."

He shut his eyes and bit his lip, hearing very clearly the finality in her tone. He grimaced as his mind recalled Yugi's gentle smile as he faded into the Seal of Orichalcos, willingly surrendering his soul to the Seal of Orichalcos. Eventually, he brought down his chin to nod affirmatively. "Alright. Please, be safe."

Myrtle said nothing, her expression somber and remorseful. It was as if she already knew it would be their final conversation.

The disorder that was ravaging the village was so overwhelmingly chaotic, Yami felt physically winded just by being confronted by it.

Within the square block Yami was standing in, he counted at least half a dozen warriors, towering at over nine feet tall and plated in thick metallic charcoal armor, rampaging the village and ensnaring its people in the trap of their activated Seal to harvest their soul in a burst of green light. Tents and shelters everywhere lied overturned on their sides, abandoned by their inhabitants. Several bodies were splayed on the ground, motionless, while the still-conscious villagers were running hysterically in all directions, one man colliding shoulders with Yami before scurrying past him. A Seal was activated about six yards ahead of him, with the body of a young male no older than Yugi collapsing into the dirt, his pale soulless eyes wide open.

"No!" he screamed, catching the attention of a nearby Orichalcos soldier. It reared its head, revealing the sinister red eyes and glowing neon mark of the Seal on its forehead. It abandoned its prey, a young girl shaking on her feet with her arms drawn over her face in defense, to pursue the pharaoh.

"Leave these people alone!" the pharaoh commanded. He hadn't necessarily expected the soldier to comply, but it didn't respond altogether, only storming wildly at him with its duel disk drawn.

Thinking quickly, Yami activated the duel disk on his left arm in return, and in one swift motion, slipped a single card from the holster on his belt.

I'm sorry for betraying your trust and misusing you. I am not deserving of your power. But I beg of you, for the sake of innocent lives, help me defeat these creatures of evil! Don't fight for me, but fight for them, the descendants of your people!

Taking a deep breath, he slapped the card onto a monster slot. "I call forth the mighty dragon of Atlantis, the Eye of Timaeus!" he summoned at the top of his lungs.

An eruption of light exploded from his duel disk, the mere force causing him to stagger backwards. An enormous dragon, with millions of turquoise scales sparkling in the desert sun, emerged behind him, tall as a city skyscraper. It majestically veered its massive head high above the earth and let forth a thunderous roar that shook the Earth under their feet. Soldiers and villagers alike stopped to behold the sight.

"Is that the legendary dragon?!" gasped an old man nearby.

"Let's try this again," Yami addressed the soldier once more, his back taller now that the dragon towered behind him, "leave, or be incinerated!"

The soldier took a step back, its head angled upwards to gawk at Timaeus.

"Very well, then. Be gone!"

Without needing a command to attack, Timaeus collected energy in its great maw, and fired an ice-blue beam into the center of the soldier's heart with deadly precision. Within seconds, the soldier was set aflame and then reduced to a pile of armor plates scattered over a pile of ash, carried away by the wind.

"The great dragon Timaeus, he's come to save us!" cheered the girl Yami had saved.

Within that time, Timaeus had selected its next target, a soldier caught in its tracks while an old woman, the same elder who first noticed his and Téa's presence, made her getaway as fast as her aged legs could carry her. The powerful dragon laid waste to her pursuer, and quickly moved on to the next.

"Get away from them!" screeched a young female voice behind him. Yami recognized it instantly. He turned around and ran towards the source without looking back.

"Téa!" He called to her as she stood stalwart in defense of a mother and her young child before their destroyed home, the same mother and child he first saw fleeing as the soldiers drew near their village. The soldier had clearly taken advantage of Timaeus's attention spent elsewhere, and took another threatening step towards Téa, the Seal's mark on its head glowing menacingly.

"Leave her alone!" he shouted, but he couldn't quite make it fast enough. As if it were consciously defying him, the soldier raised a massive black gauntlet for a hand and struck the dancer hard across the face with a sickening smack. Téa was knocked off her feet, wincing as she touched her marked, swollen face.

The pharaoh's hands balled into tight fists as he was taken by rage. It moved quickly through his body, pumping liquid fire through his veins. His mind reeled, his heart sprang and his fingertips tingled. He was now sprinting so fast he hardly felt his feet touch the ground.

You will pay dearly for that!

Before the brute knew what was coming, the pharaoh's feet were soaring off the ground as he leapt onto the soldier, clinging onto its shoulders before he managed to bring it down to the ground. The soldier, still off its feet, swung at him. Yami was too quick for its burly fist, but the blade of its duel disk clipped his side, tearing through his shirt and leaving a shallow slit over his ribs. He gritted his teeth against the sting as he covered the wound with his left hand.

"Pharaoh!" Téa cried worriedly. She started to move towards him, but he held up his free hand to stop her.

"Stay back! Take them somewhere safe and leave him to me!"

Her gaze lingered on his other hand, where blood seeped through his fingers. "But, Pharaoh, you're—"

"Téa!" he interrupted her as he released his wound to dodge another swing from his opponent with a swift tuck-and-roll. "This time you must do as I say! Get them out of here now!"

Téa looked back at the mother and child, cowering on the ground behind her desperately clutched in each other's arms, and nodded towards Yami. "Alright! But please be careful!"

Yami tumbled to the ground as another attack missed him. "Doing my best!"

The dancer whipped around and knelt beside the mother, grabbing her by the forearm. "Come with me!"

The woman nodded, holding her boy close to her as she and Téa weaved around the fallen bodies of her neighbors and friends, dodging blasts and blows all around them. Ahead of them was a line of trees guarding the entrance to a vast forest. Téa didn't know what lied within it, but she was ready to take her chances.

"Almost there!" Téa shouted. "If we hurry, we can ma—"

A muscular arm caught her around the neck, yanking her backward and into a strange man's clutches. He had her arms tightly locked against her arched back, the cushioning of her backpack pushing her chest out and her feet off balance. "Hey! Let me go!"

"Where are you going with my prey, little girl?" the man growled into her ear. She tried to twist herself away, but she couldn't shake him off; his build was too sturdy. Before she could yell for the pharaoh, his arm tightened around her throat, strangling his name back into her mouth.

"Stop this!" the woman cried. "Dakotah, let her go!"

"Daddy, please stop!" pled the child meekly, falling to the ground to weep loudly.

The man crept backward, with Téa in tow. "Stupid child, Daddy is gone! Daddy is ridding the world of evil! Daddy is paving the way for a New World, a New Era, a perfect utopia ruled by the Great God Leviathan and his prophet Master Dartz! Daddy is doing this for us, for a better life!"

"Master… Dartz?!" Téa squeaked through her chokehold.

"The Great One is our new supreme ruler, he will cleanse the world of darkness!"

"Stop this Dakotah! This isn't like you, what happened to you?"

"Back off, wretch!" snapped Dakotah. "This girl's soul is mine, and you and that runt are next!"

"How dare you, that is your son!"

Another voice entered the field, dark and venomous and threatening. "Let her go."

The low baritone voice projected above the surrounding chaos with ease without shouting, causing everyone except Téa to turn their heads. Dakotah sneered at the newcomer.

"Ah, the mighty pharaoh has come to rescue his damsel in distress?"

Téa growled weakly, hating the position she was in. After all her efforts to stay on the front line, this was her fate. Again.

Yami took a step towards him, fists clenched and jawline hardened, the tail of his torn jacket flapping in the wind behind him. His hair was mussed, his face was smeared with dirt, and his clothes had new rips and bloodstains. His fierce violet eyes were predatorily fixed on Dakotah with an ensnared Téa struggling to get free.

"Unhand her, or today will be your last day," Yami warned threateningly.

A soft giggle dribbled out of Dakotah's mouth, which quickly progressed to a long shrill of maniacal laughter. His wife, son, and hostage were clearly rattled.

"My last day? My last day? It matters not, for once Master Dartz has your soul, it will be everyone's last day! Ha ha ha! The reaping of souls will commence as the Great God Leviathan awakens and destroys what's left of this rotten world!"

The pharaoh raised a finger to point at Dakotah. "Shut your mouth, cretin, and let Téa go. Now."

Dakotah slackened his arm on Téa's throat, causing her to gasp for air, only to stroke her battered cheek with his hand. "And waste a perfectly beautiful soul to offer our Savior, the great Serpent and his Master? Perhaps, you'd like to offer your own soul in exchange?" Téa winced as Dakotah's hand wandered to her neck.

The pharaoh's eyes narrowed on his target. He took another step towards him, trying with concerted effort to keep his boiling fury in check. "Take your filthy hands off her. This is your last warning." His voice changed again, deeper in pitch and grittier in tone, like gravel in his throat.

Téa turned her head as far as she could to see him, with Dakotah's rough fingers trailing over her chin. "Pharaoh…" she croaked helplessly. She couldn't stand being touched so humiliatingly in front of him, feeling like a helpless plaything. She twitched as she caught a glimpse of Dakotah's hand as it left her face, as a soft green glow covered what she could see of it. A reflection of the Seal of Orichalcos, the mark shining brightly mere centimeters from her eyes. The hand dropped to her chest, and Téa's heart stopped as it rested upon her breast.

"These are nice," Dakotah praised in a lascivious tone that made the hair on her neck stand up. "Tell me, are they just as perky without the support? After I take your soul, I think I'll see for myself."

"Don't touch me, creep!" Téa snarled, but she was powerless to stop him.

Dakotah tightly squeezed her breast, and she grunted in pain. As disturbing as this was, what scared her even more was how it was provoking the pharaoh, remembering that he was still mentally unstable, not to mention already quite incensed. She had to act fast before it was too late—and she didn't want to find out what 'too late' meant for either of them.

Craning her neck forward, Téa threw back her head with all the force she could manage, and bashed Dakotah square in the nose with her skull. She cringed when she heard the bones crack behind her. Pain shot through her head as she quickly recalled her head injury, hoping it was his nose and not her skull that took the brunt. She blocked it out and managed to struggle free as Dakotah reeled from the assault. She stumbled towards Dakotah's wife and son, her feet kicking up dirt behind her.

"Bitch!" Dakotah screamed through his hands, enclosed over a bloodied nose. The Seal shone brighter still, glaring like a neon green lighthouse beacon. Téa coughed and straightened herself, turning around to stand defensively between him and his family. She could finally see Dakotah in full frontal view—he was a large man, just over six feet tall with a strong, bulky build. He had silver streaks in his shoulder-length dark hair. His brown eyes, glaring furiously at her, were obscured by the menacing red glow that complemented the green occult pentagram etched above his brow and, now that she could spot it, the small green stone on a black rope hanging from his neck. She grimaced at the sight of him and remembered how he'd violated her, still feeling his hand on her breast from only a moment before.

Dakotah released his broken nose to wave the blood off his hands. He pointed a red-coated finger at Téa. "Your soul is mine!"

Téa jumped back in surprise as Yami wildly charged into the scene with a loud battle cry, suddenly throwing the weight of his body against the much larger Dakotah's, bringing both men to the ground in a similar fashion to his attack on the Orichalcos soldier. Dakotah hollered and kicked blindly around him, hoping to land a lucky hit. The pharaoh's smaller stature granted him the gift of agility and a quick recovery; he somersaulted into an upright position and dove towards Dakotah's head from behind. He threw his arm around the man's throat and restrained his head against his chest in a lethally tight chokehold. He held him tighter as Dakotah resisted, his long body flailing and his fingernails clawing desperately at Yami's forearm. Dakotah was finally paralyzed from the lack of oxygen, and Yami could get a word in.

"You like taking souls, do you?" he whispered in the strangled man's ear. Dakotah could only answer with bulging wide eyes and an open mouth choking for air. Blood from his nose trailed into his mouth. "Go on, take my soul then. Isn't my soul the one you're really after? What are you waiting for? Hmm?"

"Pharaoh, stop!" Téa cried pleadingly. "He's not a soldier! You're going to kill him!"

But Yami couldn't hear her. Her voice became muffled, indistinguishable from the other noises, fading slowly out of earshot as if he were submerged underwater. He drifted into something of a lucid dream state, out of the village and into an empty void, where no one seemed to exist but himself and the man dying in his elbow. He felt the warm arms of the Seal embrace him, caressing his back and his face, dragging him deeper into its spell, indulging every inch of his body and every drop of his blood with the most gratifying, electrifying rush of pleasure he'd ever known. It thickened his bones, strengthened his muscles, sharpened his mind. It suppressed his doubts, fears, and weaknesses until not a single obstacle stood in his way. He felt invincible, superhuman, and in passing moments, godly.

With Dakotah's fate literally in his hands, he once again had the power to decide who lived or died. He could rid the world of another rogue who dared violate Téa, who dared associate with the menace who stole Yugi from him, who dared join an evil organization to help commit the most calamitous mass murder humankind would ever see.

He once again held a gavel in one hand and a noose in the other, and it felt incredible. And Yugi was no longer around to get in his way.

Without Yugi around, Yami was finally free to dip into that wellspring of power once more.

Without Yugi holding him back, Yami could be strong again. Powerful again. Use his abilities for good again.

He could save the world.

Looking down at his prey, who was mere moments away from losing consciousness, Yami let a small, pleased smirk twist his lips, and made sure it was squarely in Dakotah's view. Despite still having no memories of his past, Yami finally felt like a king, dealing divine justice just as he should've been doing from the start. This was who he was.

"I told you to take your hands off her, didn't I?" Yami hissed. The smile never left his face, only twisting further to look more sadistic and deranged. "Did I not warn you of the consequences? You will pay for your insolence, you pathetic fool." He giggled hysterically as the color drained from Dakotah's face and lips—from fear or asphyxiation, he could neither tell nor care. He drank in the sight of his own justice being served, the sight of the life leaving his bulging eyes.

A deafening roar rang out, forcing the remaining civilians and soldiers to stop in their path to cover their ears. The sound sliced through Yami's intoxication, sobering him instantly. His vision regained its clarity, and he was suddenly back in the village square, knelt on the ground, firmly holding a man's throat in his arm, with two women and a little boy crying and imploring him to stop.

The mighty dragon roared again, causing a tremor to shake the ground. His head dipped back so that his snout pointed towards the sky. Timaeus turned his scarred eye to his master just as their gazes met each others', and the tip of his snout began to disintegrate into the air. Soon its entire head turned to white dust, vanishing into the clouds.

"No…" Yami gasped. "Timaeus!" The headless dragon continued to fade away at the shoulders.

Widespread alarm filled the air around him. "The dragon! It's disappearing!"

"What's happening?"

"Our savior is abandoning us!"

"Run for it!"

"Daddy!"

"My baby!"

Timaeus was nearly completely gone by this point, and a reinforcement team of soldiers had since arrived—at least a dozen more. With the dragon no longer a threat, they converged fully onto the village, extracting souls at an accelerated rate.

"Pharaoh!" Téa yelled over the screams. Her voice sounded labored; she had been trying to get his attention since he had attacked Dakotah. Still somewhat in a stupor, Yami had no idea how much time had passed since he had slipped in and out of his catatonic trance, and realized too late that he had slackened his death grip on his victim while he was distracted by Timaeus's departure.

Yami's head snapped to the side as an elbow cracked against his cheekbone. His vision spun off kilter from both the impact and still feeling dazed from the crash from his "high". Dakotah rolled away and stopped to wheeze, but wasted not another moment while his captor was disoriented. Aided by the Seal, Dakotah recovered extremely quickly while Yami was still struggling to his feet. Sweaty and beet-red in the face, the enraged man grabbed the pharaoh by the lapels of his jacket and hoisted him into the air.

Yami thrashed about, twisting his body and kicking his feet to no avail. Dakotah brought him up to face level, locking eyes with him. Yami gasped as their gaze met merely inches from each other; the Seal of Orichalcos and the Orichalcos stone were gleaming as bright as ever.

Though Dakotah and Yami looked nothing alike, Yami saw a distinct reflection of himself, a man under the spell of the Seal. Behind the broken nose was a face contorted by fury and bloodthirst, eyes a murderous, manic red. This was a special kind of rage—the Seal of Orichalcos had fully hijacked the man's will, and there was nothing holding him back.

"You're dead," Dakotah hissed. His hot breath reeked of the stench of blood. Without the adrenaline, it would've been enough to make Yami retch.

The pharaoh was suddenly thrown backward with exceptional strength. He soared through the air until a solid surface caught his head. He howled in agony, clutching his throbbing skull. A high-pitched ringing lacerated his temples. He shut his tear-filled eyes and pressed his palms to the sides of his head, desperate for relief.

"Stop this!" ordered Téa.

Dakotah stormed at Yami as if he didn't hear her. Yami forced his eyes open, wincing painfully at the sun's glare, when his vision started to double, then triple. Through a blurry vignette, he saw three Dakotah's stand over him, watching him triumphantly.

"Your soul is mine," the brutish man declared breathlessly, pointing down at an immobilized Yami. "And after that, I'll rip you to pieces with my bare hands!"

"No," Yami wheezed, slamming a hand on the ground beside his hip as he swayed. "No… stay awake, damn it!" His eyelids fell heavily, and he collapsed onto his side. He was unconscious by the time his head hit the ground.

TO BE CONTINUED

-

Need more? Here’s the full story so far. PART IV coming soon!

Thanks for reading,

ALG

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