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lemonjoonah · 5 years ago

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In Need of Orders (M)

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

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

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

....

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You won’t actually shoot me.”

“Th-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait, what am I supposed to do?”

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

“Perfect if you’re a mouse.” Seokjin takes a seat in your straight-backed desk chair. Groaning as his fingers continue to knead, moving down to his wide shoulders.

“Are you implying I’m some kind of rodent?” You glare up at him, ready to defend yourself against the slight.

“You should take it as a complement, mice are cute.” He gives you one of his famed smiles, the type where you can’t tell if he’s sincere or mocking.

“Why are you down here Seokjin?” You ask preparing to wheel back down beneath the undercarriage of your car. “I can’t imagine you’ve finished reading the manual already.”

“I did actually. This is me reporting for duty.” He throws the book down on to the floor next to you, marked and dog-eared. “Not a whole lot else I can do while on lock down.”

“Is someone upset that Lancelot and Percival get to have all the fun? Maybe it’ll teach you to obey orders better, rather than getting stuck here with me.”

“I can follow them just fine... when they don’t conflict with the completion of my mission.”

“Not getting spotted was part of your mission Seokjin.” Your response is dry as you state the obvious.

“Yes, but so is recovering the data from that breach, before he can unload it on someone else.”

“You don’t know that he has it. That’s why you had to observe him.”

“Listen to me, Hwang’s a fence, one whose been trying his best to stay off our grid, of course he has it. Once we find him we can track everything back to his source.” Seokjin’s confidence is admirable. You can’t deny that you would like to catch the one responsible for unleashing one hell of a computer virus that caused you and many others weeks of havoc and restless nights. The worst part is you don’t even know what they were able to get a hold of, the sooner Yoongi and Hoseok can track this man down the better.

“You still should have exerted more caution, you're not the only one on this team Seokjin, people can get hurt if you're too brash.” You’re surprised to find Seokjin nodding with his head hung low. Since when does he ever agree with you on something? “Now that you’re done with the manual, I do have work to assign that I doubt even you can mess up. Every single electrical circuit and wire needs to be removed, it’s unlikely that any have survived the flooding so it would be safer just to take them all out. I’m going to see if I can save the engine.”

Seokjin gives you a cheeky two finger salute before he sets to work behind the dash.

Thirty minutes later he’s already back at it with questions. “Do you have any speakers set up for music?”

“No, we could have used the car radio if you hadn’t submerged it, but here we are.” You usually work in silence anyway, but getting to deliver another stab of guilt is better than admitting your regular tendencies.

“Ah no problem, I can fix that.” At first you wonder if he intends to repair the radio, but when he proceeds to hum loudly, you realize that’s not the case. Instead he treats you to a selection of unrecognizable songs which you don’t bother to ask the title of.

You let it go for as long as you can, but thirty minutes later when you move from under the car to beneath the hood needing to drain the cylinders next, you finally raise the white flag in pursuit of silence. “Seokjin, please just stop okay?”

His chuckle taunts you, “That’s what you get for pulling a gun on me yesterday.”

“If you’re not careful I’ll do it again.” Your tone turns salty once you realize that is was his intent to torture your ears.

“Can’t believe you lasted that long, I thought for sure you were going to crack after five minutes of my melodies.”

“That’s what that was? I thought you jammed your thumb and were screaming out in pain the whole time.”

“Ha ha,” He retorts. You're almost upset when he goes quiet with nothing substantial to follow up your jab, but then he opens his mouth again. “How can you work when it’s so quiet?”

“Helps me focus when there’s no distractions.” You answer hoping that he’ll take the hint and remain silent.

“But doesn’t it get lonely?”

You slow your pace as you loosen the bolts on the gasket cover, choosing your words carefully as you make an attempt to side step that minefield of a query. “I work better when I’m by myself.”

“That wasn’t my question.” Seokjin catches on to your evasion proceeding to look around the hood of the car trying to meet your eyes.

“We all make sacrifices Seokjin. This is mine.”

“If you spoke to Arthur-”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” You try to cut him off quickly not wanting to get him involved in your circumstances, but he continues.

“I’m sure he would listen.”

“Drop the subject Seokjin, that’s an order.” You take a deep breath trying not to lose more of your composure again. “I chose to work in this place for several reasons. I don’t need to explain every one of them to you.”

Seokjin is surprisingly quiet for the rest of the day. It’s doubtful that you scared him off with your temper, he’s too confident for that. It’s more likely that he’s frustrated with you’re bickering. You hang back a bit more only giving direction when absolutely necessary. If you have to live with him you might as well attempt to make it bearable for the both of you.

That night you treat him to ramen from the business upstairs, they don’t usually do take-out but they make an exception for you. He sits across from you in a desk chair slurping his noodles while his eyes bore into you. “What, do I have something on my face?” You ask, starting to feel uncomfortable under his gaze.

Seokjin takes another slurp of his dish before he explains himself. “No, I’m just trying to figure you out.”

“Please don’t.” You plead, not wanting to broach the same subject from earlier.

“You’re passionate about your work. You’re good at what you do. Your superiors trust you.” You groan with exasperation, nevertheless he persists. “You're lonely here. The order could put you anywhere and you would most likely excel, and yet you bury yourself here, in this hovel.”

“It’s not a hovel...” You mutter, but you’ve run out of energy to argue and your appetite has now vanished. Rising from your seat you bid him good night. “I’m going to bed. Clean up this mess when you're done, and try not to throw your neck out cramming yourself onto my couch again.”

“Yes Ma’am.” He gives a muffled reply with noodles hanging from his mouth, and another fake salute.

You shake your head as you close your bedroom door behind you.

...

“You know,” Seokjin bursts into your room early the next morning, startling you awake. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen test scores as high as these. Are you sure you’re not a magician Merlin, because these results seem too good to be true. ”

You bolt upright in terror, “What are you looking at?”

“The start of your journey with the Kingsman.” He wanders around to sit at the foot of your bed as you drag the covers up to your chest. “I figured if there was an answer I would find it here, but I’ve never seen such an impressive resume. The last Arthur had you pegged from the beginning as the successor to your predecessor, he even recorded that his candidate didn’t stand a chance against you. You should be proud of this...” He leans to you reading the expressions on your face. “But you’re not. You’re scared. Why is that?”

“Stay out of my files Kim Seokjin.”

“Is that an order?” He asks his face still only a couple inches from yours when it pulls into smirk, looking pleased that he’s caught you off guard.

“Yes.”

“If I recall,” He closes the document in his hands, but his analysis continues, “You were moved here just shortly after Namjoon took over the position of Arthur. You were living the life before, testing and training new recruits, doling out orders and information. But then you fell into this pit. What did you do to piss him off?”

“Nothing, ju-just stop asking, okay? I don’t need your help, so stop trying to save me!” Your voice cracks as it reaches the point of yelling but he doesn’t back away. “Staying here alone, that was my choice. So don’t you dare try to take my one salvation away from me.”

“I’m not trying to take it away. I just want to understand it.” He answers his tone controlled and calm while holding your gaze firmly in his. When you look away he finally gets up leaving you with your files on your dresser.

...

A week passes and Seokjin continues to try and figure out why you chose to work in your closed off environment. Throwing out random and bizarre questions on what you might have done to Namjoon to get yourself stationed here.

“Did you expose his guilty pleasure for stuffed animals?” He asks as he helps you unbolt and remove seats, making room for the new chairs and bench which just arrived.

“Does he have a guilty pleasure for such a thing?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking you.” Seokjin states with a snicker.

“No.”

“Did you lose his glasses?’’ Seokjin inquires next as he pulls the seat from the driver side all on his own. You can’t help but notice the muscles straining through the back of his shirt as he lifts the heavy chair from its place. When he turns back around for the next you berate your pitiful self-control. Yes he’s attractive, but he’s also the current thorn in your side. God must be a sadist for creating this enticing man, with such a sharp tongue and a plaguing desire to mock you.

“He does that just fine himself, he doesn’t need me to do it for him.” In fact, you have two pairs on backup for Namjoon at all times, just in case such a need should arise.

“Did you sneak into his house and switch the sugar to salt in his tea set?”

“That’s just cruel,” You chuckle at the idea, making a mental note to check your own sugar before your next cup of coffee. “But no I didn’t.”

“Well that’s it then, I’m out of ideas for today.” He heaves the passenger chair next to the other with an exhausted breath. A bead of sweat drips down his brow as he collapses on the new back bench waiting to be installed.

“Really? I’m surprised. You haven’t asked the obvious question.” You lay the statement as bait hoping he’ll take hold so you can reel him in. To your delight, he does.

“Oh and what’s that?” His eyes light up, with the chance that you might actually tell him something informative.

“Did I destroy his favourite vehicle? I mean, that’s why you’re stuck here isn’t it?” Seokjin glares at you in frustration, his gloom making you giggle. “But the answer to that too is no, I didn’t. I’m not a scoundrel.”

“Is that what I am to you now,” He presents a gleeful smile with a raised brow. “A scoundrel?”

“Why do you look so proud about that?” Your question is full of judgement, but his delight is not swayed.

“Because, scoundrels are sexy.” He tilts his head and bites his lip with a nod as if to make a point.

You let out an obnoxious laugh. “Maybe to some. I fail to see the appeal.”

“Then what do you consider sexy?”

“Someone who’s attentive, and dutiful. You know, an adult.” You attempt to describe the very traits he appears to lack to make your point. Though Seokjin’s looks might draw you in, you are in need of something more.

He rolls his eyes and scoffs, “Where’s the fun in that?”

“It’s not always about the fun, I just like someone who I can depend on.”

Seokjin’s about to respond, his mouth open with a solemn stare in his eyes when the elevator chimes. It’s doors open for you to find a haggard Hoseok with two black empty bags. You greet him with surprise, having completely lost track of time, he had mentioned that he would be stopping by to pick up supplies.

You hurry away to unlock and ready the stock. While Seokjin rushes in, barely even letting Hoseok off the lift, launching into an interrogation about the mission and any progress they’ve made. There’s only a few short words exchanged before the man left in your charge storms away slamming the door behind him as he exits the workshop to your common room.

“Lancelot?” You call out to Hoseok with hesitation, noticing that he’s still standing in place where Seokjin left him. Stepping in you help to take and load one of his duffles with surveillance equipment he requested. After Seokjin’s barrage he looks like he might rupture if you’re not careful.

“Please no formalities,” He sighs in exhaustion, while he too starts to pack up what he needs. “I would prefer not to be an agent right now, even if it’s just for five minutes.”

“That bad?” You wince for Hoseok’s sake, he’s usually so optimistic, it’s worrisome to see him so beaten down.

“We know Hwang’s back in Seoul, but any time we get a whiff of a more detailed location he vanishes. Yoongi and I have brought in more agents. We’re stationed in the south end of the city now, trying to keep an ear to the ground.” He zips up his case and then turns the conversation to you. “How are you holding up?”

“Fine I guess, but Seokjin’s been looking into my assignment here. He keeps trying to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong.” Hoseok is one of only a few who know why you chose such an assignment, and you would like to keep it that way.

“Maybe you should give it a smack then. Or better yet put him on a leash.” Hoseok finally breaks into a smile as he pats you on the back.

“He’s not a dog Hoseok.”

“Really?” Hoseok raises his eyebrows as if it’s news to him. “Cause he looks at you with those puppy eyes all the time. I’m surprised you don’t see it.”

“I don’t need someone who doesn’t listen to me Hoseok.”

“Okay yes, that accident with the car was a major misstep on his part...”

“And the constant prodding into my past?” You groan, you were hoping Hoseok would have your back immediately. Why does he have to take the role of impartial referee when you need his bias the most?

“He probably thinks you’ve been wronged, and that you deserve better. Is it not natural to what's best for those we care about?”

You tilt your head starting to question your fellow agent’s sanity. “I doubt that’s the case Hoseok, he just likes to be nosey.”

“Fine, have it your way, live in denial. I’m sure he’ll be out of your hair soon anyway. But if I were you I would try and explain the situation. He might not be living here but you’ll still have to work closely with him in the future.”

“You’re saying I should tell him?” You challenge his suggestion, he must be overworked since he’s definitely not thinking clearly.

“I know it won’t be easy, but if he knows what’s really bothering you, he might try to be more tolerable.” He lugs the cases off the table crossing the straps over his chest.

“Either that or he’ll use it as ammo to really gun me down.” You curl your lip at the thought pacing behind Hoseok as he moves towards the elevator to head back above ground.

Before the door closes between you he holds it open to give you the support you wanted along with a sigh. “I really don’t think that’ll be the case. But if he does... I’ll be your witness when you tell Arthur you shot him in self-defence.”

“Deal.”

...

You find Seokjin on the couch with a pile of files and a coffee on the small table, his brow furrowed and his mouth pulled tight as he scans through each one at a rapid pace.

“I take it you weren’t happy with his update?” You call out as you enter the room advancing towards him.

“No, I wasn’t. They had to pull in lower level field agents because I can’t be out there to help them. We probably would have caught Hwang by now if I was still working on the case.”

“Seokjin, I have every camera in the city looking for him, there’s not much else we can do from here. And your not going out there to track-”

“I know I’m not Merlin. I just want this to be over so I can get my shot at redemption.”

You nod looking down at the files in front of him.“What are those?”

He lets out a panicked laugh as he tries to scrounge them together. “Nothing, don’t worry about it.”

“Seokjin.” You draw out his name with intent to reprimand, leading him to respond with a nervous grin. He shifts his hands away giving you a better view of what he’s up to.

“Since you said I couldn’t look through your files I thought I would take a general overview of those you’ve trained or worked with.”

You shake your head, tired of this never ending battle between the two of you. “You’re not going to stop are you?”

“Nope.” He takes a sip from his mug as he looks back down to the information he’s gathered. You scan through the names and pull out the file that haunts you to this day. Dropping it in front of Seokjin before taking a seat in the armchair across from him. He reads the name off the tab. “James Paxton the third, he sounds like a pompous prick.”

“Oh I can confirm he was, and definitely one of the most hard-headed recruits I’ve ever tested, but we shouldn’t speak ill of the dead,” You mutter as Seokjin opens his file to find the word deceased stamped in bold red letters. He stares up at you with his mouth agape, you can see the wheels turning in his head, trying to figure out how this fits into your narrative.

“Why didn’t I hear about this?”

“It wasn’t really broadcasted through the regular channels, if you weren’t at the main headquarters you didn’t know about it. It happened just over a year ago.”

“I would have been in Lhasa...” Seokjin mutters.

You nod, not surprised that information flew under his radar. “I didn’t realize it at the time, but the last Arthur, he saw me as a bar for people to cross. He thought if recruits could take orders from a ‘bossy woman’ they could take orders from anyone. James Paxton didn’t pass that test, and he paid for it with his life.”

Thankfully for once, Seokjin doesn’t have a comment, instead he sits there, waiting for you to continue.

“Paxton thought me pushy, and overbearing, told me so to my face, several times in fact. I should have had him kicked out, but I was determined to prove him wrong. There was a mission to recover the stolen data a couple months after the breach. There was a lead, before we learned of Hwang. We thought we had the location of where the data had been transferred to. I was supposed to go on the mission, but at the last minute Arthur told me to direct the team from off site.”

Your hands start to shake as the story continues. A mixture of both anger and fear coursing through you. You shift to hide them beneath you, gripping your legs to keep your fingers steady, but they fail to escape Seokjin’s notice.

His eyes are downcast in shame. “You don’t have to continue if you don’t want to Merlin. I’m-”

“You wanted to hear this Seokjin. I told you to leave it alone, I told you I didn’t want to talk about it.” You take a deep breath trying to rein in your anger, “Either you let me finish or never question me about my situation again.” He shuts his mouth instantly letting you continue. “It didn’t take me long to realize the lead was a trap once they got on site. I ordered a retreat, everyone else followed except for Paxton”

“It wasn’t your fault.” Seokjin interjects sitting on the edge of his seat.

“That doesn't mean I can’t be upset by it! Instead of trying to curb the discrimination the previous Arthur used it, and I didn’t even understand what he was doing until I lost someone. I found out that he enforced the idea among the recruits, that I was an overly authoritative woman, one who fails to take proper risks. Forget the fact that I am highly qualified, that I have more experience and knowledge of many of the situations than the other leaders, my lack of dick disqualified me from being taken seriously.” Seokjin falls silent again. He must realize that he too has failed to take you seriously in the past, then again, he’s that way with everyone else too.

“When Namjoon became the new Arthur shortly after, I was able to address my grievances. He was ashamed of his predecessor and wanted to do right by me, so I requested this place as a base. I wanted somewhere I could work on my own for the most part and not have to worry about people thinking me conceited or bossy. I needed a break from giving out orders.”

You finally finish to find Seokjin with a narrowed brow and clenched jaw. His tone matching the anger in his stance, “You’ve been here a year-”

“I know.”

“You’re telling me you’ve been punishing yourself for a year?” He’s question is poised with what looks to be genuine frustration, “Over two assholes who couldn’t understand how valuable you are?”

“It’s not a punishment, it’s a safety net.” You explain.

“It’s a cell!” He gestures around him. “You’re basically living in solitary.” You shift awkwardly not knowing what to say, and definitely not expecting this reaction. “Come on, we’re going out.” He orders, getting up from his seat and pulling you out of yours. “There’s a bar I know close by. I’m taking you out for a drink.”

“You think it wise for you to leave?” You question him, not knowing how else to diffuse the situation, not when your focus is drawn to his grip which wraps your shoulders.

“It’s only a couple blocks away. If we see anything suspicious I promise we’ll head straight back. It’s your call, but I think you could use a night out.” He pushes you in the direction of your bedroom. “Go change into something that doesn’t have oil stains all over it.”

You should probably put your foot down, there’s no saying what could happen. But seeing Seokjin act like this... maybe Hoseok was right, he actually cares. The problem is now that you can see this side of him you don’t want to lose hold of it just yet. “Fine, but if anything at all is amiss-”

“We’ll hightail it out of there, and barricade ourselves in here for the long haul.” He rattles off the promises. “Now go get ready.”

...

Seokjin maintains the persona of a caring companion as he drags you to his favourite bar in the city. “It’s quiet and the owner, Choi, is an old friend of Percival’s, he knows not to ask too many questions. There’s almost always at least one or two of us from the order or field agents hanging out there.”

He holds the door open for you to enter and you're greeted to the sight of a worn down ale house. A robust and stained wooden bar takes the focal point of the room, and there’s not a single other patron in sight. You can’t help but regret being forced to change out of your usual attire. You didn’t want to look out of place, but with no one here to take notice, your black dress it’s an unnecessary and uncomfortable gambit. Seokjin on the other hand looks very pleased to be back in his usual attire, a three piece suit that’s been confined to the closet while he’s with you in the workshop.

“Like I said, it’s quiet.” He chuckles while he helps you take off your coat.

From out back steps the barman to greet you. He’s an unexpected yet welcome gem of a sight among the rubble, a handsome face with a wide smile which he presents to you. You might have to stop by here again just to take in this view, maybe study some of the tattoos he has scattered across his arms.

“Choi not in tonight?” Seokjin asks after seeing your reaction to the man behind the counter. He must not be the usual staff, it’s a shame really, but it’s funny to see Seokjin look so displeased. Realizing that for once he might not be the most attractive person in the room.

“Oh you know him?” Your host inquires with surprise, “No he wasn’t feeling too good, probably will end up spending the night by a toilet from the looks of him. I offered to take over tonight so he could get some rest.”

“That was nice of you.” You extend the man a warm smile.

“I like to think so.” He responds while beaming back at you. Seokjin hastily gives both your orders, allowing the bartender to leave you with a lingering stare as he walks back to grab your drinks. Maybe your efforts with the dress weren’t such a waste.

Seokjin glares at the man, mumbling a few choice words from which you manage to pull the word, ‘Flirt’.

“He was just being nice.”

“My god you can’t read people when it comes to the way they look at you. You’ve clearly caught his attention...” Seokjin drops unexpectedly.

“I can read people just fine.” You bite back in confidence.

“Really?” He challenges you, leaning forward with a whisper, “Then I suggest you look a bit closer.”

The bartender hammers Seokjin’s drink down in front of him while he slides yours along gently, giving you a chance to inspect a stunning work of art on his hand, a flock of birds flying in formation following the trail between his thumb and index. He catches your stare and while you might be embarrassed at your lingering eyes he teases the skin of his lip between his teeth. “I’ll let you get back to your date.” He gives you one last flash of a grin as he backs away into what must be a stock room.

“It’s not a... date.” You start to explain but it’s reduced to a sigh once the man leaves your sight.

Seokjin presses a napkin to your mouth prompting you to look back at him in utter confusion. “Sorry, thought I spotted some drool,” He dabs the corner of your lips. “Just there.”

You steal the napkin from his hand and toss it on the bar. “Thank you for your concern.” You take a long draft of your drink refusing to look at your fellow agent.

“Someone must be thirsty.” He snickers, not bothering to keep his laughter hidden.

“What can I say, the refreshments at the base have been far from gratifying.” Your quip might be implied but it hits its mark with flawless execution.

“Hey!” The volume of Seokjin’s voice rises to a new level to aid in his defence. “I’ll have you know I’ve been called an acquired taste.”

“You’ll have to forgive my pallet for not meeting your standards then. I’m in need of something that goes down a bit easier.”

You take your victory in the form of Seokjin’s reddening ears and sputter from his lips. “After that confession, I’m almost sorry to be standing between you and that tall drink. Almost.” He reiterates with a wink.

“It’s probably for the best.” You sigh, finally dropping the banter. “He might be interested now, but I bet that would change pretty quickly if he got to know me.”

“I doubt that.” He whispers right before he takes a sip. You can’t be entirely sure that he intended you to hear his comment.

“Oh really? You’ve spent the past week in very close proximity with me. How would you describe me?”

“There’s definitely a mix of frustration, with a side agitation, and a need for provocation. ” You let out a heavy groan while he continues. “Now some might find those to be unlikable traits, but I’ve come to find them very endearing.”

You snort into your drink. “That’s the best joke you’ve told yet.”

Seokjin nods carrying the weight of a small smile on his lips. “What about me? I’d be curious to hear how you read my personality.”

“Are you sure about that?’

He nods, “Hit me with your best shot... if you can.”

He might think you unable to read people, but you can’t wait to prove him wrong. Your words spill faster than you intend, creating an improvisational soliloquy into his psyche.“You deflect with humor constantly, which in turn prevents anyone from getting close because they can tell what you truly feel about them. Can’t take an order without asking a question. You’re determined to a fault, but you also use that drive when you’re concerned that something’s wrong. Not letting anything rest until you’ve fixed what can be fixed.”

He holds your gaze, sitting there in silent disbelief before he comes to and lashes out, “Completely incorrect, it’s a wonder you became an agent.” He shakes his head with a scoff before finishing his drink in one sip.

“Nice deflection,” you counter. “I rest my case.”

He narrows his eyes and gives no response other than to call for another round.

...

After finishing the second you’re about to suggest your return to the base, but the frown on Seokjin’s face as he looks into the bottom of his glass stops you. It should be an unwritten rule that men who look as good as him aren’t allowed to pout. How are you supposed to remain in charge when he can disarm you in seconds with a simple jut of his lip? It’s the one tool in his arsenal he has yet to use, you can only hope he doesn’t realize how effective it is on you.

You’re quick to order the next batch, and half way through the third he poses a question that he must have been holding on to. “You said in your analysis that people have trouble reading me because of my humour, how do I act when I really like someone?”

“How would I know?” You raise your brow along with your drink.

“Then how do you think I should act? You know, so it’s not misconstrued as humour.”

“Level with the person, have a serious conversation for a fraction of a second.” It feels odd to be giving him your input on such a matter. Why would he ask this of you? And why do you mentally recoil when you start to think of him using that advice on someone else?

“If that's the case, I should probably tell you...” He leans in towards you, his face just inches away. Your heart stops as his hand reaches out to cover yours. He pauses there for a moment watching your expression, “I need to,” The gaps in his speech are big enough for your mind to flee from reality, creating a scenario where he admits... “I need to go use the facilities.” A half-hearted chuckle pours of him along with the words which break you from your daydream.

“Then go,” You snap, your tone surprising even to you. It’s not like you wanted to have a serious moment with him, right? But the pain in your chest says otherwise.

“Are you... I was just kidding around,” he stammers.

What did you expect him to say, that he thinks of you as more than just an agent, even more than a friend? Did you want him to close the gap and kiss you? Oh god, you did. You like him. You like Kim Seokjin, and right then and there you wanted him to confess the same to you.

“Yeah I got it,” you mutter back, trying to cover your internal shock. “That’s all you ever do.”

Seokjin gets up from his seat and heads to the washroom. Leaving you at the bar to contemplate his words.

You feel like you’ve fallen into every trap you told yourself not to. But that can’t be right, it’s not like you fell for his fake smiles or flirtation. You must be drunk, that’s the only explanation. How else could you ever think that he might actually hold even a shred of feelings for you. He feels sorry for you, that’s all, that’s why you're here with him now. And once he’s treated your wounds, once he no longer feels guilty, he can go back to flirting with you and everyone else to get whatever he wants.

The bell over the door chimes as a large group of people enter. You immediately look away, embarrassed by your current distress, turning your head to focus instead on the photos of the owner and his patrons pinned to the walls. Dabbing the corner of your eyes with the tip of your finger.

Despite the number of newcomers the bar still remains oddly quiet. From a group of six you would expect the volume of conversation to be a bit more boisterous. With your instincts and suspicions now aroused, you keep an eye on them in the mirror over the bar. Darting your eyes back to their reflection every few seconds, never wanting to linger too long. You’re about to throw away your apprehension, blaming it on your current level of anxiety on Seokjin, when something inexplicable happens.

As the man seated in the middle leans towards one of his companions for a chat, his hand rises to rub his long nose, and in what you can only describe as a rendering problem, it passes through. You try to remain calm grabbing your glasses from your purse, turning yourself slightly you manage to edge his face in the very corner of your frames. With the tap of your finger to the rim of the specs you launch an application you created but never had the need to use personally.

When you had first designed your car, Yoongi had complained that even with the locater he had difficulty finding the vehicle when he left it cloaked. It was a reasonable request that prompted you to create a function that scans for visual distortions and creates a digital replication of what lies beneath the camouflage. And now as you activate that function you find what Seokjin and the others hadn’t been able to track down for months, the face of Hwang.

He must be wearing what you can only guess is a variation on your technology, but instead of making his face invisible it projects different facial features over some of his own. It takes all of your restraint not to let out the swear taking up residence on the tip of your tongue. Why are they here of all places? Do they know that Seokjin is here? They look as if they’re waiting for someone. A potential mark, a seller, or maybe a buyer?

Regardless of motive if your colleague steps out of the bathroom he’ll walk right into their view. You pull your glasses off leaving them on the bar, and call out to the keep. “Would you mind watching my stuff for me?” You gesture to your coat and specs putting on a fake smile. “Don’t want to lose my seat.”

“Don’t worry.” He confirms with a soft tone along with a grin. “I’ll keep them safe.”

Gliding off the stool, avoiding the stares of the target and his men, you slip into the hall and behind the men’s room door. Thankfully Seokjin’s already at the sink by this point. You find him hunched over hands pressing down on the counter as he lets out a long sigh.

As he combs back his hair with damp fingers he looks up. Meeting your eyes in the mirror with embarrassment and disbelief, he lets out a small self pitting laugh. “Listen if you’re here to tell me off I get it, I didn’t mean-”

“Put your glasses on. You have them right?” You join him at the sink while his pity turns to confusion.

“What-”

“Just do it.”

He fumbles to retrieve them from his jacket pocket before sliding them on. You move in as close as you can, bracing yourself on his arms so you can speak into the receiver embedded. Seokjin looks taken aback but remains still as you encroach on his space. “Call Merlin, auto-connect override authorization 2769.” That creates a connection between the two glasses without you having to be there to answer it, allowing Seokjin to see the issue at hand.

“Fuck.” He whispers right next to your ear as you remain close, getting ready to call in for backup.

“My thoughts exactly.” You mutter, unable to decide if this is a stroke of good luck or bad. “Add secondary line, call Lancelot.”

Seokjin leans his head down so the speaker falls next to your own ear. It’s not the best connection with the audio from the bar, but at least you can hear Hoseok. “Merlin, Galahad. What- am I seeing this right?”

“Yes, Hwang’s at our location, Choi’s bar. We’re not sure of his purpose here, but he’s brought a few friends.”

“I can see that, but why are you both there?”

“Not the time. We’re in the restroom but not in an adequate state to take on so many and secure the target. How long will it take you to get here?” You try to gloss over your lack of sobriety, but Hoseok doesn’t fall for the guise of your paraphrasing.

“Not in an adequate state huh? That’s an expression for drunk I haven’t heard before. Sending a message to Percival, I can have him and the team on site in 10 minutes. Can you maintain your current position?”

“Yeah small problem with that...” Seokjin comments.

“I heard it too, maintain cover at all cost. We can’t scare them away.” Hoseok’s voice flutters, sounding almost nervous.

“Heard what?” You can barely make out Hoseok’s words, let alone the taproom.

“Someone’s coming to check the bathrooms. They’re looking for any people of interest.”

“We could try slipping out the back door,” You offer.

Only for Hoseok to throw a wrench in your suggestion. “If it’s a business dealing they might have people posted there.”

“We need a distraction then?” You ask and Seokjin returns with a nod. Just hiding in a stall won’t do either, they’ll likely wait for the occupants to come out. You have to make them uncomfortable enough to leave without looking too close. You’ll probably regret what you're about to do later, but right now your options are limited.

You reach out and grip Seokjin’s shirt, drawing him into you so he has you pressed against the counter. He catches on quickly, putting his hands on your waist he lifts you up and onto the marble surface. “Make it look good Seokjin. Shouldn’t be hard for you to put on a show, you’ve had so much practice with me already.” His act of concern, and portrayal of affection have shown you he should do just fine when it comes to a performance of lust.

“It wasn’t my intent to toy with you.” He growls back before snatching your mouth with his, forceful enough to ensure swollen lips and smudged lipstick. One of his hands rises to your hair pulling the elastic out of place. Allowing his fingers to weave between the strands, he delivers a slight tug to your roots while you drag your teeth across his bottom lip.

You push his suit jacket off his wide shoulders, throwing it down on the counter next to you, before forcefully opening the top of his shirt, accidentally ripping the button off his collar in the process. He pauses his assault on your mouth for a moment, investigating the damage you imposed.

“It wasn’t my intent to destroy your shirt, but here we are,” You explain unfastening the next two buttons with a bit more care. Your fingers dip under the crisp white cotton of his shirt, raking visible lines down his chest. “Take responsibility for your actions for once. Tell people your true intentions or you will hurt them.”

“You want me to know my intentions? Fine.” He unzips your dress a few inches to bare your collar and shoulders before his lips target your neck. You close your eyes letting your head roll back. “I want this.” Seokjin grabs your upper thigh compelling a gasp to escape you. “I want you.” He confesses the same time the door creaks open.

There’s not much movement from Hwang’s lackey. Your new audience doesn’t come in far, instead he freezes in place when he spots the both of you. Seokjin addresses him in a gruff manner without turning his face away from you . “It’s not a free show buddy, take your piss and leave.” The man clears his throat, turns round and closes the door in his wake, leaving you once alone with Seokjin. Though revelling in his soft bites to your neck, gaining back your composer is a more pressing matter. “I think he’s gone.”

“We can’t be too sure,” Seokjin counters your observation as he continues to nip at the column of your throat. “He might come back.”

“Shit, I just lost visual of the bar.” Hoseok interrupts much to your embarrassment. You somehow forgot he was on the com-line during your effort to teach your fellow agent a lesson. “We’re running blind, maintain cover for now.”

“See?” The breath of Seokjin’s laughter is felt on your skin as he wins the debate.

“You really want to keep going with this?” You’re surprised, just a few minutes ago the man was making you the butt of his joke. Why the change?

“I wouldn’t mind. I’m just sorry we couldn’t be somewhere more intimate, or private.”

“You and me both,” Hoseok deadpans.

“Lancelot, I suggest you find something else to watch while we maintain cover as directed,” Seokjin instructs. You find his mouth back on yours before he gets a response on the com.

He’s right though the circumstances are less than ideal for a romp. The damp counter beneath you, the flickering fluorescent lights, and the out of order stall in the corner are all enough to make you cringe. No part of this is glamorous except for the man standing in front of you, which makes him all the more appealing. “We could just lock the door you know.” You offer a logical substitute plan. “I’m sure after what they’ve seen they would understand and we could stop this charade.”

“But where’s the fun in that? I’m sorry but I am too dedicated to this cover. I want to see it through.”

“Percival’s team will be dropping in two minutes.” Hoseok cuts in.

“Yes sir,” Seokjin mumbles against your lips while he responds to Hoseok, not dwelling on the interruption. “We should probably make the act more realistic, you know gasps, moans, they might be listening.”

You highly doubt that, but if he wants to play, fine. You’ll show him what he’s missing when he casts you aside. “You first.” You respond, tugging him between your legs, causing the hem of your dress to ride back. His cock erect beneath his pants and pressing against your clothed core. He lets out a groan of relief. “So unlike you to be already standing at attention.” You tease him.

“What can I say, you bring out the best in me,” he gasps in response.

Seokjin takes your legs in his hands driving your dress even further up your thighs as he proceeds to grind against you. He tilts his head with a smile while you react. “Too far?” He whispers.

You shake your head. If only he knew what he would find if he pulled your underwear aside. Your cunt, committing the ultimate treason against your better sensibility, is ready and willing. If he’s not careful he might get a darkened spot on his suit pants.

As one hand slides further up the inside of your thigh, the other takes your chin directing you to meet his eyes. His fingers tease the edge of your underwear making their presence known and as he waits for permission to go further. You nod back at him. His fingers slip behind the strip of fabric, separating your sopping slit from the damp material. “Looks like you’re well prepared too Merlin.”

“I guess so,” You tease, “Do remind me to give a big tip to the bartender for that.”

“I have a hard time believing that none of this belongs to me.” Seokjin murmurs back to you, but just as his knuckles graze your slick folds and clit, Yoongi announces his team’s arrival. “Another time I guess,” Seokjin whispers with a final kiss to your cheek. He helps you off the counter and pulls down your dress to a more respectable length while he takes one last stroke of your thigh.

“I take it’s safe to restore visual now?” Hoseok asks with a hint of laughter. You’re never going to hear the end of this. “Percival’s about to enter, I do suggest locking the door this time though. In case anyone does make a run for it, we’ll catch them outback. I don’t want you two engaging in this capture if you don’t have too.” You roll your eyes over Hoseok’s word choice. “Galahad, give Merlin the glasses. I want her input on the scene.”

Seokjin hands off his glasses to you and proceeds to lock you both in.

“Where are they stationed?” You inquire trying to get a full view of the task now at hand.

“The majority including Percival are entering through in the front, and a couple men out back, there was no one there so they must not be expecting a scene. Were there any civilians on site?”

“Just the barman.”

“Okay hang tight.” Hoseok orders.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t be helping?” You ask, wanting to distract yourself from the tension between you and Seokjin.

“Nah, Percival’s got this. Besides I saw your reflection and you’re looking a little flushed Merlin, you doing okay?”

“Shut up Lancelot,” you grumble back in a muffled tone.

“Was it the alcohol or was it Galahad?” Luckily Seokjin was too far away to hear Hoseok's last question letting you ignore the comment as the team makes their entrance. Yoongi’s glasses give you the full view of what he sees. Hwang, much to your surprise, actually looks interested in the presence of the new arrivals. They’re obviously waiting for someone to show, but it’s clear that they have no idea who to look for.

“Don’t jump on the arrest so fast.” You direct, looking to gain any positive out of this awkward mission. The reward very much outweighing the risk. “You might be able to get some information first. Come off as a buyer, they might be trying to move the information or the tech.”

“You heard her Percival, get as much as you can before we make the catch.” Hoseok confirms your plan back to the rest of the team.

You watch barely drawing breath as he takes a seat across from the target. Hwang opens up the conversation first, “I didn’t think you would bring so many men just for a demonstration.”

“I prefer not to take any chances.” Yoongi’s response is blase, as he beckons the barman over to give his order.

Hwang looks uncomfortable, for someone with a product to sell he’s lacking the usual confidence that you would expect to see. “Well this should provide for your needs then. You ask me to come to the thick of their territory and as you can see I’m still here.”

“You are, but how do we know they aren’t waiting to make a strike? Have you ever seen one?” Yoongi pushes, he must be taking great enjoyment out of finally being able to pull one over on the man who’s kept them searching for so long.

“I have, once, but I’ve been able to keep myself hiding for months with this.” He taps something a bud placed in his ear. It must be what’s projecting the image overlay on his face disguising his true features. “Camera’s can’t pick up my face underneath, it’s better than any mask you can buy, as requested.”

“Where did you get the tech?”

“You-” The man pauses, his brow furrows before his expression shifts to a blank slate. He makes a subtle reach for his jacket pocket, but Yoongi is quicker on the draw. Lunging across the table he grabs the back of Hwang’s neck and smashes his head down on the table.

It’s hard to see the rest of the fighting with only Yoongi’s perspective. You catch flashes of the scene as the target’s men retaliate. There’s a flurry of pint glasses to distract as firearms are drawn. Broken shards scatter the establishment as the bartender flees away from danger towards the back exit with a phone to his ear.

The altercation ends rather quickly, with those who are still conscious held at gunpoint by Yoongi’s men. It’s a relief to see the target secured, and the tech recovered, but you are left with disgust after having your own work be used against your team.

Hoseok gives you the all clear to leave, but you're not sure you're ready to face the others just yet. “Could you give me a minute?” You request from Seokjin as he goes to open the door. He gives you a nod along with your hair tie, while you hand back his glasses.

“Yeah, I’ll just go... fetch our coats.”

“Could you find my glasses too while you’re out there Galahad?”

He freezes for a fraction of a second before giving you a hesitant response, “Yeah... yeah sure thing.”

What, no funny retort? No rebuttal? You thought calling him by his title would cause him to taunt you a little, but nothing comes of it. “If you can’t find them, the barkeep might have them.” That’s probably why the signal went dark, he must have moved them for safe keeping.

“Great. Just who I wanted to see.” He responds with a forced smile and gritted teeth.

“If it’s that much of a problem I’ll go get them back myself.”

Seokjin leaves you with a grunt, “No, no, I’ll go see the cowardly Casanova.”

The second he opens the restroom door you can hear Yoongi shout a request. “Galahad can I leave the team out back in your care? I need to move out and take this thief to Arthur for questioning.”

Hwang had apparently regained consciousness, and starts arguing in his defence. “I didn’t steal that data! I just set them up with someone to make their tech. They were supposed to come here, they asked for a demonstration here and then stood us up!”

Yoongi chooses to ignore him while he continues to give orders to Seokjin. “Make sure they drug the civilian, and then toss him behind the bar. Shouldn’t need to do much more than that, it already looks like standard bar brawl damage.”

“That I can do,” Seokjin responds with satisfaction as he steps out letting the door close between the two of you. It’s amazing how much one flirtatious bartender appears to have got under his skin.

You take a few minutes to straighten yourself in the mirror. Tying up your hair and closing the zipper on your dress when you spot several smudges of lipstick across your skin. You reach blindly for the paper towel, only to knock your purse to the floor in the process. A couple items roll away. Your pen, to your frustration, makes it all the way into the out of order stall. As tempted you are to leave it, you know it wouldn’t be wise to have something so lethal on the floor of a public bathroom.

With a groaning you crouch down, peering through the couple of inches between the stall door and the floor. Finding the missing item next to a pair of well worn leather shoes. You throw yourself back in shock grabbing your pistol from your overturned clutch, taking aim at the door bearing the sign. With a swift kick you force the stall open, and there passed out on the toilet is the man from the pictures behind the bar, the owner that Seokjin was asking after.

“Shit.” You lower your gun as you run out of the bathroom calling out for back up. The bar is deserted though, Yoongi’s team has already left, forcing you to head down the long hall to the back door alone. You slow your steps as you reach the end of the corridor, starting to pick up bits of conversation between Seokjin and the imposter. You keep yourself plastered to the wall trying to assess the situation with a narrow view through the window next to the door.

The once friendly bartender points a gun at Seokjin. The other agents, those that were supposed to be keeping an eye on the ‘civilian’ are out of commission, all laying on the ground around him.

“Call her out here, now.” The barman still holds onto his smile as he makes his demand, but now it only gives you chills as you try to puzzle out the motive behind it.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.” Seokjin keeps his hands at eye level, he’s trying to play the role of innocent bystander but that’ll only get him shot if he’s not careful.

“The woman with you, that was Merlin, was it not? She designed this tech didn’t she?” He lifts your glasses for Seokjin to see. “And created the original cloaking program. I never should have outsourced it, she saw right through their guise. Since their product was faulty, I’ve been given a new directive.”

“Merlin? You mean like the magician in the old tales? Trust me that woman is nothing of the sort.” Seokjin is actually now chuckling despite having a gun held to him.

“Very well, if you won’t comply. We’ll just have to go retrieve her together.” He gestures Seokjin to the door with his gun. “After you.”

You shift yourself into position behind the door, when Seokjin opens it you remain concealed on the other side. Your fellow agent steps through, moving backwards to keep his eyes on the assailant, allowing him to spot you once he’s inside. You raise a finger to your lips holding your gun to your chest. You can’t let him give off any indication that he’s seen you.

When Seokjin’s a few feet down the hall the aggressor proceeds to follow, and once his arm crosses the threshold you ram your full weight against the door. There’s a howl of pain as you trap his forearm in the door frame. The gun drops from his hand and hits the floor. Seokjin moves first taking the weapon and then the arm of the man who pointed it at him. You release the door and Seokjin drags the enemy in, throwing him against the wall. There’s a sickening crack as his head meets the concrete behind him.

Though his body is now lip and eyes in a daze he still chuffs when he spots you, “So nice of you to join us Merlin, we were just talking about you.”

Seokjin pulls back a fist letting land on the man's face with the full force of a brutal punch, finally sending the culprit into a comatose state.

“You okay?” You ask, noting his unusually rigid composure.

Seokjin nods, straightening his jacket as he lets the imposter fall to the floor. “Looks like I was right, you did catch his attention.” He boasts, with levity returning to his voice. “How did you know to come find me?”

“Found Choi, right where he said he’d be too...” You watch as Seokjin crouches down to retrieve your glasses from the man. “Who is he?”

“I don’t know, but I doubt he works alone.” Seokjin comments while staring at the tattoo that had caught your eye earlier, a flock in the shape of a V.

...

Yoong makes a return trip, picking up the new captive as well as aiding the unconscious agents. The detainees will be moved to headquarters where they’ll be held for questioning before they’re turned over to the authorities along with a list of transgressions and admissible evidence.

After returning from the bar your base is busier than ever, with everyone following standard procedure and filing reports. There’s hardly room to move, let alone have a private moment with Seokjin to discuss what transpired. A full night and day go by with you only being able to lock eyes with him across the room. As much as you want to talk to him, your duty comes first, ensuring that everyone receives their new orders after the unusual turn of events.

You retreat to your room after a long day of report processing. There are still a few statements left to grab but those can be done tomorrow. The first recordings of the interrogation have come in and you're desperate to hear what Hwang has to say about the tech you found him with. To your delight it’s that exact question which Namjoon poses first.

Hwang rattles off the information, needing little prompting, they must have already cut a deal. “I was contacted by an anonymous client over a year ago, they asked if I might know of someone who could utilize a cloaking program they had picked up, and apply it to something else. They wanted a mask, a way to hide in plain sight. I offered up a tech company who does some backwater dealings in armaments and weapons, and became the middleman between the two parties until the project was finished.”

“And you have no idea who hired you?” Namjoon asks. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Their wallet was big enough their identity wasn’t a concern, my main contact only referred to himself as V. He called me to the bar last night to provide a final demonstration to prove it worked before his agency made the purchase.”

Seokjin was right, Hwang was just a fence. Which would confirm the other man part of the group who orchestrated the data breach.

You switch between the video files, hoping to find the other more enlightening. In the very centre of the shot sits the man dubbed as V. He answers none of the questions directed to him. Minutes pass while he remains silent looking directly into the camera with a jeering grin and narrowed eyes. It’s off putting to say the least, no offer or deal can sway him to spill his knowledge. He looks content almost as if this is exactly where he wants to be. While the interrogators become increasingly frustrated, his smile only grows wider.

You close out of the recording unable to take the silent stares any more. There’s nothing in his file they’ve attached other than physical attributes. As you search the empty pages for a scrap of knowledge, a call request comes in from Arthur. You throw on your glasses answering in haste hoping he’ll have something new to share.

“Sorry to bother you so late. It’s been quite a day.” His voice is full of cracks and weariness.

“It’s no problem. I can only imagine after seeing the footage. Any new information on who this man works for?

“No, nothing.”

“Oh,” Your voice echoes in confusion, “Was there something else you needed? Did you get my report?”

“Yes I did, thorough as usual. But it’s not your report I wanted to discuss.” Namjoon pauses again. ”I received an unusual request from Galahad at the end of his. I wanted to talk it over with you before I gave my answer.”

“Go ahead.” You cringe fearing what he might have said in his statement.

“I freed him from lock down, and offered a new assignment, but he requested permission to stay and assist you with the vehicle repairs until they were completed. I would permit his extension, but I don’t believe that the answer to this decision rests fully with me, so I’m leaving it to you.”

“Don’t you need him back in the field? We don’t know who this man V is, or who he’s working for.”

“And it’s doubtful that we’ll learn anything more anytime soon unless he starts answering our questions. There’s little direction in where we can take the investigation right now. I don’t have anything that requires urgent attention, that’s why the choice is yours to make. If you need help or want assistance he’s offering it to you.”

“Thank you sir,” You’re grateful that he has left you with the final decision on the matter. “Would you mind if I spoke to him first before I decide?”

“Not at all.”

...

You creep out into the common area, Hoseok is splayed out on the couch while Yoongi’s curled up on the armchair, but Seokjin is nowhere to be found. Did he leave the base taking advantage of his newly acquired freedom?

You doubt you’ll be able to sleep, not with the questions you have running through your head. Looking to keep your mind busy you descend the stairs and enter the passcode to your workshop, only to find the lights already on and Seokjin’s long legs sticking out from under the car. There’s a swear and a clang of a metal tool hitting the cement floor. You hold back a laugh as you approach, choosing instead to surprise him by pulling on the roller bed to tug him out from beneath the car.

The initial shock on his face quickly changes to a smug grin. “I guess I’ve been caught.”

“Trying to sabotage my work again?”

“No, if you can believe it I’m actually trying to be an aid rather than a hindrance.”

“I’ll alert the media.” You fire back before diving into the more serious topic at hand. “I just got off the line with Arthur. He said you’ve been cleared to return to duty...”

Seokjin’s face falls slightly as he sits up on the rolling platform, “Oh-”

“But you also requested an extension here.”

“I did.” He looks up at you with sincerity, one that’s rarely seen on his face. No deflection to humour. This is just him.

“I need to know why.” You keep your expression even, not wanting your feelings to influence him in any way.

“I want to help fix the car.”

“I need more of an explanation than that Seokjin. A few days ago you couldn’t wait to get out of here. ” This is it, there’s no room to spare feelings. He’ll tell you he feels guilty, or that he feels sorry for you, leaving you to send him on his way and that will be the end of this trial.

“I don’t want things to go back to the way they were before. I like working with you, being here with you. You're not afraid to let me know when I’ve crossed the line.”

“So what, you just want to use me to keep you in check? I’m not here to fix you Seokjin.” You start to back away ready to send word to Namjoon that he’s free to assign him elsewhere when Seokjin grabs your hand, he rises from his spot on the floor in a rush to stand between you and the door.

“That’s not what I meant. You make me want to be better.”

You pull yourself from his grip backing into the side of the car, “And after you’ve used me to better yourself, what then? You’ll just move on to your next project?”

“No, fuck... I don’t know how else I can say it other than I like you Merlin. You aren’t the plan, you’re the objective.” He pauses for a moment, watching as his words sink in to you. “If you’re not interested in what I want to offer... I get it, but stop being so blind when it comes to yourself!”

You fall still as you hear his confession, but you’re not ready to believe or condemn his words just yet. “If that’s the case why did you mock me at the bar?” Your voice wavers as you question him. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“I was going to, but I didn’t think you would appreciate a drunken confession. You wanted a serious conversation, here it is. I want to stay here with you. Even if you’re not interested in a relationship, I respect that, but I still think we could both benefit from working together.”

He’s right, you might have believed him right then, but later, once the effects of the alcohol had worn off you would’ve thought it another game of his. You shift against the car embarrassed by your misreading of his motives, but pleased to see that they fall in line with your own.

“I wouldn’t say that I wasn’t interested...” You mumble your own confession carefully as he shifts in closer to his mouth catching a grin when he hears your words. “But staying would put you in a problematic position when you’re required to follow my orders. If we’re to continue down this path there wouldn’t be an equal power dynamic.”

“Good.” he mutters along with a chuckle. “Is that your only objection?”

“Yes, but-”

“Arthur released me from under your command. Any order you give will be discretionary.”

“Discretionary orders?” You scoff. “You can barely follow mandatory orders.”

“Yes but it solves your problem, doesn't it? This way you can be sure that I will only follow an order if I want to.” He leans in placing his hands on either side of you on the hood of the car. “So Merlin, do you want me to stay?”

“Yes...”

“Do you want to continue what we started yesterday?”

You nod biting your lip at the thought of it.

“Then I await your orders.” He stands still not moving an inch while you remain caged between his arms and caught in his eyes.

“Let’s be clear on something first,” You state, trying not to focus on how close his lips are or how soft they’ll feel when they touch your skin.“I don’t want you to think you are in any way saving me.”

“I am well aware of that now. I finally realise I need you to save me.”

“From what?” You can’t help but laugh at his conclusion.

“My impulsive actions.” He lifts you onto the car just like he lifted you onto the bathroom counter. “My runaway mouth.” He closes the distance for a swift kiss. “And my very unprofessional desires.” His fingers flirt with the bottom of your shirt taking up residence underneath the garment against the skin of your waist.

“Yet you combat every effort when someone tries to restrain those tendencies,” You scold with a smile.

“You told me yourself I don’t go down easily... If you want to put me in my place you’re going to be more commanding.”

“And you would like that?” You ask in disbelief.

“Why don’t you find out...”

“Seokjin I-I don’t know if I-” You start to panic, stammering at the thought of going too far and becoming what others have thought of you before, “I don’t want you to hate...”

“If I need to stop I’ll tell you to brake. But right now I really want you to take the wheel, and put your foot down. No detours, just floor it.” He tightens his hold on you leaning in next to your ear with a growl. “Don’t get shy on me now. Give me your orders.”

The cheek in his tone at last sets off the need for retaliation in you, evoking a desire to finally see him begging you for more. He’s never backed away from you, leaving you with no reason to believe he’ll do so now. If this is what he wants you’ll be happy to try and make him submit. “You can start with losing this.” You tug on his grease stained shirt. “And these too.” Dragging your finger over the waist of his jeans.

He strips looking eager to play along. Leaving him in a pair of black boxers clinging to his swelling girth. “Like what you see?”

“You’ll do.” You snicker back at him. You take the back of his neck and pull him in for a kiss, as he moves to hold your lower back. He finds his way between your thighs once again but this time there’s nothing to stop you both from going further.

“Do you want to take those off?” You brush your hands on the elastic of his underwear.

“Yes.” His answer is short and sweet, with nothing to misinterpret. You could get used to this side of him.

“Then you’ll have to do something for me first.” You shift your pants down kicking them to the floor. Taking one last kiss of Seokjin’s lips before pressing his shoulders down to make his mouth level with your hips. The grin he gives is something to revel in, finally seeing it as a sign of desire rather than a farce.

He pulls your underwear to the side. The first lick is short and sweet causing you to flinch from the flick of his tongue. The second he takes care in following the line of your slit but he doesn’t pull away at the end, instead he latches on to your clit taking deep drags which pull you under in an instant.

Your hand reaches out to grip his hair needing something to hold on to and hold him back with if necessary, but once your fingers tug at Seokjin’s locks he moans into your flesh. His hands pull you closer to the edge of the car allowing him to bury himself even deeper.

He slowly gains a rhythm with his tongue and lips, but every time you come close, when your breathing becomes shallow he starts to pull back. He’s teasing you, clearly goading you to become more strict with your desires.

“No more games Seokjin. If you can’t get me there in the next minute, I promise you’ll regret it.”

He pulls away for a moment to draw breath while giving you a taunt. “I’d like to see that.”

He’s about to return to his task when you push him back, no longer giving him the chance at redemption. You point to a straight back chair facing away from you , “Sit down, with your head forward.”

He does as you ask with a smile still stuck to the corner of his mouth. You slide off the car and move behind him towards your work desk, stripping off your shirt, and undergarments as you stray from his line of sight. Grabbing something from the inventory closet before you return to him, still hiding from his gaze .

He tries to look back at you but you put a stop to that. “Did I say you could look around?”

“No ma’am.” He chuckles back.

“Since you like games so much I thought of one to play. Give me your hand, and tell me what I put in it without looking.”

“I don’t see what this has to do with-” You cut off his complaint quickly by placing the metal object in his hand reaching out behind him. “Handcuffs?” Seokjin questions with surprise. “I stand corrected, this seems like a fun game.”

“Put them on,” you order. He complies instantly, letting you check the tightness once he’s done. “Safey’s there if you need it. Just tell me to brake.”

“Oh no, I’m quite comfortable thank you.” He grins proudly as if this is what he was hoping for all along.

As you move in front of him finally gracing him with your nude form he stares back at you dumbfounded. You reach out to the corner of his mouth, which sits agape, wiping at the edge of his lips with your thumb. “Sorry I thought I spotted some drool.” Seokjin smiles at your mimicry and jab, but he has no words to follow with.

You kneel down in front of him, your hands trailing up to reach for his boxers. “May I?”

“Please do.”

You tug them down releasing his erection from the confines of the fabric. You're careful not to touch him, not wishing to give any satisfaction or stimulation. Once they’re pulled down to his ankles you move to the uninstalled backseat of the car sitting right across from him. Seokjin furrows his brow in confusion.

“Something wrong?” You prompt hoping to have him admit that he wants you to return to him.

“No, just admiring the view.”

“Really?” You persist in teasing him a little more, “Because it looks like you need something.”

“Only to know the next step in this game of yours.”

“You get to watch while I play.” You lay back on the car bench resting your feet on the soft leather. Your hand moving down between your legs picking up where Seokjin left off, with a slow rub to your crest.

“That seems unfair.” He flexes his arms, testing the cuffs as he watches you.

“That’s what happens when you don’t read the instructions, I get to make the rules.” He lets out a groan as you close your eyes ready to concentrate on your own pleasure. You know you’re wet enough already but for good measure and Seokjin’s torturous show you prep your fingers in your mouth before slipping the tip of your index finger inside yourself.

There’s a small whine from Seokjin, you look over to him, your eyes take a moment to focus on his face, his teeth digging into his now swollen bottom lip. “Let me help you, please.”

“That’s not how punishments work Seokjin. You had your chance, and you disobeyed.”

Giving him a side profile allows your thigh to hide the sight of your fingers dipping in. The sounds though, those are his to enjoy. You continue to satisfy yourself for a while longer enjoying the little jots of pleasure you can give yourself and Seokjin’s moan every time you twitch. It’s hard not to pay attention and give in to returning to him. With his cock pulsing against his leg with a drop of precum growing at the tip. His lip must be sore with how hard he’s biting down.

Unable to ignore his whimpers any longer you get up from the leather bench. You present your fingers to his mouth damp from your ministrations. You don’t even get the chance to ask before he takes them into his mouth and licks them clean. When you pull them from his lips, he beams back at you. “Was that attentive enough for you?”

“Very...” You commend him, straddling his legs facing him as you lower yourself. Your hand grips his cock while the other rests on his shoulder balancing yourself as you guide him inside.

He gasps out a swear along with your real name as you sink down fully onto his lap. You lean into him letting your chest push against his as you rise and fall on his shaft. Pressing and grinding yourself against his seated form has him throbbing inside of you. He’s quickly become a breathy mess beneath you, a sheen of sweat covers his forehead, with even more dripping down his pecs.

Your pace increases in speed as you edge closer to your climax. The warmth begins to spread to your extremities as you continue to thrust down. When the wave finally washes over you can barely move. “Fuck-” You whisper along with a plea. “Don’t you dare come yet.” You collapse against him riding it out, clenching while Jin groans.

“Take the cuffs off.” His moaning request is impossible to deny. As fun as it was to see him at your mercy you long to have his hands back on you.

You reach for the restraints behind his back, with a quick press of a hidden release he’s free. Wasting no time he grabs you, helping your legs to wrap around his waist. Positioning you securely against him, he rises to move two steps required in order to ram you back down onto the car bench.

He pulls one leg up and over his shoulder while he holds the other level with his hip. Despite your sensitivity, he’s relentless in his thrusts, pushing you directly from the wave you just finished and on to the next.

He’s so close to his end, his muscles tense, his face stern with a clenched jaw, it takes a moment for you to realize he’s waiting for your permission. He’s holding back until you give him the okay. “You can come Seokjin.” Upon hearing this his thrusts suddenly hit harder forcing you to cry out. “Fuck, please come.”

He shudders with the last impact. Releasing your legs, he lowers himself onto you while his cock still pulses inside. His head rests on the seat beside yours, the hot air from his heavy pants flows down your neck as you lay there trying to catch your own breath.

“I think we might have ruined the new car seat.” You chuckle at him, your laughter restricted by the pressure of his body on your chest. “I should probably order another.”

“And miss out on Hoseok’s expression when he realized what the stains are from?” He nudges closer, kissing the spot behind your ear with his swollen lips. “Not a chance.”

You start to drift beneath him content with the warmth and weight of his form. He gives you a few minutes rest caressing the side of your face with the tip of his finger before he poses an important question. “You’re still okay with me staying here then?”

You turn your head to meet his eyes with a smirk. “Yes, but you still have to earn your keep if you want a stay.” You gesture to the state that he’s left the workshop in, “In addition to cleaning up your mess.”

Seokjin briefly glances to the tools strewn along the ground and then back at you with a smirk. He then shifts his whole body down, dipping his head back between your legs. “Yes ma’am.” His tongue takes a long stroke, cupping your cum filled cunt. “Hope you don’t mind if I start here.”

#bts smut #seokjin smut #seokjin x reader #kim seokjin x reader #kim seokjin #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts fanfiction #bts reader insert #jin x reader #bts x reader #bts kingsman au #bts in need of orders #jin smut

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chibi-beaver · 3 years ago

Text

A Romantic Night in

Rating: Mature/Explicit (It straddles the line a bit)

Words: 3.7K

Fandom: Star Wars: The Bad Batch

Relationships: Hunter/Reader, Hunter & Omega

Characters: Hunter, Omega, You

Tags: Domestic fluff, Romance, Porn with plot (but like it's not terribly explicit most of the time), no y/n, little to no angst, FLUFF, female reader, established relationship, movie night, modern AU

Summary: You and your boyfriend Hunter have a fun night in after picking up Omega from soccer practice

(I don't usually write smut but it kinda just happened and I shocked myself with it lol)

Fic under the cut

You and Hunter were preparing your shopping list for the grocery store, going through the cupboards, seeing what was running low.

"I have an idea!" Hunter said.

"What is it?" You ask.

"You know you've wanted to have another date night, but we also have Omega tonight?"

"Yea" you respond. Omega was shared between Hunter and his brothers. She typically lives with Hunter but the others also get her throughout the week. She just spent Friday and Saturday with Tech and Wrecker, who recently moved out into their own apartment. You had a feeling that Tech thought the house was too full now that you were living there too. She also spent some time with Crosshair on Wednesday but his schedule was quite busy so she only spent time with him whenever he was not on a business trip.

"We should have a fun night in, we make some food, watch movies with Omega until she gets tired, and then after she goes to sleep, we can have our own movie date," Hunter said, as he hugged you from behind.

"That sounds like a great idea!" You say, turning your head to place a kiss on his cheek.

"We'll go pick up some stuff to make our favourite nachos, and some popcorn for Omega along with the rest of our groceries, then pick her up from soccer practice at 6:30, get her some dinner, and then we change into our PJs and watch movies," Hunter said. An ear-to-ear grin formed on his face as he described the plan. You smiled back as you felt some heat enter your cheeks. You then check your watch.

"Let's head out then, seeing as it's 5:30 and it takes us 20 minutes to get to the grocery store," you say.

"Yea, we should," Hunter said as he got the grocery note and the keys.

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

You got into the passenger seat while Hunter took the wheel. You plugged your phone into the AUX and started to play your favourite music.

"I didn't expect all this traffic at 5:30 on a Sunday night," Hunter remarked.

"Me neither," you said as you looked out the front window at all the cars.

"BUDDY! COME ON!" Hunter frustratedly said at the slow driver in front of him.

"Who does 45 kilometers an hour in a 70 zone?!" Hunter said.

"That guy apparently," you said as Hunter pulled into the other lane and passed him.

The rest of the drive to the store was relatively peaceful as Hunter's road frustration faded. He found a place to park and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Happy to be off the main road?" you asked.

"Yes! I hate slow and incompetent drivers," Hunter said as he turned off the car. The two of you got out, took your bags, and went into the store.

"What's on our list?" you ask as Hunter gets a cart.

"We need chicken, milk, popcorn, peppers, some fruit, yogurt, cheese, salsa, sour cream, and tortilla chips," Hunter said, reading off the note.

"Sounds like a plan," you say as Hunter walks closely behind you, pushing the cart as you start looking for the various items. You start in the produce section where you get your peppers and some of Omega's favourite fruits. She was in a strawberry phase lately so you made sure you picked up strawberries.

"We need to get her something new too," Hunter said.

You noticed some blackberries nearby.

"Has she tried blackberries?" you ask, gesturing towards the half-pint of blackberries that are on sale.

"I don't think," Hunter said as he saw them too.

"Let's get them," you said.

"Ok," Hunter said as he let you put it into the cart.

You then proceed into the aisle with chips in it.

"One-stop shop it seems," you remark as you see chips, popcorn, and salsa in the same aisle.

"Mild or medium?" Hunter asks as he looks at the salsas.

"Medium, I need a little kick damn it," you say.

Hunter chuckles. "Remember the last time we had medium salsa?" he asks, clearly teasing you.

"No, nothing out of the ordinary happened," you insisted.

"Pretty sure last time you were begging for milk because it was too spicy," Hunter said as he stepped closer to you.

You knew what he was referring to but you decided to take it in an entirely different direction.

"Are you referring to the outcome of our last movie date?" you ask with a smug look on your face.

Hunter's cheeks turned bright red.

"Uh, well" Hunter said, not sure how to finish that sentence. You knew that was not the direction he was taking it. The last time you had medium salsa was a while before your last movie date with Hunter. You tried it for the first time and couldn't handle the spice. The outcome of your last movie date, however, was certainly not appropriate to discuss in a public setting such as aisle 1 of a grocery store.

"Don't tell me you're trying to make a sexual innuendo out of that," Hunter whispered.

You simply smirked and winked at him.

"Let's just say that two can play that game, cyar'ika," Hunter whispered as he put medium salsa into the cart and started to take the cart further down the aisle to get some popcorn. Your cheeks soon matched the colour of Hunter's. You can't help it but you also can't explain why when he says that word, you become putty in his hands. Especially after you learned what that word means. It did something to you, in a good way of course.

You catch up to him as he is looking at the prices of the popcorn.

"Should we buy the bigger package or the smaller one?" Hunter asked.

"The bigger one is obviously the better deal," you say.

"Yea but we don't use a lot of popcorn," Hunter said.

"It's not like popcorn is a perishable item though," you counter.

"True," Hunter says as he puts the bigger package into the cart.

Your next stop was the meat and dairy sections of the store. You pick up a package of fresh chicken breasts. It was bigger than what you needed for your nachos but you were going to use it for meal prep for the week. You tried to bring lunch from home as much as possible to work, and you were hoping to pass that way of thinking to Hunter too.

Once you got to the dairy section, you were disappointed to see that the yogurt you and Hunter like is not in stock.

"Damn," you say as you look at the empty shelf.

"You got that right," Hunter says.

"I guess we'll need to look somewhere else for it another time," you say.

"True, just not tonight," Hunter says while chuckling.

"Yea," you reply as you pick up the sour cream and Hunter picks up the milk.

"Last item, cheese," you say as you proceed further down the dairy section and find a block of cheddar cheese on sale.

"Let's get this checked in," Hunter says as you proceed to a self-checkout.

You get out of the store in record time. Bless those self-checkouts, you thought as you got into the car. The next stop was to pick up Omega from soccer practice.

The traffic seemed to calm down a bit while you were in the grocery store, with the main roads only about half as busy. It took no time to get to the field that Omega goes to for practice.

"Just in time," Hunter said as he looked at the clock in the car, 6:20. You got out of the car to join some of the other parents who had just gotten there to pick up their kids. You could tell that Hunter was feeling a bit anxious. All the other parents, you could tell were actually the parents of their kids while Hunter was in a different situation. He and his brothers took up the mantle of caring for Omega because their mother works so much and their dad died before she was born. It's gotten so bad that Hunter and his brothers were made her guardians and their mother only shows she's involved by sending Hunter, his brothers, and Omega money. While Hunter was quite a bit older than his sister, he wasn't quite old enough to be her dad without someone questioning his age when she was born. Hunter was 17 when she was born and she's 8 now.

"Hunter!" Omega called out after her practice ended.

"Hey kid," Hunter said as he collected her.

"How was practice?" he asked as the three of you went back to the car.

"It was good. I scored a goal today!"

"Really? That's awesome! Wanna get a happy meal to celebrate?" Hunter said.

"YES YES YES!" Omega said.

"Glad to hear it, let's get to McDonald's," Hunter said.

"Hi, welcome to McDonald's. What can I get for you?"

"Hi, can I get a McNugget happy meal," Hunter said into the drive-thru window.

"Yep, would you like the girl toy or the boy toy?"

"Which one do you want?" you whispered to Omega.

"Boy toy!" she said.

"She wants the boy toy," you relay to Hunter.

"Boy toy please," Hunter said.

"Great, your total is $5.51, drive through."

"You get to the first window.

"I can pay," you offer.

"No, I'm paying," Hunter insisted.

"You just paid for groceries, I can pay," you said but it was too late, Hunter had already tapped his card. Looking at you the entire time with a smug look on his face.

You rolled your eyes as he pulled up to the second window and got the food. Omega was elated to get her nuggets and fries and immediately started eating them.

"Mind giving Hunter a fry?" Hunter asked.

"I do mind," Omega said as she kept eating her fries. You laugh as she says this and she joins in.

"Wow thanks," Hunter said sarcastically before saying "it's a long walk home," referencing that he's driving the car. You knew he wasn't being serious based on his tone of voice. He was just playing around.

Omega had finished her meal by the time you three got back home.

"Make sure you bring your garbage in," Hunter reminded Omega as he turned off the car.

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

Once you got into the house, Omega got into the shower while you and Hunter changed into your pajamas. Hunter quickly changed into his favourite pajamas, a black t-shirt with dull red camo pajama pants while you sifted through your pajama only to put on a pair of white shorts and a bright red t-shirt that had a faded logo of something on it. Omega still wasn't done in the shower when you both changed so you went downstairs and started making the nachos.

Your nachos called for grilled chicken breast that was liberally seasoned, diced bell peppers (colour doesn't matter), onions, jalapenos, and of course, lots of cheese. You started the chicken and grated the cheese while the chicken cooked. Meanwhile Hunter prepped the veggies. Hunter stole a few shreds of cheese before you smacked them out of his hands.

"Hey!"

"That's for the nachos!" you replied.

"Party pooper," Hunter said with a pout.

"It's better melted, trust me," you said.

Once the chicken was just cooked, you got the sheet pan ready with parchment paper and made a layer of chips. You put a thin first layer of cheese before adding the chicken.

"You got the veggies ready?" you asked.

"Just about," Hunter said.

Hunter then added the prepped veggies before you added a much thicker layer of cheese on top before sticking it into the oven.

"I love cooking with you," Hunter said as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

"Me too, when you and your big appetite aren't stealing some of the ingredients," you joked.

"You clearly haven't seen Wrecker's appetite."

"Fair enough," you replied.

"You know you love me anyways," Hunter said.

"I do," you said as Hunter left a few kisses on your neck.

You giggled as you heard Omega come downstairs. You pulled away from one another immediately.

"You wanna watch some movies wiht us?" Hunter asked.

Omega nodded her head.

"You want some nachos with us or do you want some popcorn?" Hunter then asked.

"Popcorn!" she said.

You smiled. You thought the kid was so cute sometimes.

Hunter put a bag of popcorn into the microwave, entering the time it says on the bag.

"Wanna help pick out a movie?" You asked.

"Sure!" Omega replied as you and her went to the couch and turned on the TV. You let her pick which streaming service she wanted. Of course she picked the one that had the most kids movies. Omega had her own kid friendly profile on every service you were subscribed to. She picked the same movie she always picks.

You got up for a minute to check on the nachos.

"I bet you can't guess what movie we're watching," you say, teasingly.

"It's the one about the lions again, isn't it?"

"Yep," you said as the microwave beeped. The popcorn was ready.

"I'll bring the popcorn in, you watch the nachos?" you ask.

"Sounds good babe," Hunter said as you emptied the popcorn bag into Omega's favourite bowl. This bowl was white with red stripes all over it. You think it might have been a Christmas bowl at some point with the candy cane like aesthetic. You put the bowl on the coffee table, closer to Omega in order to make room for the sheet pan of nachos. Hunter brings in bowls of sour cream and salsa before going back into the kitchen. You hear the oven open, meaning that he's bringing in the nachos.

"Wanna put on the movie?" you ask Omega.

"Yep!" she says as she picks up the remote and puts on her favourite movie.

Hunter sets the sheet pan down and sits on the right edge of the couch and puts his arm around you. You looked over at Omega, who seemed to be enjoying the opening scenes of the movie while eating her popcorn. You left Hunter's arms to take some nachos.

"mmmm" you quietly said as you ate your first bite.

"You're quite the cook," you whisper.

"Will there be any kisses for the cook tonight?" he whispers back.

"Maybe later," you say with a wink.

About a half hour later, Hunter noticed that Omega was out of popcorn but was looking at the nachos.

"Want some nachos?" he whispers.

Omega tried the nachos but didn't seem to be a fan of the peppers and picked them off.

Once the nachos were all gone you snuggled into Hunter for the rest of the movie. He kept his arm around you, rubbing your shoulder every once in a while, presumably to keep his hand from falling asleep. You rested your head on his shoulder and he started to play with your hair.

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

The movie ended about 1 hour and 40 minutes later, after which Omega wanted to go to sleep.

Hunter went upstairs with Omega while you cleaned up all the food. You groaned at the thought of washing dishes so you put them in the dishwasher instead and turned it on.

"That's a job well done," you say before heading back into the living room.

Hunter soon proceeded downstairs.

"You put her to bed?" you asked.

"Yea, she was quite tired after soccer practice and a movie," Hunter said.

"I'd say, hopefully she gets enough sleep so that she won't be tired at school tomorrow,"

"I hope," Hunter says as he sits back on the couch with you.

You pick up the remote and went into your own profile. Scrolling through movies before you and Hunter finally agreed on one. It was an action movie about a superhero. As the movie starts, Hunter wraps his arm around you while you rest your head on his chest.

Hunter kisses your forehead. You look up at him and kiss him on the lips.

"Finally some kisses for the cook?" Hunter asks.

"You betcha!" You said as you raised your self to be closer to Hunter's level to make kissing him a bit easier. He kept his arm around you but lowered it slightly so that his hand was toying with the bottom of your shorts. You run your hand through his hair as he moves his hand under your shorts, massaging your butt.

"Someone's feeling a little frisky tonight," you remark as you adjust your positioning to be straddling him. He allows this, guiding your legs into position.

"How can I not be?" he says once you're in the desired position.

His cheeks are growing redder as his hands explore your body. He has one hand holding your waist while the other is making its way under your shirt. He plays with your tits for a few minutes before moving that hand to your waist too. He holds onto you as he plants some kisses to your neck. You softly moan as his lips hit all the sensitive spots that he knows gets you off. He leaves your neck as you coax him back up to kiss you on the lips again. Neither of you hold back with the kiss, exploring one another with your lips and tongues.

Once you pull away from one another, you remove your shirt. Hunter collects the shirt and throws it on the floor before taking off his own shirt, with your asssistance. Your legs start to hurt from being bent for a while. Hunter notices this.

"Wanna switch around?" he asks.

You nod your head as the two of you get up from the couch. You get back onto the couch, this time laying down while he finds his way between your legs, placing himself on top of you.

He kisses your lips for a bit longer before going lower. His lips move to your neck, then your chest. He stays there for a few minutes, kissing your tits and using his hands to get you off. You could tell that he liked pleasing you. Every time he tried something, he gauged your reaction and continued accordingly. You could also feel him getting harder against your pelvis.

He moved towards your stomach and soon reached your pelvis. He put his hand down your shorts and searched for your clit. You'd admit that he wasn't perfect at finding it but at least he tried. You removed his hand for a minute to take off your shorts and throw them to the floor as he did with your shirt. You soon tugged at his pants strings.

"Go ahead cyar'ika", he said.

"You know I like it when you call me that," you admit.

"That's why I do it," he whispered.

You take off his pants and put them on the floor with your own clothes. He moves your panties to the side and starts kissing you more. You moan softly as he does that, tyring not to be too loud as to not wake Omega. Instead you ran your hands through Hunter's hair, grabbing some of it.

Hunter chuckled before saying, "I see someone is enjoying themselves."

He puts your panties back where they're supposed to be once you decide to return the favour. You pull down his underwear and let your lips and tongue do the work with your hands being of assistance at times. He too softly moaned as your tongue hit a sensitive spot.

"How does that feel, cyar'ika?" you ask. Hunter chuckles and you soon realize that you kinda butchered the pronouciation.

"I butchered that, didn't I?"

"Yea but I like it, maybe I can teach you the proper pronounciation sometime," Hunter said.

"I'd like that," you said as you moved upwards from your current position, placing your head level with Hunter's.

"I'm sure you would, cyar'ika," Hunter said as he kissed you on the lips once again.

You then removed each other's underwear. Hunter teases you for a few moments before giving you what you want. You wrap your legs around him as he moves in and out of you.

However, the couch is nowhere near the size of your bed and as you move around to change positions, you fall off the couch. Hunter soon also falls and lands next to you, moving the coffee table slightly so that he didn't hit it.

"Hopefully Omega didn't hear that," you say as you lay next to Hunter.

"I don't think she did, she's sound asleep by now," Hunter said.

The two of you then laugh at the predicament.

"You wanna keep going?" you ask.

"Definitely," Hunter said as he sat himself up against the couch. You decide to straddle him once again. You position yourself onto him while he pulls some couch cushions down and places two under your knees. He places his hands on your ass as you control the pace this time. He raised his legs to make you and him more comfortable. You lean down to kiss him. He reciprocates the gesture, meeting you halfway. The kiss becomes pretty deep before he pulls away and out.

He soon finishes, with your assistance. You sit on the floor next to him afterward.

"It seems this movie night ended similarly to last movie night," you comment.

"I certainly don't mind this outcome," Hunter comments.

"Of course you don't you dog," you tease.

"Don't lie, you're just as naughty," Hunter teases back.

"We should probably clean this up and go to bed," you say.

"I couldn't agree more," he says as the two of you get up.

The curtains are closed so you don't mind not putting your clothes back on as you and Hunter repositon the coffee table and put the cushions back properly before heading upstairs and quickly heading to your room. The two of you then get into bed. You lay on your side and Hunter soon joins, spooning you. You turn your head around to face him for a moment. He leans in and kisses you softly.

"Good night cyar'ika".

"You're gonna keep calling me that now, aren't you?"

"Yep. Goodnight. I love you."

"Goodnight, I love you too," you say as you begin to drift off to sleep.

#ao3 #fanfic #the bad batch #bad batch #bad batch Hunter #bad batch Omega #Hunter/reader #no y/n #female reader #oneshot #smut #fluff #little angst #established couple #why tf did I write 3.7k words in 4 hours? Because I can #I didn't intend to write smut when I started this project but it kinda just happened #oops

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wherevermyway · 4 years ago

Text

like covalence // binchan // oneshot // 18+

❄ part of yuki’s favourites! ❄

pairing: bang chan x seo changbin | past lee minho x seo changbin rating: explicit! 18+ warnings/tags: friends-to-lovers, past character death, angst, hurt/comfort, insomnia, explicit sexual content. also, this fic is soft as hell and i love it, okay? word count: 9,746 also on AO3

originally posted: 09 december 2020

Waking up in the middle of the night to surprise phone calls always caused a panic to arise in Chan. The last time he received a call so early in the morning, it was his best friend, Changbin. He was panicking because his boyfriend was admitted to hospital and was dying.

This phone call, however, isn't nearly as horrifying. Changbin is having a bad bout of insomnia, nightmares preventing him from sleeping, and he needs a little help. So, Chan offers to talk him through it. Neither of them, however, expect for their conversation to take such a dramatic turn.

Sometimes, two people are meant to be together, their attraction pulling them into each other to make something greater, like covalent bonds.

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction! any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable, please stop reading now.

Phone calls at two in the morning were never good. When Chan’s phone trilled, ripping him from his dream, he bolted upright, eyes still glued shut from sleep. He reached over to the nightstand, miscalculating the distance and mistaking it for his nightstand back home. A sleepy grumble rumbled in his throat as he pushed himself further and managed to half-open one of his eyes. The bright screen caused him to squint his half-open eyelid further closed in discomfort.

Changbin. Shit, why was Changbin calling him at two in the morning? The last time Changbin called him in the middle of the night… No, it was probably something minor. It had to have been minor.

Chan fumbled his thumb a bit, swiping his finger against the bottom of his phone to accept the call. “Bin? What happened?”

“Shit, I knew this was stupid,” a low voice echoed in Chan’s ear canal. “You…” the voice trailed off. The younger man cleared his throat on the other end of the line and sighed. “You said I could call you if I ever needed anything, right?”

“Did you get thrown in prison or something?”

“What? No, dude.” Changbin squeaked, then cleared his throat again, lowering his voice. “Why would you think that?”

Chan groaned, turning to the desk lamp on the nightstand, fumbling with the drawstring to turn it on. “It’s two in the morning. You don’t sound panicky, so I figured nobody died or some—” Oh. Chan’s eyes go wide, and he slaps his forehead as he realizes the gravity of what he just said. “Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Changbin decidedly ignores Chan’s statement, and is quiet for an extended pause. “I can’t sleep, Chan.”

“Again?”

There’s a whimper on the other line. “It’s getting out of hand, dude. I’m starting to see shit, hear things that aren’t there. I try so hard to fucking sleep, but whenever I close my eyes, I just feel so tense. I can’t stop thinking. He’s there, he’s everywhere. The dripping of his IV, the beeping of the machines, the alarms, how fucking pale he looked. God dammit.”

Chan settles up against the flat pillow of his hotel bed, bringing the back of his hand to his forehead as he stares up to the ceiling. “You’re having nightmares about Minho again, aren’t you?”

There’s a bit of a sniffle that comes from Changbin. “Yeah. I know it’s only been ten months, and I can’t imagine what I’m gonna be like when the anniversary comes around. All I know is that I miss him and it fucking hurts.”

“You’ll get through it, Binnie. I’ll be there with you once I’m back from this business trip in a couple of days.”

“That’s not gonna help me sleep right now, though.”

“I’d get on a flight back to Seoul right now if I could, just to smack you upside the head really good and knock you out that way.”

Both of them laugh. “That might be the nicest act of violence someone’s ever threatened me with,” Changbin quips.

“I do what I can.” A soft laugh comes from Chan. “I mean it, though. I’m here for you, Binnie. Let it all out. Maybe it’ll help you sleep.”

“Can I,” Changbin pauses, and there’s some shuffling on the other line. “It’s gonna sound kinda stupid, but I wanna see your face. Are you decent enough for video?”

Chan’s face flushes, and he runs his lips in between his teeth for a moment, releasing them with a pop. “Yeah. Hair might be a mess, though.”

“Your hair’s always a mess.”

“Man, fuck you.” They laugh again, and Chan pulls his phone away from his face, tapping a couple of buttons on screen. “Gimme a sec and… okay, there.” There’s nothing but black on Chan’s phone for a bit. Shortly after that, there’s some shuffling and choice words coming from Changbin’s line as he turns a light on.

Chan sees what he assumes to be Changbin’s ceiling, until the younger man comes back into view, grabbing his phone, running fingers through his black hair. “I wasn’t expecting that without notice. You could’ve warned me,” he whines. There’s a bit of a glare reflecting on his glasses for a moment as he flops down onto his pillow. “Man, you look pretty out of it.”

“You woke me up at two in the morning, dude, what were you expecting?” Chan rolls his eyes, feigning irritation, but the way a smile creeps up on his face, showing off the dimple in his cheek, throws any sense of seriousness out of the window. “Those bags under your eyes aren’t helping you, either.”

Changbin frowns and flips off the camera. “You’re an asshole.”

“I could hang up the phone right now,” Chan shrugs.

“Please,” Changbin’s face twisted into a pout, “don’t hang up on me.” There was a sadness reflected in his eyes, something that looked like it had been building up for a while. The younger man turned onto his side, towards the light on his desk, and a tear fell down the side of his face. “Sorry, I know you were joking, it’s just… I’m tired of being alone, Chan.”

The older man pursed his lips, knitting his brows together as he shifted into a more comfortable position. “You’re never totally alone, Bin, you know? I’m here for you. I might not be able to be there right now with you, but I—”

“Can I move in with you?”

The question caught them both off guard.

“Wait, shit,” Changbin shook his head and groaned, burying his face into his pillow. “That was horrible timing. Fuck.”

Chan scoffed. “Of course you can move in with me. That sounds kinda nice, actually,” he smiled, showing off a bit of his teeth. “My apartment’s been quiet lately, anyways. Should probably try and settle down at some point, but I can’t seem to find the right person. While Jisung sure wasn’t good for me, I have to admit that it’s been so quiet since he’s been gone.”

“Oh, god,” Changbin awkwardly laughs, pulling his sweatshirt up over his chin and nibbles on the inner seam of the tip of the fabric. “You and Jisung,” his voice is slightly muffled through the sweatshirt, “you two were a clusterfuck of bad ideas. He was definitely not the right person for you.”

The older man scowls, staring directly at the tiny camera on his phone. “Come on, we weren’t that bad.”

“Chan,” Changbin stresses, rolling his eyes. “I really don’t need to remind you of the time you showed up at my apartment — unannounced, mind you — shortly after midnight, because you found out he was cheating on you the first time.”

“Alright, fine, I’ll give you that.” Chan shrugs. “That was over a year ago, though.”

“He cheated on you three times and you went back twice, dude. Twice!” They look at each other over the phone, and Changbin tuts, shaking his head in disapproval. “I’m glad you didn’t go back the last time.”

“Me too,” the older man huffs, then rolls on to his stomach. “He’s dating a new guy now. Some bakery owner. Think his name was Felix?”

Changbin drops the sweatshirt from his mouth and rolls onto his back. “At least he’s out of your hair now. You should seriously stop stalking him on social media.”

“I’m not stalking him!” Chan pleads, “Seungmin’s the one that told me when me met up a couple weeks ago. He thinks he’s doing me a favour by keeping tabs on my ex so that I don’t have to, or some shit.”

“You’ve got some weird friends.”

“You’re easily the weirdest of the group.” Chan smiles. “Kinda why I like you, though.”

Changbin’s eyes go wide for a very brief moment, easy to miss with how quickly it happened. He nervously laughs and looks away from his phone. “Yeah,” he says without confidence, rubbing his hand against his forehead.

“What?” Chan cocks his head to the side. “Should I not’ve called you weird?”

“Nah,” Changbin shakes his head and smirks, bringing his free hand down his face, covering his cheek and part of his mouth with his sleeve. “It’s fine, I am weird, it doesn’t bother me.”

“Why are you acting like it bothered you, then?”

Changbin waves his hand in front of his phone. “It’s nothing, dude. You’re reading too much into it. Anyway, don’t you have to work early tomorrow? I really shouldn’t be keeping you up so late.”

“Stop it,” Chan firmly presses and frowns. His tone causes Changbin to recoil and turn into himself a bit. “Don’t ever apologize for needing me. We’re best friends, this is what we do. So what if I’m a little tired for work tomorrow? I’ll get coffee and deal with it. You’re my best fucking friend and I’ll do anything for you. I can’t take away your pain, so this is the next best thing I can try to offer.”

“Chan,” Changbin starts, his eyes starting to turn glossy again. He opens his mouth to speak, but instead shakes his head, rolling onto his side and buries his face into his pillow. He drops his phone and Chan assumes that he’s about to start crying.

The older man stifles a sigh. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Changbin.”

“It’s not that, it’s just…” Changbin chokes a bit and muffles something incoherent into his pillow. Chan lets him unravel a bit, knowing that his friend clearly needs it.

The younger man never really showed his emotions to most people; Chan and Minho were likely the only two people that had seen Changbin cry so openly. He put on a tough exterior, only letting it fall just enough around their friend group. Until recently, Chan had only seen him cry a couple of times: once, when he got mad at Chan for going back to Jisung after being cheated on the first time; the second time was when Minho had died. Changbin had collapsed at his hospital bed and completely broke down.

Losing Minho really damaged Changbin. He had steeled himself further in never being outwardly emotionally vulnerable, but in response to suppressing his emotions so dramatically, he broke down like this more often than he would admit. There had been numerous times where Chan had called or stopped by, and it was obvious Changbin had been crying. His voice would be raspy, his eyes bloodshot, face flushed, and he was unusually withdrawn and reserved.

After a bit, Changbin cleared his throat. He didn’t pick up his phone, but continued the conversation as if nothing happened. “Sorry,” he chokes out, then clears his throat. “I don’t know what I did to get lucky enough to have a friend like you. I just,” the younger man sighs and his lips vibrate against each other with a hum, “you and Minho are the world to me, and now Minho is gone. I’ve only got you. I love you, man.”

“I love you too, Changbin.” There was a burning building up in Chan’s chest, almost like he wanted to cry because he knew that his friend was so miserable; it felt like he was going through the emotional turmoil himself. “If I could take away the pain of your loss, I would.”

“I couldn’t put you through that, dude.” Changbin picks up his phone, pointing it back down to his reddened face. “You know, I watched a movie once. Don’t remember what it was called, but there was a quote that stuck with me for a while.” He looks far past the camera, up towards the ceiling. “I didn’t really get it until after Minho died. The quote was something like, ‘there’s a poem at the temple called loss. It has only three words that the poet has scratched out, since you cannot read loss, only feel it.’ It hurts, but it’s true.”

“We watched that movie together, you dumbass,” Chan scoffed, then laughed. “Memoirs of a Geisha or something.”

“Oh,” Changbin laughs softly, biting his lip. “That was our in-house double date, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Chan smiles, fondly looking back on the memory, and how Changbin seemed so happy with Minho. His smile was so bright, so carefree, so full of light and love, so much softer than it was now. “Minho picked the movie at random and none of us were really paying attention to it because we got kinda drunk. It was fun, though.”

A smile spreads across Changbin’s face. “That was a good time. Jisung was kind of annoying that night, but you looked really happy with him.”

“He was just awkward. Barely knew you two, so I can’t really blame him.”

A tsk. “Dude, you gotta stop defending him,” Changbin cocks his eyebrows and shakes his head. “Look, I should’ve told you sooner, but you always deserved better than him. I always thought he was so shallow and one-sided. Like, he never looked at you like you were his first priority in life.”

Chan tries to think of something to say in response, but simply shrugs his shoulders. “I guess you’re right.”

“I know I’m right, dude. You need someone that loves you like—” Again, Changbin’s eyes go wide, as if he catches himself about to say something stupid, then he shakes his head. “Someone that loves you like you truly deserve. Like you’re their reason for waking up in the morning, someone that’s always happy to see you and will accept you for who you are, no matter what. Chronically messy hair included.”

A gnawing feeling envelopes Chan’s abdomen, causing him to feel a bit uneasy. “Someone like a best friend,” he mutters, then quickly realizes how that comes off and corrects himself, ��someone like Minho was to you, yeah?”

Changbin nods, but there’s a strange tension between them now. They stare at each other with slight nervousness behind their eyes. “Like Minho, yeah, or,” Changbin says each word as clearly as possible, looking like he was carefully thinking over what he was saying, “someone like a best friend.” The words came out slowly, with calculus. He knew what he had said, and exactly how it was going to be interpreted.

The feeling in Chan’s stomach had ballooned across his entire torso as he realized what was really happening between the two of them. “Changbin,” he manages to squeak out, nearly dropping his phone on his face from how badly his palms had started to sweat. “There’s something I’ve gotta ask.” Chan sits upright, too enveloped in the moment to pay attention to how he looks on camera.

Changbin sits up, too. He brings the hem of his sleeve up to his mouth and anxiously chews at it as he nods. “What is it, Channie?”

The older man tenses at the nickname rolling off his friend’s tongue. Changbin very rarely ever called him Channie, and that somehow made him all the more nervous. “I,” he stutters out, “maybe I’m just reading into this too much, but there’s something happening here, isn’t there?”

“Something…” Changbin shrinks into himself a bit, looking down at his sleeve.

They sit in awkward silence for several moments too long. The discomfort was overtaking Chan, and he felt like he was about to explode, until he decided he couldn’t take it anymore. He let all of his pent up thoughts spill from the bottom of his heart. “It started before Minho. Years before Minho, I know it. Back at the end of high school.”

The younger man peers over the frames of his glasses, but doesn’t move, nor does he say anything.

“I think we were too stupid to realize it when we were younger. Probably too afraid to act on it and fuck up our friendship. God,” Chan wipes his face, not realizing that the nervousness of pouring out all of his feelings had caused a couple of tears to spill from his eyes. “You started dating Minho after we started our senior year of university. I remember you being really scared about it, saying you were worried you weren’t the right person for him, but now I think you were worried he wasn’t the right person for you.”

Changbin buries his face into his elbow, saying nothing.

The burning in Chan’s abdomen starts to alleviate a bit, like a knot is unravelling, but the nervousness still courses through his veins. He was in too deep to stop now. “You got lucky with him, and I know you loved him as much as he loved you. You deserved someone like him, Binnie, you really did. It was unfair that Minho was taken from you so early.”

A choked noise comes up from Changbin as he drops his phone, the camera angled in such a way that Chan can see him pull his knees into his chest as he tries to avoid crying again.

“I know you miss him, and you should. But you’ve been running to me a lot ever since you lost him. I don’t believe it’s because you have no one else to turn to, nor do I think it’s an unhealthy thing. Clearly, we trust each other a lot.” Chan took in a long, deep shaky breath. There was no turning back, so he was going to pull out all of the stops. “You’re my best friend, Changbin. I love you and that’s never gonna change. But, it’s only fair that you know that I love you as more than just a friend, and I’m gonna guess that you love me like that, too, even if you don’t admit it.”

“Channie,” the younger man whines, still curled up in himself.

“You know I’d do anything for you, Bin. I’ve always said that, and I’m always going to mean it. I’m gonna say it again, and I want you to hear it clearly: I love you, Changbin.”

There are tears rolling down Chan’s face, now. Not tears of sadness, but tears of relief. The knot that had been coiled up inside of him for years had finally unravelled, causing all of the tension built up inside of him to finally release.

“I,” Changbin lifts his head from his elbow, then shakily reaches for his phone, bringing it up to his face. “I love you, too. I have for so long, but I didn’t realize that’s what it was until after Minho died. I just thought I was being an idiot about my feelings, and..” His voice trails off, and he closes his eyes, shaking his head. “I didn’t wanna lose you, Channie.”

“You idiot,” Chan scoffs, wiping his face. “It’d take a lot more than that to scare me away. We know too many dark secrets about each other to have something threaten our friendship like that.”

“You mean too much to me,” the younger man whines, tucking his chin into his chest. “It sounds nice, though.”

“What does?”

“You telling me that you love me. It feels different now, but I love hearing it.” Changbin flops backwards onto his pillow, turning his head to the side so he can rest his phone against the pillow as he closes his eyes. “It’s like the way a satisfying chord hits in a song and you just feel warm in your entire body.”

Chan hums, gently rolling onto his back, imitating Changbin’s positioning. “That’s oddly specific.”

A grin spreads on the younger man’s face. “I haven’t slept in thirty-six hours, dude. Let me be weirdly specific.”

“Changbin,” Chan whispers with a smile.

“Hmm?” Changbin cocks his head upward.

“Look at me.”

The younger man whines as he opens his eyes. “What?”

“I wanted you to see my face when I tell you that I love you.”

There’s a soft shade of scarlet that tints Changbin’s face as he parts his lips, mentally replaying the words over in his head. “Say it again.”

“I love you, Changbin.”

“Yeah,” the younger man closes his eyes again, smiling widely. “I love you too, Chan.”

“I suppose that does sound good, doesn’t it?”

Changbin softly nods his head and hums.

“Are you falling asleep on me?” Chan’s eyes grow heavy as he watches Changbin slowly melt into his pillow.

“No,” the younger man whines, pulling his brows together, as if he were going to protest. “Insomniacs don’t sleep, stupid.”

Chan smiles a bit and nuzzles his cheek against his pillow. “Yeah, yeah,” he closes his eyes and listens to Changbin’s breathing on the other line. “Insomniacs…” his voice trails off as he drifts into sleep.

“Fuck!” Chan bolts upright in a cold sweat as the soft rays of dawn start to pour into his hotel room. He looks over his shoulder at the digital clock, reading 05:47. Once he realizes he hasn’t slept through his alarm, like he did in his dream, a sigh of relief escapes his lips. He unceremoniously flops back down onto his pillow, grabbing his phone to watch Changbin.

The younger man is still asleep, covering his face with his elbow. Some soft snoring can be heard if Chan really focuses on it, and taking in the moment warms his heart. There’s a moment where Chan realizes something, and he gets a look of determination on his face as he taps around on his phone.

“Oh, that’s perfect timing.” He mutters some other words incoherently to himself as he continues tapping away until he sends off something and relaxes. “Well, that’ll take care of that.”

Changbin didn’t mean to pass out on the line, but it was inevitable. For the first time in months, he actually felt relaxed enough to sleep for longer than a couple of hours at a time. His eyes fluttered open, greeted by the sunlight from his window. It felt later than Changbin expected as he stared out at the Seoul skyline. He sleepily reached for his phone, not surprised that the call had been terminated.

It was 09:13. He had a mass of texts from Chan, which he immediately opened after he unlocked his phone.

06:57 | chan: ok so i’ll admit i’ve been up for a while just staring at you, watching you sleep and it’s just 06:58 | chan: holy shit that sounds really creepy without context… whatever 06:59 | chan: i don’t know what to say 07:00 | chan: i love you binnie 07:01 | chan: sorry i have to cut our video call short before you wake up but i’m glad you finally slept for once 07:02 | chan: i’ve got a busy day ahead of me but we should chat later, yeah? 07:02 | chan: gonna say it again just because i can, you can’t stop me 07:03 | chan: no, literally, you can’t because you’re asleep lol 07:04 | chan: wow that was a stupid joke. anyway! 07:04 | chan: i love you, text me when you wake up

“Oh,” Changbin whispers to himself. Memories of the night prior had started to flood back up, causing him to flush in slight embarrassment. He really admitted that he was in love with his best friend, and he hadn’t just dreamt of it. It was completely unexpected, but he welcomed it with open arms.

He shot off a quick “morning, love you too, weirdo” text to Chan, still nervous over what exactly to say. Honestly, the encounter last night felt a bit like a fever dream, caused by his insomnia. He figured that he had exaggerated a bit of it, but these texts confirmed how real it all was.

Changbin stared at the ceiling for longer than he’d like to admit, eventually shifting his way to his feet, shuffling away to his washroom to shower. As he stripped his clothes off, nearly ready to step into the warm shower, his phone vibrated against the porcelain of the sink. Normally, he would have ignored it, but on the off chance it was Chan, he didn’t want to risk missing it.

09:40 | chan: “insomniacs don’t sleep” huh? 09:40 | chan: are you working today?

A bit of a grin curls up on Changbin’s face as he reads Chan’s messages. He shoots off a “nope, stuck at home so you should call me when you’re free” text, then sets his phone down on the sink before retreating off into the shower.

His shower is brief, just enough to quickly wash off. It couldn’t have been more than maybe eight minutes before Changbin was back out on the cool linoleum floor, rubbing a towel around his head, then wrapping it around his waist. As soon as the towel is securely tucked around him, he grabs his phone to see he’s missed two calls from Chan. He wastes no time returning the call, surprised when Chan picks up on the second ring.

“Changbin!” The excitement in Chan’s voice startles Changbin a bit. “I thought you said you didn’t have to work today?”

“I don’t,” the younger man grumbles, “I just wanted to take a quick shower. Didn’t think you were gonna be so quick to call me.”

“You said you’re staying home today, right?”

Changbin squints as he looks at himself in the mirror, parting his hair with a comb. “Yeah, I mean, I usually do on Sundays. Why?”

“What are you doing right now?” Chan sounds a bit too excited over the phone, causing Changbin to feel a bit suspicious.

“I just told you, dude,” he sighed, setting the comb down on the countertop. “I was showering, saw I missed a couple calls from you, so I’m standing in the washroom, freezing myself half to death because I didn’t grab any clothes to put on right after.”

There’s a deep breath on the other line. “Changbin,” Chan starts, his voice a bit nervous.

“What?”

“You should go to your front door.”

Changbin furrows his brows in confusion, shaking his head a couple of times. “Why?”

“Would you just trust me? Go on, just go.”

The younger man opens his mouth to protest, but the line goes dead. Changbin pulls his phone away from his ear, staring at the “call terminated” message on his screen before it disappears. “What a fucking weirdo,” he grumbles to himself, but makes his way out of the washroom and towards the front door anyways. “This is dumb,” but yet, he still unlocks his front door and opens it. He looks down at the ground, seeing nothing, then pulls the door back, looking at the front of it and, again, sees nothing.

“The fuck? Goddammit, Chan.” Admittedly, Changbin had gotten his hopes up that something or someone would be there because, honestly, why else would Chan have called him to tell him that, then hang up on him? As he slipped back behind the door, moving to close it, a familiar voice stopped him in his tracks.

“You know,” the voice chirps up from around the corner, and Changbin’s eyes go wide, “I did say I’d come by and smack you upside the head to knock you out, but you already slept. Guess I’ve gotta come up with something new, huh?” Chan came around the corner, wearing a cocky grin as he made eye contact with a very surprised Changbin.

“I thought,” the younger man shakes his head in shock, “you weren’t supposed to be back for… how are you even?”

Chan shrugged his shoulders and waved a hand in the air. “I may or may not have fabricated a bit of a lie, saying that someone I knew was sick and I needed to come back to Seoul to take care of them. They didn’t need me there to begin with, anyways.”

The air between them is tense, but not with a nervous tension. There’s a pining energy between both of them, causing Changbin to take an inviting step back as Chan steps forward into his apartment. He swallows hard, letting go of the door as he backs up into the wall. “So, this person that’s sick, I assume you mean that’s me?”

The older man closes the distance between them, and the front door slams shut. “Yeah,” Chan lowers his voice. “Guess you’ve come down with something.”

“That’s a drag,” Changbin’s voice quivers a bit with nervousness, yet he confidently looks up at Chan. “Suppose I need someone to help take care of me with whatever I’m sick with, huh?”

Chan takes his hands, placing one on Changbin’s hip, and places the other one on the side of his neck. The touch causes the younger man to shiver and melt into his hand, softly exhaling. “Lovesickness,” Chan whispers with a coy smirk on his face, craning his head down next to Changbin’s ear. “There’s only one thing that cures that.”

Changbin wants to laugh at the stupidity of how cheesy that sounded, but instead, he found himself bringing his hands up to Chan’s back, digging his fingers into the soft cotton of his shirt. He gently rubs his cheek against the older man’s, whispering into his ear. “How are you going to cure me?”

“With this kind of sickness,” a quiet tsk comes from Chan, and it causes the hairs on the back of Changbin’s neck to rise, “the only thing I can do is give aggressive treatment.”

Before Changbin can make a proper comeback, Chan takes the hand around the younger man’s neck, sliding his thumb around his jawline to get a steady grip. The older man pulls back, making brief eye contact with Changbin before he hastily brings their faces together, crashing their lips against each other.

There’s soft electricity that bounces between the two of them, like this moment was meant to happen for so long, and there was finally a delicious payoff. Changbin expected more awkwardness between them for their first kiss, but everything just blended together. He drags a hand up to Chan’s neck, pulling him in closer.

Chan chuckles against Changbin’s lips, opening his mouth a bit as an invitation. The younger man wastes no time pressing his tongue forward, rolling it around cautiously against the older man’s tongue. He accidentally lets out a bit of a whine, which causes Chan to pull the two of them together, subconsciously grinding up against one another.

Changbin pushes up against Chan, bringing his hands down the older man’s body, down to his hands. He pulls away from the kiss, tugging at Chan’s hands. “Come on,” he whispers, “I don’t wanna wait anymore.”

“Impatient, are we?” Chan grins, not budging as Changbin tries to pull him along.

“It just feels,” there’s a pause as Changbin sheepishly looks down at his feet. “Feels like it should happen, you know?”

Chan shakes his head and scoffs. He pulls back, then ducks down and scoops Changbin up under his knees and pulls him off the floor and into his chest.

“The fuck are you doing?” Changbin practically shouts, eyes wide with panic as he’s hoisted up into the air.

“Working on giving you what you want, duh.”

Changbin huffs in embarrassment, but still wraps his arms around Chan’s neck. “Awfully brash of you, don’t you think? We’re not even dating, dude.”

“Oh, come on. You were thinking about this, too. You literally just said it feels like it should happen,” Chan scoffs as he maneuvers them both through the bedroom door. “Like not dating someone ever stopped either of us from sleeping with people in university. If you’re worried I’m gonna see you naked and be upset,” he pauses, gently placing Changbin onto his bed before crawling over him. “Well, I mean, really, every time we’ve gone to the gym together? Really?”

“Your arrogance truly knows no bounds,” Changbin frowns as he quips.

“Admit it,” Chan smirks, “it’s a big reason you love me, isn’t it?”

The words cause Changbin’s brain to short circuit for a minute before he rapidly blinks himself back to reality. “Yeah,” he sputters out, “yeah, I love you. All of you. Your stupid arrogance and all.”

It’s apparent that Chan wasn’t expecting such a serious response, but he smiles genuinely down to Changbin. “I love you too, Binnie.” He presses a quick peck to Changbin’s forehead, then pulls back and grins. “It’s way better saying that in person.”

“It’s better hearing it in person, too,” Changbin reaches his hands up to Chan’s face, pulling him back down for a proper kiss. “It’s not fair, though,” he whines in between kisses, “you’re a bit overdressed for the occasion.”

“That so, eh?” Chan pulls back, sitting on his heels. “Guess we’re gonna have to do something about that.”

Changbin sits up and cocks an eyebrow and smirks with arrogance. “Way ahead of you.” He reaches down to the bottom of Chan’s shirt and pulls it up, the older man easily complying with his nonverbal demand. Changbin haphazardly tosses the shirt to the floor, then catches himself staring a bit too long at Chan’s torso. “Oh,” he manages to breathe out. “I must not have looked at you close enough the last time we worked out, because this definitely would have gotten stored in my head for later.”

“For later?” Chan smirks.

“Wait,” Changbin vigorously shakes his head and his face reddens. “No, no, no, not like that. I mean, yeah, I would be lying if I said I didn’t think about it, but I wouldn’t just…” He stops speaking, and sighs heavily, burying his head in his hands with embarrassment. “Fuck.”

“You think about me, hmm? You only think about me, or is there something more to that blush you're trying to cover up?”

There’s an awkward pause between them, and Changbin grumbles something to himself before speaking coherently. “Goddammit. Fine, yeah. But only, like, a couple of times.”

Chan reaches forward, gently pulling Changbin’s wrists away from his face, forcing them to make eye contact. “Guess it’s only fair to tell you that the feeling’s mutual,” he whispers.

“What? Seriously?”

“Yeah, but that’s not important right now, not when I’ve got the real thing in front of me.” Chan shrugs and presses a quick peck to Changbin’s lips, then continues offering small kisses down his jawline to his ear. He takes the lobe between his teeth and softly nibbles on it. “Tell me about what you think about when you think of me. Maybe I’ll make it happen.”

Changbin squirms, gasping softly as a jolt runs through him when Chan rolls the sensitive flesh between his teeth. “All I can think about is the fact that you’re still overdressed,” he manages to speak, his voice airy and distracted. Changbin’s clammy fingers tremble as they dance down Chan’s shoulders, down his torso. “You wouldn’t be this dressed if I were to think something distasteful about you. Hypothetically, of course.”

“Hmm,” Chan steadies himself on his knees, reaching down to grab Changbin’s wrists. He pulls them up and brings the younger man’s arms above his head, looking down with confidence. “Have a little patience.”

“I don’t wanna be patient.” Changbin pauses, darting his eyes down, pursing his lips together. “I’ve been waiting for what feels like years, Chan.” His words come out at a low voice as he nervously mutters down into his chest.

Chan must have picked up on the nervousness the man beneath him was feeling. He takes one of his hands and gently lifts Changbin’s chin up. “Look at me,” he whispers as they make eye contact. “Trust me, I’ve been waiting for this for a while, too. I don’t wanna fuck it up,” he sighs and his confident aura drops a bit, “and I guess I’m a little nervous, too.”

Changbin frowns slightly. “Are you hesitating?”

“A little bit, I guess?” Chan shakes his head and shrugs. He scans Changbin’s eyes over a few times, then starts to pull back.

“No,” Changbin interrupts, taking his free hand and quickly pulling Chan in closer to him by the back of his head. They crash their lips together in an awkward, rough kiss. Chan lets go of Changbin’s wrist, softly caressing the younger man’s face as he pushes deeper into the kiss. “You wanna know what I think about?”

“What?” Chan’s response comes out muffled against Changbin’s lips.

Changbin takes Chan’s wrist, guiding his hand down to his neck. “I think about how your hands would feel here,” then he drags the hand down to his sternum, “how your fingernails would scratch against me here.”

Almost as if on reflex, Chan digs his fingers into Changbin’s skin, grazing them down ever so softly. “Like that?”

A soft gasp comes between Chan and Changbin in response. “Yeah,” the younger man breathes, letting go of Chan’s wrist. “I think about how your nails would feel as they dragged down my stomach, all the way down…”

Chan continues trailing his fingers down, as if Changbin’s words were a set of instructions. “Then what?” His fingers stop at the younger man’s hip bones, and he dips his thumb into the corner of the bone, causing Changbin to arch his back and break away from the kiss with a strangled cry.

“Fuck,” he whines, “I wasn’t expecting that.” He dips his head back down, looking up to the older man with nervousness and excitement.

“Well, what’s next?” Chan cocks his head to the side, brushing his thumb against the skin above Changbin’s hip bone. “What do you want?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Changbin whines, rolling his hips up into Chan’s touch. “I want you, Chan.”

For a fleeting moment, a soft smile appears on Chan’s face, before he takes his hand and slides it down, hooking into the towel around Changbin’s waist. This causes the younger man’s eyes to go wide. He licks his lower lip, then nibbles on it as he anxiously nods. “Please,” he whines.

Chan tugs at the taut towel, eventually causing it to unravel. Changbin sighs in approval, letting his eyes flutter shut. He keeps his eyes closed until he feels the bed shift and sees Chan rifling through his nightstand. “What are you doing?” He grumbles, frowning at the distraction. “Why are you going through my shit? Are you looking for something?”

“Yeah,” Chan bites his tongue as he sifts through various papers and paraphernalia in the drawer. “Where the fuck is your lube?”

“Have you ever thought about asking, dude?” Changbin rolls his eyes and moves to the nightstand on the opposite side of the bed. “You really think I’m dumb enough to keep it in the nightstand that’s close to my bedroom door?”

“Come on,” Chan pulls back a bit, desperately trying not to let his eyes wander down. He watches Changbin rifle through his belongings, as he brings his fingers to the waistband of his jeans. The button pops out of the hole effortlessly, and he can’t help but feel relieved as he tugs the zipper down, giving his erection a little bit of relief as it presses up against his boxer briefs.

“Here,” Changbin says, tossing the bottle of lube over towards Chan, not realizing that he wasn’t prepared to catch it. The bottle smacks Chan in the chest and falls just to the side of Changbin’s legs, somehow, thankfully missing any tender areas.

“Ow,” Chan rubs his chest and glares at the younger man. “Why the fuck did you throw it at me?”

Changbin, however, doesn’t respond. He finds himself too distracted by the way the colour of Chan’s navy briefs complements his skin. His head slowly tilts to the side and he stares at the outline of Chan’s cock against his underwear and he blinks a couple of times.

“Why are you staring?” Chan tuts, resting his hand on his hip. “You’ve seen it before.”

“Context,” Changbin shakes his head and stares up at Chan in disbelief before he sits upright, getting into the older man’s face. “Yeah, I’ve seen it, but like, I’ve never seen it like this. Not hard, and definitely not hard for me.”

A bit of a smile creeps up Chan’s lips. “You don’t know that. Maybe you didn’t pay enough attention before.” He winks as he hooks his thumbs into his jeans and underwear, making deliberate eye contact as he slowly pulls the clothes down.

It’s obvious that Changbin is desperately trying not to watch Chan’s clothes sink to the bed, pooling down at his knees. “I’m paying attention now, though.”

“I can tell. Now,” Chan grabs the lube next to Changbin’s leg and takes a finger, pushing it against the younger man’s chest, “lie down, so I can give you what you want.”

Changbin rests back on his elbows, still trying to maintain eye contact with Chan. “What makes you think I belong down here? Maybe I’d rather ride you?”

“Oh, please,” Chan rolls his eyes as he squeezes some lube onto his fingers, then haphazardly discards the bottle to the side of the bed. “I know you too well. You’re an observer, not a performer. You’d rather be down there watching me put in all the effort.” The older man winks and slides his fingers between Changbin’s legs.

A frustrated huff comes from Changbin as he lies fully on his back. “Yeah, yeah,” he frowns. “I guess you have a point. I’m not always like that, though. Besides, this lack of sleep has me exhausted, so I really don’t wanna put in too much energy.”

Chan raises one of his eyebrows as he teasingly rubs a finger around Changbin’s entrance, eliciting a soft gasp from the younger man. “You know,” he whispers as his index finger slowly glides inside, “I did just get on an hour-long flight on very little sleep to come and see you. I even lied to my boss, saying you were sick. Maybe I don’t wanna put in effort either, and maybe I do wanna watch you ride me.”

Changbin’s eyes shut tightly as he loses himself in the sensation of how Chan’s finger explores his insides. “We agreed, though,” he breathes out and grips the sheets underneath him, “lovesickness, or whatever stupid cheesy thing you came up with. You said you were going to ‘aggressively treat’ me, or something like that.” He opens one of his eyes and looks up at Chan. “So do it. Show me what you’re gonna do.”

“Oh, I’ll show you what I’m gonna do, all in good time. I do have to commend you, though,” Chan tuts as he slides his middle finger inside, causing Changbin to choke on his own saliva, “you’re a lot bolder than I expected you would be in the sheets. Always pinned you as the pillow princess type, and you’re kinda proving my point.”

“Fuck you,” Changbin shakes his head and growls at Chan. “I am not a pillow princess.”

Chan slips his middle finger completely inside and grins as Changbin’s cocky demeanour falters a bit in reaction. “You totally are. You wanna roll your head back and let go completely right now, that much is obvious. You’re just pretending to channel some arrogant energy and I see right through it.”

“I hate you,” Changbin spits through his teeth as he reaches up to Chan’s shoulders, gripping them tightly.

“No, you don’t.”

Changbin rolls his eyes and shoves Chan back a bit, then rolls him around onto his back, causing the older man’s fingers to slide out of him. “You specifically riled me up because you knew I’d do this, didn’t you?”

Chan, while still a bit shocked by Changbin suddenly reversing their roles, manages to flash a cheeky grin. “So, maybe I did? It worked, didn’t it?”

“You’re insufferable, you know?” Changbin rolled his eyes, then grabbed Chan’s lubed hand as he positioned himself over Chan’s stomach. “I’m not done with you, yet, though.”

Picking up on Changbin’s intentions, Chan moved his hand closer to the inside of Changbin’s thighs. He worked his fingers back inside the younger man, causing him to stumble forward a bit and grab the headboard. “So nice of you to consider my exhaustion in all of this.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the younger man sighed. “I still can’t believe you think I’d lay here and do nothing, though.”

“Come on,” Chan scoffs and slowly works his ring finger inside, making Changbin dig his nails into the headboard a bit harder. “I don’t actually think that. Honestly, I have no idea what to expect from you. All I know is that you’re easy to rile up.”

“Seriously? Fuck you,” Changbin whines with insincerity, arching his back as Chan’s fingers stretch him out.

Chan licks his bottom lip, nibbling on it a bit as he watches the arrogance dissolve from the younger man above him. He rotates his middle finger around, offering soft, circular strokes inside of him. When he pushes a bit firmer, it causes Changbin to twitch and let out a bit of a mewl. The older man arrogantly smirks, circling around the sensitive spot a bit more before he pulls each finger out slowly. As Changbin stares down at him in disbelief, Chan shrugs his shoulders. “You could do that. You seem stretched out enough to fuck me.”

For a moment, Changbin looks like he was considering saying something unsavoury, but instead bites his tongue — literally. He shifts back a bit, then grabs the bottle of lube, carelessly squeezing some of it into his hand, then works some of it on to Chan’s cock. “So much for ‘aggressive treatment’, if I’m the one doing all the labour.”

“Hey now,” Chan breathes out, clearly enjoying the way Changbin’s hand feels on him. “Sometimes, you’ve gotta put in effort to be fully healed. Besides, I did my part in stretching you out.”

Changbin shakes his head in feigned irritation. “Yeah, I guess you’re technically right. Makes you the pillow princess now, though.” He playfully winks, then rubs up against the head of Chan’s cock to prevent him from protesting. Once he’s lined up, he slowly slides down, electricity coursing through his veins as the sensation of being filled overtakes him.

“Fuck,” Chan slaps a hand down on to Changbin’s thigh, rolling his head back into the pillow. “Bin, you feel incredible.”

“You’re not even completely inside of me yet,” the younger man’s voice trembles a bit as he grits his teeth. Changbin takes his hand, placing it on top of the hand on his thigh. They both scramble around for a moment, fingers shakily interlacing into each other. “Other hand,” Changbin whines, “gimme your other hand, Channie.” The older man obliges, reaching out to Changbin. They tangle their fingers into knots, and Changbin finally takes Chan fully inside of him, tightly gripping the fingers interlaced with his.

Changbin looks down to Chan’s torso, catching his breath as he lets his body acclimate to the feeling of being connected. Chan presses his elbow down into the bed, releasing his hands from Changbin’s, as he sits upright. He takes his other hand and grips the younger man’s surprised face. “I wanted to be able to kiss you,” he whispers, then tentatively presses his lips to Changbin’s forehead.

“You could’ve just told me,” Changbin sighs, not from irritation, but from contentment.

Chan tsks, kissing a line down from the younger man’s forehead, down his nose, then softly presses his lips against Changbin’s lips. “Wanted to be closer to you,” he punctuates the space in between each word with a quick peck. “I’m not gonna fuck you like a one night stand.”

“Ah,” Changbin nods his head once, grinding his hips up, “so you’re a romantic type, huh?” His voice quivers a bit, and he presses his forehead against Chan’s. “Guess I should’ve known.”

“Doubt you’d complain,” Chan whispers, digging his fingers into Changbin’s back and gripping his neck a bit firmer. “Are you ready, Bin?”

The younger man nods rapidly, hastily pressing his lips against Chan’s. “Yeah,” he affirms, dragging his teeth against Chan’s bottom lip.

The movements are slow, calculated. Chan rolls his hips up into Changbin, letting go of the younger man’s face, placing his arm behind him to support both of them. Changbin leans forward, pressing his weight into his knees as he holds both sides of Chan’s face between his hands. He lifts himself off of his heels, slowly making his way up and down Chan’s length, both of them working in tandem with each other.

“Chan,” Changbin whines, trying to connect their lips together as he gradually increases the pace at which he moves. “Tell me you love me.”

“I love you, Changbin,” Chan complies, bringing his hand up from the younger man’s back, digging his nails into the soft skin as his fingers glide up. “You mean everything to me.” He brings his hand to Changbin’s neck, stroking his cheek with his thumb. Chan breaks away from their sloppy kiss and presses his forehead to Changbin’s.

“I’m thankful you let me be your best friend,” Chan continues. “You’ve been there with me for over a decade now, and I know I wouldn’t have been able to get through half of the things I’ve been through without you.”

Changbin sarcastically scoffs, breathing heavily as he keeps riding Chan. “I wouldn’t be here,” he shudders as Chan rotates his hips up, changing the way he feels inside of Changbin, “fuck, I wouldn’t have made it through this last year without you.” The younger man whimpers a bit, trying to catch his breath. “I needed you, and you were there. I just, fuck— I love you, Chan. I love you, I love you so much.”

Chan pulls Changbin in closer, trying to kiss the younger man, making a pointed effort to make sure their lips connect. They awkwardly kiss a bit until Changbin moves his hands down to grab Chan’s shoulders, allowing for a bit more control. He moves faster, getting more of a verbal reaction from the older man underneath him. Changbin opens his mouth and Chan wastes no time pushing his tongue into the open space.

They let their tongues dance around each other, exploring the new unknowns, trying to memorize the warmth and dampness of the other’s mouth. Chan drops his hand from Changbin’s face, and the younger man pulls away to protest until he feels the warm hand wrap around his cock, his protest being replaced with a mewl.

“Sorry,” Chan pulls away with a gasp, looking at Changbin with a bit of embarrassment. “I’m already close and I wanted to make sure you got there, too.”

Changbin twitches and rolls his head back, letting out a desperate moan. “Chan,” he whines, “if you keep going, it’s not gonna take me long to…”

“I don’t care,” Chan interrupts, “I wanna see how cute your face looks when you come all over me.”

“Fuck you and your stupid, ah,” Changbin grits his teeth, losing his train of thought as he tries to contain his emotions and fails. “I’m gonna… Chan, I—” He involuntarily leans back on his heels, his head rolling back as his back arches. His shoulders roll up to his ears and he lets out a whine as his body convulses, cum shooting up into the air and landing on both of their stomachs.

Chan bites his lip as he watches Changbin fall apart in front of him. “Can I come inside?” His voice is breathless, words caught between pants as he continues rolling his hips, haphazardly thrusting upward as his motions become slightly jerky and more erratic.

The younger man pants as he nods and reorients himself, bringing himself to collapse into the chest in front of him. “Yeah, yeah, come inside me, Chan.” Changbin nuzzles his head up into Chan’s neck, then firmly sinks his teeth into the sensitive flesh in front of him, eliciting a small gasp from the older man.

“Changbin,” Chan whines, drawing out the last syllable of the younger man’s name as he curls inward and his body trembles. He grips Changbin’s back tightly, squeezing him into a close embrace as he comes. His body quivers for a few moments, then eventually calms down. As his breathing slows to a normal pace, Chan shakily sits upright, exchanging a smile with Changbin. He kisses the younger man’s lips softly, reaching up to his shoulders and pulls them both down to the bed.

A tiny squeal comes up from Changbin as he’s rendered horizontal. “Chan,” he whines as he tries to sit upright, but Chan pulls him into a deep kiss.

“Shut up for a minute,” Chan whispers against Changbin’s lips. They exchange tender, tired kisses for several minutes, until Chan pulls back. He looks up to Changbin, smiling softly. “I love you so much. I really do mean it, Bin. Like, you mean the world to me.”

“I love you too, Chan. More than I could put into words.” Changbin smiles back, brushing some of Chan’s stray hairs out of his face. “You also look really hot right now, literally and metaphorically.” He sighs, taking in the way Chan looks, glistening in sweat and covered in his cum. “As much as I love looking at you like this, though, we’re gross and should absolutely shower.”

“Ah,” Chan shakes his head, trying to force himself to stay awake. “Yeah, good point. Sorry to make you shower again so shortly after you already cleaned yourself up once.”

“It’s fine, I’d say it was a fair trade-off.” The younger man dismissively waves his hand in the air. He shudders as he gets off of Chan, making his way to his feet and offering a hand to the man curled up on the bed beneath him. “You can throw the sheets in the wash and help me make the bed later to make up for it, yeah?”

“Deal.”

Changbin rests his damp head against Chan’s chest, listening to the way his heartbeat thrums against the walls of his ribcage. “As much as I love hearing you tell me how much you love me,” he whispers, “I think listening to your heart might be my favourite thing.”

“Why’s that?”

“Means you’re alive.” Changbin lets his eyes flutter shut. “I could record you saying ‘I love you’ to me and listen to it over and over, but it would be hard to capture exactly how your heartbeat sounds over a recording.”

Chan laughs, the sound blending in nicely with his heartbeat. “As romantic as that sounds, you sound like a bit of a serial killer.”

“You never know,” Changbin tuts, tilting his head up to look at Chan. “I could be. Maybe I hide the bodies in my laundry closet.”

“Oh, please,” the older man rolls his eyes, “you don’t have it in you.”

Changbin walks his fingers over Chan’s chest, towards his nightstand, but stops halfway. “I could keep a knife in there, you know.”

Chan deadpans. “Dude, I know you have one in there.”

“What?” The colour drains from Changbin’s face.

“Yeah,” a laugh bubbles up from Chan’s stomach. “I mean, I don’t know where exactly you keep it, but you told me you had one in your bedroom somewhere. Remember that one time you told me that Minho wanted you to do some kinky shit with a knife, but you both chickened out because you were too afraid you were actually gonna hurt him?”

Changbin’s forehead collides against Chan’s sternum with a thud. “Fuck,” he groans, “I forgot I told you that.”

“You were drunk and Minho was really fucking embarrassed. ‘I can’t believe you’d tell Chan that!’, he yelled at you, and you were all like, ‘Chan knows everything about my sex life, I tell you this all the time!’ and then Minho threw the last of his rice at you and missed.”

Both of them laugh so hard, recalling the memory. “Oh my god,” Changbin doubles over as he laughs. “I totally forgot about that. Then he cried because he couldn’t believe he threw something at me, but then he was more upset that he had missed.”

Chan calmed his laughter down and sighed. “He was quirky. I liked that about him.”

“Me too.” Changbin wraps his arm around Chan’s torso and closes his eyes. “Sometimes, I can still hear his laugh when I walk through the empty apartment. It’s like I can see him on the couch, cats curled up in his lap as he had his feet up on the table, working on some management proposal.

“He’d bite his lip until it bled,” the younger man continued, “he’d get so focused on his stupid work projects. ‘I can’t let them be lost without me,’ he’d tell me after I would’ve scolded him. ‘Gotta make the transition easy, since it could be any day.’” Changbin sighed and shook his head, burying it further into Chan’s chest. “That idiot was more concerned about work than his own health.”

Chan brought up a hand to stroke Changbin’s damp hair. “Concerned over work and you. I think you forgot that he was always so worried about you.”

“Yeah, I know.” Changbin rubbed the back of his hand against the underside of his nose as he sniffled. “He put everyone before himself, which is probably why he got so sick so fast.”

“Hey, no, stop it,” Chan whispered, rolling on to his side as he pulled Changbin into an embrace. “You sound like you’re about to start blaming yourself for something you and I both know was out of your control.”

“But—”

“Changbin,” the older man interjects, “it was terminal. Sure, Minho dying was out of the blue, but you couldn’t’ve stopped it. None of us could have.”

There’s an air of tension in the room, silence filling the void for several moments. “You’re right, I know,” the young man buries his head into Chan’s chest. “Doesn’t make it suck less.”

“It doesn’t,” Chan agrees, “but you’ve gotta live on, keep living the best life you can in his memory.”

“I suppose you’ve got a point.” Changbin nuzzled his way around Chan’s chest to hear the older man’s heartbeat again. “Don’t leave me, Chan.”

“I would never dream of it.” Chan whispers as he runs his fingers through Changbin’s hair. “I’m never gonna leave you. I love you, Changbin.”

“I love you, too, Chan.” Changbin whispers back, and the two men lay there in silence, wrapped up in one another, until sleep overtakes them.

For the first time in nearly a year, Changbin finally slept through the night without a nightmare haunting him.

#like covalence #skz smut #skz fics #binchan #bang chan x seo changbin #seo changbin x bang chan #chan x changbin #changbin x chan #wherevermyway

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isolavirtuosa · 3 years ago

Text

Cass & Dean's Infinite Playlist 6-10

[fanfiction] Dean/Castiel

Canon Compliant Coda

The one where Dean makes a lot of mixtapes.

Parts 6-10/26 under the cut. Previous parts here. Referenced songs playlist on Spotify.

- 6 -

“Hey, Cass, you wanna go for a drive-”

“Yes,” he said agreeably, appearing out of thin air. Then his nose wrinkled. “Motörhead?”

“What’s wrong with Motörhead?”

“Nothing, it’s just… loud,” Cass said, loosening his tie.

“You say that a lot,” I said, “but you know that we could just turn down the volume?”

“No, not loud like that,” he said, shaking his head. “It is… difficult-to-have-a-conversation loud.”

“I don’t really see the difference, but okay, what do you want to listen to?” I asked.

Cass seemed to freeze. “…me…?”

“Yes, Castiel, Angel of the Lord, what do you want to listen to?” I asked, nodding my head towards the cassette collection.

“I can… choose?” he asked, sounding genuinely confused.

“Yeah, sure,” I said with a shrug.

“But I am… the passenger,” he said, baffled.

“So you want to listen to Iggy Pop?”

“No, I… I mean, the passenger is to shut his cakehole, is he not?”

“Generally, yes,” I agreed. “But just this once.”

Cass seemed flustered.

I had just said it offhandedly. It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal.

The way Cass was reverently flipping through the tapes seemed like A Big Deal.

“I get final veto power,” I mumbled, trying to regain some semblance of my authority.

Cass hummed his assent, then pulled out a tape.

I held my hand out to him and he placed it into my waiting hand. I felt the warmth of his fingertips, then held up the tape for inspection. “You really like Bowie, huh?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” I said, ejecting Motörhead and putting in The Man Who Sold the World.

Cass rolled down his window, letting the wind blow against his face as he watched the passing scenery.

Our conversations always meandered, about Cass’s work, about what was going on in my little patch heaven, about the past. I felt relaxed, listening to Cass’s low voice talk about organizing angel tree planters floating over heavy guitar and a cacophony of drums.

He paused when the title track came on, his mouth tilting into a little smile. “I like this song.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, it’s hard to put my finger on it, but… it makes me think of you.”

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Yes.

“Did I sell the world?”

“You might have.”

“Huh.”

“I like the Nirvana cover, too.”

“Really, Cass? Grunge?” I scoffed.

“Kurt Cobain was an exceptional poet,” he informed me.

“Oh, man, are you trying to recommend music to me now?” I asked, amused.

“You know Dean, they did not stop making music after the 1980s.”

“Might as well have.”

Cass exhaled a little laugh, turning to look out the window again. He started singing quietly to the chorus, “who knows? Not me. We never lost control. You’re face to face with the man who sold the world.”

I liked listening to my tone-deaf angel sing, joining him in the final lines.

When the tape finished, I ejected it, then nodded my head to the cassettes again. “What’s next?”

“I can choose again?” Cass asked, surprised.

“Pick something good.”

He grinned happily as he started going through all the tapes.

- 7 -

I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel, rocking out to Van Halen.

Cass held out the bag of donuts he’d brought for our drive and I took one, taking a bite and continuing to mouth the words.

“I like sprinkles,” he decided, staring very hard at the strawberry donut he was eating. “They do not seem like they add anything of value, and yet without them, the donut is lesser.”

“Rainbow sprinkles for Cass, check,” I said, going back to singing. “I can barely see the road from the heat comin' off of it. Ah, I reach down between my legs. Ease the seat back.”

“Apparently there are many people who think this song is called Animal,” Cass put in.

“But it is actually called…?”

“Panama,” he said, beaming at me.

“Look at our little Cassie, all grown up,” I said, reaching over and patting him on the shoulder.

“The younger angels all come to me to learn about the ancient music of the 1970s and 80s,” he said proudly.

“Ancient?” I repeated.

“Quite,” he agreed.

“Anciently awesome,” I muttered.

“Are songs about strippers… anciently awesome?” Cass asked, his tone implying that they might not be.

“Strippers are awesome,” I declared.

Cass snorted at that. “Dean, your performative masculinity is unnecessary.”

“Performative… what the hell is that supposed to mean?” I growled at him.

He shrugged, a bizarrely human gesture on him. “If your idea of a good time is watching scantily clad women struggling to pay their bills while dealing with issues of paternal abandonment-”

“-which I do-”

“-then you should spend your time in heaven doing that instead of driving around in your Impala with me.”

“I can do both,” I protested.

“When have you…” Cass trailed off, squinting at me. “Dean, I think you need feminism.”

“You sound like Sam,” I groaned.

“No, our tones are significantly different.”

I just rolled my eyes.

“I am going to make you a mixtape,” Cass decided.

“Oh?”

“Yes. Of only female artists.”

Something inside of me rebelled against the idea of it. But another part of me thought about that catchy Taylor Swift song that I couldn’t quite get out of my head. “I don’t need weepy chick music,” I said dismissively.

“Deaaaaan,” he sighed heavily, like my name was ten syllables long.

“Do you even know how to make a mixtape?”

“I am very good at figuring things out.”

We all knew that wasn’t true, but I didn’t say anything more, and the next time Cass appeared in my car, he was proudly waving a cassette at me that read in very tiny lettering, ‘A Mixtape of Various Female Artists Made by Castiel for Dean as a Means of Edification'.

I shook my head at him.

He just grinned.

“You gonna put it in?” I asked.

“No,” he said, adding the tape to my collection. “You should listen to it alone.”

“That sounds ominous,” I said with a snort.

“I just mean that your reaction will be more authentic.”

“Okay,” I said, squinting at him. Like I was performative.

“Can we listen to Led Zeppelin today?” he asked.

“Um, we can always listen to Led Zeppelin,” I said. “Whaddya wanna hear?”

“We could start at Led Zeppelin and proceed chronologically?” he suggested.

“I like the way you think,” I said, feeling around for the tape and then pushing it into the deck.

After Cass had left, I could feel his mixtape sitting there, staring at me.

I glared at it.

What had Cass said? That I needed feminism?

This was going to be so annoying.

I pulled the tape out and pushed it into the deck.

The guitar that greeted my ears was familiar.

“Busted flat in Baton Rouge, waiting for a train. When I was feeling nearly faded as my jeans. Bobby thumbed a diesel down, just before it rained.”

I felt a little smile tugging at my lips. I could respect some Janis Joplin, and the fact that Cass had chosen to open up his mixtape with Me and Bobby McGee actually had me a little impressed with his mixtape-making skills.

Then the song ended, and I could hear Cass’s faraway-sounding voice in the back of the recording. “Did it record the song?”

I cracked up, listening to him struggle to figure out how to stop the recording before putting on the next song. I had no idea what kind of equipment he’d decided to use for this, but the sound quality was a little scratchy, suggesting he might have just been holding up a microphone to a tape player.

Then the twangy guitar of Fleetwood Mac suddenly filled the speakers.

I listened to the tape from start to finish. There were some random moments of Cass mumbling to himself, trying to figure out what he was doing. There was also a very loud crash in the middle of Patti Smith, followed by some cursing that had me laughing so hard I had tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.

And at the end of it all, I couldn’t help but wonder how the hell Cass had known enough to pick out each of those songs. Sure, Metatron had braindumped him with a bunch of pop culture references, but there was a depth to his choices. It was obvious he was mostly trying to choose songs he thought that I would like, with rockers like Suzi Quatro and Heart. But then there was Joni Mitchell, which was just so Cass to me.

“I am on a lonely road and I am traveling, traveling, traveling, traveling. Looking for something, what can it be?”

It was kind of beautiful, and I found myself rewinding it and listening again.

[Listen to Castiel's full C46 mixtape 'A Mixtape of Various Female Artists Made by Castiel for Dean as a Means of Edification' on Spotify.]

- 8 -

Me and Cass sat on the hood of the Impala, drinking beers while Black Sabbath blasted through the speakers.

Cass suddenly leaned back, staring up at the sky. “The stars are beautiful here,” he observed.

“Yeah, no ambient light in heaven,” I said, laying back beside him.

“Shooting star,” Cass pointed out happily.

I was looking at him instead of the sky. I looked back up, but it was already gone. “Haven’t you seen a million of them?”

“And I hope to see a million more.”

“How can you be like that?” I asked, shaking my head. I sat up again and took a pull from my beer.

“Like what?” he asked.

“I dunno,” I said. “Hopeful?”

“Is it hopeful to enjoy the beauty of my father’s creation?”

“I got no idea.”

“What’s on your mind, Dean?”

“Whaddya mean?”

“You just seem like you want to talk about something,” he said, sitting up next to me.

“Not really,” I said with a shrug.

He stared at me for a long moment, then looked away with his own shrug. “Don’t tell me, then.”

“Don’t be like that,” I complained, nudging him with my elbow.

“Then talk to me,” he said with a scowl.

“Hey, Cass,” I said. “How you doin’?”

“Crappy,” he responded, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Don’t be like that,” I repeated, nudging him harder. That of course did nothing because he was an immovable lump of celestial intent.

“I am just being myself.”

“A grumpy-ass angel?”

“A grumpy-ass angel,” he agreed sarcastically.

“I like when you’re a happy, non-grumpy-ass angel,” I said, looking him in the eye.

“I am very happy, Dean,” he said, staring back unbothered.

“Why?” I asked before I could help it.

His expression took on a more thoughtful countenance. “Well, to be happy is to be ‘characterized by well-being and contentment’,” he said, like he was reading from the dictionary. “Heaven is still a work in progress, but it has been greatly transformed by Jack, and I am able to be a part of that. I derive great satisfaction from my work.”

“And that’s enough?” I asked.

“No, it’s not enough,” he said, shaking his head. “Work is just one part of life.”

I found myself chewing on my bottom lip.

“I have my friends and my family,” he continued, leaning in a little closer and trying to maintain eye contact. “When my work is finished, I can visit with them, go for drives with my best friend.”

“And that’s… good enough?” I asked.

Cass gave me a scrutinizing look. “Are we talking about me…?”

“Yes, we’re talking about you, who else would we be talking about?” I grumbled, feeling annoyed for some reason.

“Dean.”

I looked at him.

He looked at me.

I looked away.

“I find great satisfaction in my personal life,” he finally said. “And I am enjoying my new hobby immensely.”

“Hobby?”

“Earth music,” he explained, his expression softening into a smile. “I want to listen to it all.”

“Yeah?” I said. “That’s a lotta music, Cass.”

He nodded happily.

“So me makin’ you mixtapes… that makes you happy?” I asked, weighing the words out before I spoke.

“Yes, Dean, so very much,” he said sincerely. “It’s like you’re giving me a piece of your soul with every song.”

“Um, I don’t think it’s quite that deep.”

“Music is truly powerful.”

“Not that powerful.”

“And yet…”

I let him have the last word, shaking my head and taking a drink.

“Dean, are you happy?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah, sure,” I said with a shrug. “Ya know, for a dead guy.”

Cass sighed very loudly.

I gave him my most charming grin.

“You are in heaven,” he said to me. “You are supposed to be experiencing the ultimate form of contentment.”

“I am,” I said, knocking our shoulders together. I realized he was starting to get upset, and I didn’t want that. I liked Happy Cass, as unsettling and foreign as he was. “I am experiencing many forms of contentment right now.”

He looked at me.

I let my hand drop to his knee, resting there. “I’ve got my baby, I’ve got my beer, I’ve got my tunes, and I’ve got my angel.”

That got him to half-smile.

I squeezed his knee. “I’m okay, Cass.”

“I wish that you were more than okay,” he told me.

“How much more okay do I need to be?” I asked, rolling my eyes and reclaiming my hand as I took a drink.

He just looked at me.

I raised an eyebrow at him.

“Can we listen to something else?” he asked abruptly.

“Too loud?”

“Yes.”

“Put in whatever you want,” I said, nodding my head back towards the car.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tape, smiling at me hopefully.

“What’s that?” I asked, holding out my hand.

He passed it to me.

“Joni Mitchell?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Blue is a masterpiece,” he informed me.

I looked at him.

“You said whatever I want.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, handing it back to him.

Cass looked pleased as he slid down off the hood and headed back into the car.

Ozzy Osbourne’s voice cut out, and suddenly the night was quiet. It was only a moment, and then Joni Mitchell’s acoustic guitar kicked in.

“I really like this song,” he told me as he climbed back up on the hood.

“It’s alright,” I said. “For chick music,” I couldn’t help but add.

“Dean, there is no such thing as chick music.”

“Uh, it’s music made by chicks.”

“So music made by men is dick music?”

I spit out my beer.

Cass shrugged, playing it off like he was just making an observation. Like he didn’t know exactly what to say to make me laugh. “I might like chick better than dick,” he decided.

I was dying.

Cass smiled a happy, pleased smile.

I slung my arm around his shoulder and drank my beer, contentedly listening to the haunting sound of Joni Mitchell’s voice.

- 9 -

“This album is a revelation,” Cass informed me.

“Really, Cass?” I asked incredulously. “Beyoncé?”

“Queen Bey, yes,” he said with a sincere nod.

“Oh, is this a monarchy?” I asked.

Cass sighed loudly. “Be quiet and listen.”

I was quiet, but I couldn’t guarantee that I was listening. “What is the point of sampling?” I grumbled. “Come up with your own music.”

“Sampling is like a storyteller passing down the oral history of one generation down to the next,” Cass explained, using that voice that sounded like he was talking to a child but usually meant he was talking to me. “It is actually incredibly intricate and beautiful when done well.”

“I don’t know, Cass, I don’t think Andy Williams reggae is for me.”

“Listen to the words,” he growled at me.

I tried. “I’m just not into jilted lover chick music.”

Cass straight up scowled at me.

I groaned. This was going to be a long ride.

Then something caught my ear.

“…is that Zepp?!”

Cass gave me a haughty look. “Funny how excited you get at hearing a lowly ‘sample’.”

“Zepp rules,” I said with a shrug.

“You should try being more open-minded, Dean.”

“I’m very open-minded,” I said incredulously.

“Because you like that one Taylor Swift song?”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

Cass ignored me and started singing along.

I decided to ignore him, too.

We got through a few more tracks that had me really thinking this wasn’t an album for a middle-aged white guy, but then out of nowhere there was a country song blasting through the speakers and Cass had gone quiet, touching my arm. “Listen,” was all he said.

“Came into this world daddy's little girl.”

“So relatable,” I mumbled, and Cass pinched me. “Ow!”

“And daddy made a soldier out of me.”

That gave me pause.

“Daddy made me dance and daddy held my hand.”

Losing me again…

“And daddy liked his whisky with his tea and we rode motorcycles. Blackjack, classic vinyl. Tough girl is what I had to be.”

I swallowed.

“He said take care of your mother, watch out for your sister.”

‘Watch out for Sammy,’ Dad’s voice echoed in my ears.

“Oh, my daddy said shoot.”

‘All right, if somethin' tries to bust in?’ Dad asked.

‘Shoot first, ask questions later,’ I found myself answering.

Cass didn’t say anything for the rest of the song.

I hit the ‘stop’ button.

His head tilted as he gazed at me, waiting.

“The fuck was that?” I finally ground out.

He blinked at me.

“I didn’t like it,” I said abruptly.

A frown tugged at Cass’s mouth. “I’m sorry, Dean. I did not mean to upset you.”

“Who’s upset?” I growled, speeding up.

“You are,” he said, like he was pointing out the obvious.

“Whatever.”

I almost jumped out of my skin when Cass put his hand on my arm again.

“Sorry,” he said softly. “I didn’t know that things between you and John were still so… unresolved.”

“Dad and I are fine,” I lied, and no one believed me.

Cass left his hand on my arm, and after a while he reclaimed his Beyoncé tape and put in some Metallica.

- 10 -

Cass left the damn tape mixed in with my collection.

I kept rewinding it, listening again and again.

“Oh, my daddy said shoot. Oh, my daddy said shoot.”

Cass caught me, appearing in my passenger seat out of nowhere without the customary invitation.

I hit ‘eject’, and neither of us said anything about it. “What do you want to listen to?” I asked.

“Driver picks the music,” Cass said.

I shrugged. “Fish out some Lynyrd Skynyrd.”

He did so, pushing in their debut album.

I started singing along to I Ain’t the One.

This was what we did. Except, usually I called Cass.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” I asked.

“Hm?” he said, looking away from the window to face me. “Oh, I just wanted to see you. I hope that’s okay.”

“Of course,” I said. “You don’t need an invitation.”

“You have said that before, so I thought… I thought I might take you up on it.”

“Good.”

Cass leaned back more comfortably in his seat, rolling up his sleeves to his elbows. He’d been taking off the trench coat and the suit jacket more and more often lately. “Sam said the same thing, but I didn’t know that kitchens were a place for sexual intercourse.”

I slow blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Sam told me to stop by any time,” he said. “Then he told me to knock first.”

“Wait, wait, so Sammy was hitting it on the kitchen table?”

“He wasn’t hitting anything,” Cass said, squinting at me.

“Cass, come on, you mean to tell me that you still haven’t figured out the art of the sexual innuendo?”

“Sam and Eileen were… in a compromising situation on the kitchen counter,” he explained.

“Nice,” I said agreeably. “Good for Sammy.”

“Sam was not quite as enthusiastic about the situation,” Cass said, shaking his head. “At least Eileen thought it was funny.”

I leaned back against my headrest, chuckling. “Eileen is so cool, how did she ever end up with my dorky brother?”

“Opposites attract?” Cass suggested.

“Apparently,” I said. “So you got a real eyeful?”

“I saw more of Sam than I ever wanted to, if that’s what you’re asking,” he said.

I cracked up. “Gross, man.”

“Indeed.”

“Pick up any new techniques?” I asked, waggling my eyebrows at him. “Knowing Sammy, probably not…”

“Sex techniques?” he asked, making a face at me.

“Yeah, man,” I said. “Never know when some lovely lady- or uh… dude, uh… might, ya know, walk into your life.”

“I am not interested in having sex.”

“Dude, come on,” I said. “You don’t ever get the urge…?”

“No.”

“Cass, you’re killing me here.”

“I don’t know why it bothers you so much,” he said with a shrug. “Your sexual activity decreased significantly after the whole Mark of Cain skulduggery.”

I was scandalized. “I did not-” and then I thought about it. “How would you know?” I blustered, deciding to take a different tack.

“It is very obvious when you’ve had sex, Dean,” he said, like he was talking about the weather. “Elevation in mood, increased winking and eyebrow waggling, excessive cockiness…”

“How is that-”

“Also, the smell.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“The pheromone smell,” Cass said, nodding his head. “Very distinct.”

I sniffed the air around me self-consciously.

“There’s also the ritual,” he said, gazing ahead thoughtfully. “Primping yourself-”

“Hey, now, I do not primp-”

“Fixing your hair, making sure your clothing lies just right…” he explained. “Then it is off to the bar, a few drinks, a few well-placed aw-shucks country boy smiles-”

“I do not-”

“Find a willing partner and take her to where it is convenient to fornicate-”

“Dude, really?”

“All I am saying is that you stopped having a strong interest in such superficial acts, so I do not know why I should have to be interested in them.”

“I am still very interested in those superficial acts,” I grumbled. “I just… there was always so much going on, ya know? And I just… well, okay, maybe I didn’t just want to pick up some random girl at a bar and take her home. I…” I trailed off, at a loss to explain.

“I understand,” Cass said. “I wonder if I would be more interested if sex with the person I love was possible, but since it is not, it all seems rather frivolous.”

“You can’t just dismiss it like that when you’ve barely even tried,” I said, shaking my head. “Look-” I started and froze, the synapses in my brain finally firing. “Wait, I’m the person you love.”

“Yes,” Cass agreed.

“Wait, wait, wait.”

He waited.

“So… you would want to have sex if it was with… me?” I asked slowly.

“Yes, I think so,” he said, nodding.

“And I’m not… interested… so, you’re just gonna be celibate…?”

“Correct,” he agreed.

“Cass, man, I can’t be the reason for you not getting laid.”

“You’re not,” he said, giving me an amused look.

“You just said…”

“Dean, I have experimented with human sexuality, and I do not find it fulfilling without a ‘connection’,” he said, making air quotes. “Maybe someday I will make a ‘connection’ with another being who returns my feelings, but for now I am content without sexual contact.”

“But-”

“Perhaps you should worry more about your own sex life than mine,” he said.

I glared at him.

He held his hands up. “I just mean that if sex makes you happy, then why aren’t you having it?”

“Oh, you watch,” I muttered.

“Are you inviting me for some sort of voyeuristic experience?” he asked, looking perplexed.

“No!” I cried, but then I couldn’t help but laugh.

Cass was quiet, but he had a little smile on his face.

“Is this really enough for you?” I asked softly.

“What?” he asked, eyes flicking to mine as he studied my expression. “You and I?”

I nodded.

His smile went soft. “Of course it is, Dean.”

“Okay,” I said, because when he looked at me like that I had to believe him, as improbable as it seemed. “Cass, I…”

“Yes?”

I struggled for the words and finally gave up. “You can drop by whenever you like. You don’t even have to knock.”

“Thank you, Dean,” he said, looking pleased.

“Yeah,” I said with a shrug. And that was all there was to say.

#fanfiction #isola cass & dean's infinite playlist #deancas

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ashintheairlikesnow · 5 years ago

Text

Keep Trying: Nat

CW: Blood (like a lot of blood), implications of gore but no actual real gore, infected wound, referenced/implied past noncon/dubcon, referenced past abuse, referenced abusive relationship, very sick whumpee. Pet whump and dehumanization (referenced).

TIMELINE: Comes just after The Freedom to Run in Kauri’s story, right after Jenna kicks him out of the first safehouse he tries. References events in The Surgery . Blink-and-you’ll miss it character details for a side character.

The Jack referenced belongs to @spiffythespook and the Tara referenced belongs to @fairybean101

Tagging the Kauri crew: @im-not-rare-im-rarr, @maybeawhumpblog, @pepperonyscience, @haro-whumps, @18-toe-beans, @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @giggly-evil-puppy, @whimpers-and-whumpers, @moose-teeth, @whump-it, @lumpofwhump, @pumpkinthefangirl

Nat found him under a bush.

Most people might have been a bit more surprised to discover a young man curled into a tiny ball underneath the line of heavy landscaping that went around her property, but Nat had been at this a long, long time - eighteen years, give or take - and this wasn’t the first time she’d found a runaway curled up asleep in the shade of the leaves.

Sometimes they weren’t even runaway pets, just kids who needed to escape the rain, on their own or on the run from bad home lives. Kids the shelters turned away or who had maxed out their time, needed somewhere to crash for a day or two before they made the rounds again.

She didn’t care - Nat took care of anyone who came to her for help. Only the pets ever came into the house, though.

“I thought he was… I don’t know, an animal or something at first,” one of the rescues whispered, wringing her hands together.

She stood hunched over with narrow shoulders curved forward, drowning in a T-shirt at least three sizes too large, but it was all the poor thing ever wanted to wear. That and sweatpants that covered every inch. It was all the rescues ever wore, until they started to feel like their bodies belonged to them again. “I came to check to see if the bushes had flowers yet and I found him and I thought he was dead? I thought, I thought I should come g-g-get you, but then when I, um, I was going to get you the shovel because if it, if it was dead… but then he made a sound and he wasn’t an animal, and-”

“I understand, Krista,” Nat soothed, rubbing a hand in a slow circle on the young woman’s back. Krista relaxed at the touch and leaned back into it - the rescues usually came either horrified by touch or desperate for it, with no in-between. “I’ll take care of him from here. You did the right thing coming to get me. Now, maybe you should head inside.”

Krista nodded quickly, one hand to her mouth, chewing at her fingernails nervously. She hadn’t done that when she first showed up, too thin and nearly mute. She’d been dumped by her owner and found by a good Samaritan who took the time to find a storefront and drop her off.

The storefront had called Nat and Krista had been here ever since, going on three months now. She was a pretty thing, if faded and harried-looking, and she was fairly sure she was from somewhere near Tennessee - nearly across the country.

And she’d started biting her nails.

While biting fingernails wasn’t a habit Nat would normally encourage, she had a feeling it was parts of who Krista had been starting to show themselves, so she didn’t stop her.

Once Krista had gone back into the house, Nat stood with her hands on her hips, looking. It was still early morning, and the sun had only just barely begun to paint the deep blue-black sky with hints of pink and orange and, she thought with a hint of irritation, a bright and bloody red.

Red sky in the morning, farmer’s warning, her dad’s voice said in her head. Man had been gone for twenty years, and Nat never stopped hearing him. Never stopped feeling, in her mind, like maybe she still needed an adult to help her figure out what she’d done with her life and to give her some advice on the trajectory her life had taken since she was a twenty-two year old freshly graduated psych major shown a salary, a benefits package, and challenging work she couldn’t refuse… until she had.

She’d sort of lost her way - or found a better one - and become the den mother for a neverending rotation of frightened dehumanized amnesiacs who were, legally speaking, not even full people, but property.

Sometimes it occurred to her, with a bitter humor, that she had funneled, over the course of nearly twenty years, millions of dollars of stolen property through her old five-bedroom, three-story house in a town that had grown into a suburb with time and urban sprawl.

She was a goddamn criminal, but she couldn’t say her father wouldn’t have been fucking proud of her for picking the right side to fight for.

The boy curled up under the bushes shifted a little, the rustle of sticks and decaying leaves and dirt underneath him, and Nat dropped into an easy crouch, resting her elbows on her thighs and tilting her head.

Her braid slipped down towards her right shoulder, and more than a few strands of graying brown hair hung over her eyes.

“C’mon, kiddo,” She said, not bothering to keep her voice to a whisper. The boy shifted a little, rustling in the leaves. “Time to get up and moving.”

No one else in this neighborhood was up - and it wasn’t a great neighborhood, so even if anyone did get up they were fairly safe here. Everyone kept to themselves, and most of them understood why Nat did what she did.

The pets were unobtrusive - they came and went and kept to themselves - and so the neighbors pretended they didn’t see a thing. In return, Nat pretended she didn’t know what most of them were up to, the ways they made money in a city where the wealthy nearly never had to even look at the poor. It was a good enough system to get by.

“Hnnnnh, can’t,” the boy whispered. “S-sorry, not… I don’t… feel s’ well.”

She could see him a little better now. Black sweatpants and an oversized sweatshirt - the rescue uniform, she thought with warmly affectionate dry humor, they all came out of captivity craving comfortable loose things that didn’t show any skin. Black curly hair - or maybe dark brown, he was shadowed under the leaves so it wasn’t clear. Eyes closed, long dark eyelashes, clammy pale skin with a sheen of sweat across his forehead…

And a lot of blood staining the front of his sweatshirt. A lot of blood.

Nat’s eyebrows raised. Rescues turned up in all sorts of shape, but they rarely showed up still bleeding. Usually by the time they made it to her, someone had bandaged them, someone had cleaned them up.

The boy was curled up around some kind of dark green bag, clutching onto it, and when he shifted hearing her voice, Nat watched his fingers close even more tightly around the rough canvas fabric.

“’m sorry,” the boy whispered, in a voice surprisingly deep for his delicately wrought looks. Clearly a Romantic, she thought, but this one looked like he’d been stabbed. “Think I'm… s-sick… please, just st-stay with me, Mr. Owen, please…”

Nat swallowed, reached out to lay a hand across his forehead. Mr. Owen.

Must be the owner’s name. Hope this isn’t an owner’s work - this poor thing has lost quite a bit of blood…

She didn’t crinkle her nose or pull back at the sticky sweat, only took in the heat that seemed to be boiling just under the surface. Some of that curly hair was plastered to his forehead, bits of leaves and sticks stuck in it from where he’d been lying, apparently for some time.

“Sick…” He rasped, leaning into her touch, pushing his forehead against the palm of her hand, shivering a little and managing a faint, tremulous smile at the touch. She didn’t react to that, either, although it seemed like confirmation that he was definitely a pet on the run.

“I think you’re more than sick, sweetheart,” she said, low and soft. Not threatening, not cajoling, just a calm, even tone. “We need to get you into the house, take a look at…” Her eyes dropped down to the bloody mess that made up the chest of his sweatshirt. “…that.”

If he was the kind of sick that had him throwing up blood, that definitely wasn’t a good sign.

“Jack…” He managed the word, drawn out too long, taking one syllable and turning it into two, to three. “I can’t go back f’r him yet… Jack, Jack might b’hurt…”

“Don’t worry about him just yet, honey,” She said softly, trying to think. Maybe another pet from the same home? Bonded pairs that got split up never did well… it had been years and Nine still acted like a shadow grieving the one he’d lost…

Stop it, Nat chided herself. ‘Bonded pair’ is company language. You mean the ones that are friends, that care for each other. He left someone behind, that’s all.

She glanced over her shoulder back towards the house. Krista stood on the front steps, biting her thumbnail, watching them with wide eyes.

“Krista, love,” Nat called. “Can you go grab Jake and Trev? We’ll have to carry this one.” Krista nodded quickly - the rescues mostly obeyed any order thoughtlessly until they were further along in recovery - and ducked back inside.

Nat turned back to the boy, only to jump when she realized his eyes were open. Wide blue eyes, a little glassy, barely seeing her. Even with his chalky pale skin, even with the sweat that seemed to coat him like dew, even with the blood…

“Jesus Christ, you’re gorgeous,” she said softly. ��I could swear I’ve seen you somewhere before… where did you come from?”

“Please,” the boy whispered, reaching out to grab onto her wrist. There was dried blood on his hands and Nat swallowed, hard., at the heat and odd strength of his grip, even as his hand shook. “Please. Jack n-needs help. S’my… my fault… him and, and… both of them, s’my fault…”

He started to cry, tears leaking out, making tracks in the layer of dirt and grime and dried blood on his face.

"Hoo boy,” Nat said softly. “You’re a mess, aren’t you? The guys will help me get you inside and we can talk a little more about what happened to you once you feel better. Can you help me understand why you’re bleeding?”

The boy nodded slowly, dazed, and pulled down the neckline of his sweatshirt.

Nat, who had seen a lot in her time helping the rescues and who had grown up working alongside her dad in the fields and with the cattle, recoiled in disgust from the sight - and the smell.

He hadn’t thrown up the blood - it had come from the open fucking wound that stretched from the ball of his right shoulder all the way across his collarbone, where it ended just over his breastbone. She could see the remains of some kind of bandage, but it had long since fallen apart and it wasn’t exactly doing him any good right now. “What the f-”

Behind her, the screen door slammed open and she heard the guys talking to each other as they thumped down the steps and headed her direction. The boy heard them - he flinched and looked in that direction, hazy eyes unable to focus.

Trev made it first - Nat heard his quick intake of breath as he saw, too. “Nat?” His voice shook, just a little - Trev had plenty of scars and this couldn’t be easy for him to see, either. “Is, um-… Krista said you needed help?”

Jake was on his heels - Jake who looked like a linebacker but was more of a lamb, a lib volunteer that Nat had always been able to rely on.

While Trev nervously backed up, Jake simply dropped into a crouch next to her, meaty forearms resting on his legs in an unconscious echo of Nat’s posture. “New rescue?” He asked, mildly, as though he didn’t see the blood, the shredded and destroyed skin across the boy’s chest, bandages so soaked in blood that you could barely tell them apart from the wound itself, and his bleary, unblinking eyes.

“New rescue,” Nat confirmed. “And he’s been fucked up all to hell. Sounds like he left some other pets behind when he ran - I’m guessing he ran because of that mess.”

“Nooooo…” The boy’s voice trailed off until the word was more of a whimper. “No, didn’… I didn’ want to, had to… I had to…”

“Sssshhhhh.” Nat ran a hand back through the sweaty, dirty hair, and the boy shuddered and made a noise low in his throat, the pathetic little gratitude-sound so many rescues came out of captivity with, the desperate thankfulness for any touch that didn’t hurt. “Ssssshhhh, sweetheart, just calm down. We need to deal with the bleeding before we can deal with anything else.”

“Got that right,” Jake muttered, considering. He was unfazed by the blood, absolutely calm in the face of the deepest violence, and that was one reason Nat kept him close at hand. “Trev-”

Trev, standing just behind and to the left, flinched and shook his head. “No, Jake, I’m… I’m sorry b-but, but you know I don’t l-like blood, that much… so much blood… is, is he okay?”

“He’s rocking one hell of an infection, from the sight and smell of things,” Nat said heavily. “He’ll be all right, though, I’ve got some strong antibiotics in the spare room and I’ll call our doctor to come over and check him out-”

“No!” The boy grabbed her again, eyes wide and white-rimmed. “N-No, no, no doctors, no clinics, no no no, please, please-”

Nat swallowed, hard, glancing at Jake, gently freeing herself from the boy’s grip. “Well, that tells us something, doesn’t it?”

Jake nodded, short and firm. Something like fury entered his usually placid, kind face, took the blocky jaw and turned it to solid stone.

Trev spoke, a little tremulous. “Wh-what does it tell us, Nat? I don’t un, understand.”

“He’s Whumpees-R-Us, that’s what it tells us - and whoever owned him used their onsite clinic, which means he’s local, so…” Nat’s voice trailed off as it sunk in exactly why the boy looked so familiar to her.

She’d seen his picture on TV a couple of days ago, some press conference his owner gave with Karen fucking Renford standing next to him - and if Nat never saw that bitch again, it would be too soon. She’d seen a face just like his, only a few years older, at nearly every multiple-lib-group meetup she’d ever been to.

Vincent Shield the goddamn movie star slinking in with sunglasses and hats and big scarves to keep anyone from knowing who he was and giving their locations away.

This was Vincent Shield’s perfect fucking clone - this was Owen Grant’s runaway Romantic, that’s who this was.

This was fifty thousand dollars in reward money for anyone who gave a tip that led to him being recovered - recaptured - and returned to - dragged back to - his owner - the piece of shit treating him like property. This was a runaway Romantic pet - a traumatized rape victim fighting for freedom - and if anyone knew he was here, Nat’s whole operation was in danger, just like that.

“Shit,” Nat whispered. “Shit shit shit.”

Her heart began to pound inside her chest, and she looked up sharply, taking in the mostly-empty street, everyone still inside their houses as the sun began to fully rise. This kid was on every news channel, the company spending tons of money to get plenty of airtime proving that people like Nat were the villains, stealing sweet happy pets away from their loving owners - and here was one big risk half-conscious and giving off a sick smell and impossible body heat under the bushes in her front yard.

If she was smart, she’d do nothing. Leave him here, give him maybe some antibiotics and stuff for the road and tell him to move along, he was too recognizable. He looked exactly like Vincent Shield, just like all the rumors said, now that she was close to him and could really get a look at his face.

Some of the others had seen him in some video or something, but Nat wasn’t much for technology and she hadn’t seen any of it herself. She didn’t like watching videos of pets in captivity - made her sick to her stomach. She preferred nursing them back to remembering they were human.

But this one could get her raided, could bring the thing she’d spent eighteen years building crashing down on all their heads. She could go to prison once they figured out how many fugitives she’d harbored, how much of the company’s hard fucking work she’d undone.

It was the least she could do - she’d been one of the ones to build the fucking company in the first place.

“Nat?” Jake asked, his voice uncertain. “Nat, I don’t like that expression you’ve got going right now.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not a good one. This is, uh, this is… this boy’s trouble on two legs, Jake.” At his confused expression, she shook her head. “This… is Owen Grant’s boy.”

A moment for realization to sink in.

Then Jake’s face went white.

“Holy fuck,” He breathed. “Yeah, I got a call from another shelter about him. Jenna said he’s a fucking mess and he’ll fuck us all over, that he’s in fucking love with his owner. Fuck fuck fuck, shit, he’s going to fuck us over, Jenna said he wants to go back. That he really is still in love with the sick fuck that owned him.”

“That’s not new. Krista was, too, when she first came.”

“Yeah, but… shit, Nat. What do you think? What do you want to do?”

“Wh-what do you want to do?” Trev echoed. “What do we do?” The poor love did a lot of echoing when he got scared - his owner had apparently done a lot of forcing him to repeat things when he was bad- had the good sense to question his situation. Nat tried to calm her expression back down to its usual patient warmth.

“Don’t worry, Trev - I’m sorry, when I called for you I didn’t realize what we were dealing with. You take Krista and get back inside, I’ll take care of this with Jake. Thanks for coming out, you’re a huge help, you’re always so reliable for us. I really appreciate you. Can you please stay in the back rooms until we’ve helped this poor boy?”

Trev nodded quickly, tight little jerks of the head with a smile of sheer relief, and then backed away from them and all but ran back into the house, Krista right on his heels with only a quick worried glance over her shoulder.

“Think they’ll be holed up in their rooms before we ever get this kid back inside?” Jake said - not a question, really, just a statement of fact.

“Yep,” Nat replied. Her mouth tasted bitter, suddenly. The boy was still watching them, his eyes shifting from one to the other and failing to focus.

“She’s out of charge,” The boy said in a voice like a hoarse rasp. He didn’t seem to have heard anything they had said to each other, or didn’t hold onto it long enough. “I can’t wake her up. Need t’ charge her. Listen, listen, I don’… I don’ want to stay, I’m sorry… jus’, um, some medicine and I’ll… go… ‘m sorry, I can’t, I’m dangerous… I’m, I’m dangerous, I’m sorry, Jack, I’m so sorry-”

Nat and Trev glanced sidelong at each other, and Nat finally just gave a firm, short nod, and reached out her hands. “We can talk about that inside, sweetheart. Let’s get you into my house, I can clean you up, okay?“

Fuck it all, she’d never turned a rescue away before, and she’d be damned if she’d start now.

Fuck you, Renford, and all you fucking soulless pieces of shit, for what you’ve turned these poor kids into. I made a mistake, twenty years ago, when I helped you lie to them. I won’t make another.

“Then I… I gotta go back t’Jack,” The boy said, in a voice that suggested he was arguing with her - or someone, anyway - inside his head, an argument Nat hadn’t actually been privy to. “He, he, he helped me… he helped… I got them both hurt, I got them both-… fucking, feels like my veins are on fire… h-hurts… I got him hurt. I got Jack hurt.”

“Do you know where Jack is?” Nat asked, keeping her voice low and gentle, monotone, but her eyes moved back and forth, constantly checking the street for signs someone was watching them. She saw nothing, and Jake was looking, too. No one was paying attention to them, at least not right now.

“I don’ know… hope, hope he’s okay, hope he’s… I j-just, I shouldn’t have… he was just, he was nice… he helped me… Shit, h-hurts-”

“I understand. I’m sure it does hurt,” Nat said, brushing at his hair again, watching the boy shift around under her touch, trying to press into it even though she was a total stranger and he had no way to know she wasn’t exactly as dangerous as whatever he had left behind. The shit they’ve done to them to make them this way… “Listen. We can’t fix the hurt until you come out from under my plants, sweetheart. Can you move by yourself?”

“Th… think so.” The boy nodded and shifted slowly, pushing himself out on his stomach until he was out from under the bushes. Jake had to pick him up from there - he couldn’t seem to stand on his own, let alone walk. He tried and fell, tried and fell, and finally Jake simply scooped him up, sweeping an arm under his knees and behind his back.

He hung limp in Jake’s arms like a ragdoll, blue eyes focused on the backpack right up until Nat slung it over one shoulder - “Fuck, what’s in here, kiddo, this feels heavy” - and then he finally drooped, tucking his head under Jake’s chin, his forehead pressed against the side of Jake’s neck.

“Jesus fuck, this kid is burning up, Nat,” Jake said, a little worriedly, as they walked back towards the house.

“Yeah, well, a giant gaping infected chest wound will do that to you,” Nat said calmly enough. “I need to make some phone calls. Can you take over the medical stuff until Dr. Masood gets here to look him over? I don’t think our in-house shit’s going to help him do anything more than hold it off. I’ll call him first, and then make some more calls, so you’re den dad until I’m done.”

“Who are you calling?”

“Everyone. As of the second I step foot back inside my house, we are on full lockdown - no contact, less risk that way if this kid is what Jenna says he is - and I want them all to know why. Nobody but the ones who’ve already met him gets to know his name or details, Jake… just that we’ve taken in a risky one and we need a couple weeks to figure out where we stand.”

“Got it. House on lockdown until you tell me otherwise.” Jake shifted the boy in his arms, who whimpered in pain and clung to him more tightly, fingers twisting into the fabric of his shirt. “You think he’s really going to turn us in?”

“No,” Nat said flatly. “I think he would have gone back already or turned himself in by now, hurting like this. You don’t just walk around with something like that under your shirt unless you’re really fucking determined. But I don’t need the others on the phone lecturing me about taking him in, either. This boy needs help? We’ll give him help. That’s what we goddamn do.”

Jake nodded, firmly, a hint of a smile on his broad face. “That’s why I choose to stick with your house, Nat. I like that you don’t turn ‘em away.”

“Yeah, well. Tell me how much you appreciate that when this kid gets us up to our necks in trouble.”

Jake glanced down at the boy’s face - eyes clenched shut tightly, breathing in harsh, shallow little gasps so that his chest moved as little as possible. “I don’t think he will.”

“Hmph. Jenna clearly thought differently.”

Jake hesitated, then said softly, “I feel for her, but you know it wasn’t really him Jenna was kicking, right?”

“Yeah. I know. What do you think Nine was up to while they were throwing this kid out just for being what WRU trained him to be?”

“I imagine he was sitting in the fucking attic, Nat, that’s the only thing he ever does.”

“Fair. Nine definitely keeps to himself…” Nat stopped on the small front porch, wood creaking beneath her feet, turning to look at the boy who still stared at her, blue eyes unblinking. “You know what… I’m gonna call Vince myself. He should know what happened, he’s been a wreck ever since they announced the kid was missing after that whole… mess with the-… you know. He’s been absolutely sure Grant killed him and is using the whole runaway thing as a coverup for the murder.”

“You sure about that?” Jake blinked at her. “Maybe call Tara instead, Vince can be kind of… emotional-”

“No.” Nat shook her head. “I’ll call Vince. Honestly - Tara might already know he’s popped up and been turned away, if Jenna called you she definitely made a whole damn round of calls to everybody. Maybe this won’t be a surprise.”

Jake cracked a grin at that. “Oh, man. I bet Tara had her half-deaf from yelling at her for it, too. I can hear her voice. ‘Hey, you want a great way to get a pissed-off pet to get your safehouse raided, how about kicking it out for no reason, Fucknuts McGee? Get your shit together, Jenna, or you won’t have a fucking safe house to go home to’. Tara hates when people are shit to the Romantics.”

Nat couldn’t help herself - she laughed, and the boy in Jake’s arms startled and then settled back down, whimpering again. “That sounds like her. God, we’d be half of what we are without her fire. But… still. Jenna’s just scared. We’re all a little scared, if we’re smart. Helping rescues that might not want the help is… it’s a risk we take.” She sighed, and reached out, brushing hair from the boy’s forehead. His eyes fluttered slowly open, hazy and unfocused, drifting over her face and then snuggling himself harder into Jake’s arms.

Poor thing. A total stranger who could just be the next one to hurt him, and he still clings hard to any sign of kindness, even if it’s false. I’m partially responsible for this - for all of them - right from that first poor boy I helped sign their fucking contract.

She could still remember the first one she had lied to, remember the name he’d signed on his contract. Isaac Thompson. Sweet guy, worried, thought he was signing up for a self-help program for his anxiety…

Nat swallowed back the bitterness of the memories.

She knew, after all, what had happened to Isaac Thompson. She’d seen him since, what was left of him. It wasn’t like there was anything she could do for him, not now. Her first great crime couldn’t be forgiven… but she could work to the bone to find atonement through all the others that had come after him.

“Have to help Jack,” The boy whispered. “Will you help me go back to him?”

“In a little while. Honey, before we get started helping you… what happened to you?”

He blinked at her, then looked down, as if becoming aware of his absolutely blood-soaked shirt for the first time, then wrinkled his nose - maybe he hadn’t known how he smelled from the infection until just then.

Then he smiled.

It was a soft, dreamy smile, and it made Nat’s blood run cold - underneath the shivering, frightened, soft hurting boy they’d found in the bushes she saw the first sign of something made of furious anger underneath.

“I happened,” The boy said softly.

“You did this to yourself?”

“He promised,” The boy said, his voice cracking and broken. “He promised me and he lied, and he said I could see him again and it would be okay, but it, it wasn’t, and… he lied about everything. I… I couldn’t… I couldn’t be lied to anymore. There wasn’t anything left to believe him.”

Nat slowly nodded. “What did he do, honey?”

The boy shook his head. “He lied.” His lip began to tremble, and when he spoke his voice was airy, breathless, but thick with tears. “S-So I cut his fuh-fucking lies out.“

Then he began to cry, hoarse cracking sobs that made fresh blood well up, tears rolling down his face, leaving tracks that dried too quickly against the feverish heat of his skin.

All Nat could do was nod one more time and open the door so Jake could carry him in. Jake held him close, whispered soothing, soft, comforting nonsense words to him.

Jake didn’t flinch away from the smell of the infection, or the fever. He didn’t mind, it seemed, the blood that smeared along his own shirt, the sweat from the boy’s skin that was left as a film on his. Nat loved Jake - and her rescues did, too.

He was the strong pillar of comfort that the Romantics needed, without expecting or wanting anything out of them in return. He was the perfect introduction to a world where you deserved to ask for comfort without having to worry that comfort meant giving away your body one more time, in a life where you didn’t remember a time when someone wasn’t taking it anyway.

By the time they’d laid some plastic out on the couch and put the boy down on top of it, he had slipped back into semi-consciousness, babbling to Jake, seeming to think he was someone else entirely, some name that rang as familiar in Nat’s mind but wasn’t anyone she knew, she didn’t think. He seemed to think Jake was another pet, but that was common - there hadn’t been another in Owen’s household, but that didn’t mean the boy had never met any.

She stepped into the kitchen, taking a deep breath, putting her hands briefly up over her face. She was alone - for once, Nat was perfectly and totally alone - and she let the guilt knock her over like a wave, let it run up and down her body, filling in all the empty places with a chorus of this is your fault, you helped them make this happen, you were one of the first employees, you you you you you.

She allowed herself only a few seconds - maybe a full minute - of the guilt. Self-pity, in her life, was a kind of luxury. Then she shook herself all over, set it to the side, and walked over to the cell phone lying on the kitchen counter, picking it up, looking at her contacts list. A series of numbers without names or labels, the burner phones they all bought and passed around to make sure no one number was associated with an address anyone might actually use it at.

You can’t be absolved for the things you’ve done, Natalie. You were the Pied Piper, once, and you can’t ever wipe away that it’s your fault, in part, that all these poor kids have lost their minds in the deepest, most complete sense of the word.

No… you can’t make the past any different. You can only make the choice to try and rebuild the foundations you helped that bitch learn to tear down.

She had a lot of phone calls to make now. First, though…

“Hey,” Nat said into the phone when the first number she called picked up. “Yeah, it’s me. Look, uh… Vince, is Tara with you? No? No, that’s okay, this is really a call for you anyway. You might want to, uh, to get ahold of her after you hear-”

A pause.

“Yeah, okay. Look. I have… some weird fucking news.”

Nat glanced over her shoulder, to see the boy in the couch holding tightly to Jake’s hands, and Jake leaning over to listen to him with an expression of reassuring total focus on his face.

“Weirder than that. Vince…”

The boy pushed himself up on his elbows, saying something slurred and urgent to Jake that Nat couldn’t quite hear. Jake slowly leaned forwards and rested his forehead against the boy’s, whispering back.

Nat smiled, just a little. God, she loved Jake. Couldn’t do the work she did without people like him.

Jake, who knew when a rescue needed to be left alone, or just talked to, or knew how to balance affection just right when the Romantics filtered in, touch-starved and terrified. Jake, who had a perfect instinct for when someone needed to be shown that you could even be touched in ways that weren’t designed to break you all over again.

“… Vince. Owen Grant’s boy is alive, and he’s in my living room.” There was a pause, and in the pause Jake smiled into the boy’s face and gently laid his hands back down. Nat felt tears prick her eyes. Even after eighteen years of trying to save them, sometimes it hit her with real force that while she couldn’t undo all the damage that had been done, she could keep trying.

Then Vince’s voice caught her off-guard - or not his voice, but what he said - and Nat froze.

“How long until you can see him? Have you lost your fucking mind? Are you drunk? It’s seven-thirty in the-…. You are drunk. Jesus. Vince. Sober up and call me back if you still think… no. Sober up first. If you still want to see him, tell me after… I don’t think it’s a good idea, but-… Fine. Okay. Goodbye.”

She hung up the phone, trying to think as she punched in Dr. Masood’s number next.

The wrong kind of attention and this boy could get her put in prison, her rescues hauled back to hell to be repaired or retrained or God forbid, refurbished. People like Jake would get put in jail for aiding and abetting if they were lucky, but Jake had a kind of fresh handsomeness to him and Nat was fairly sure he’d never see the inside of a jail cell… no, if this went south Jake would wake up in a white room, wearing a white shirt and black shorts, and since he knew all the tricks it might take a while, but soon enough he’d be a number and not a name.

Especially now that they had proof that it was happening already…

No.

She couldn’t live her life in fear of what could happen if she did the right thing. She could only keep trying.

They had to keep trying.

She couldn’t make up for Isaac Thompson and all the others, but she could keep trying to make up for it until the bitter end. Maybe, one day, it would feel like she had done even close to enough.

“Dr. Masood? I need you to come make a house call.”

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stevenuniversallyreviews · 5 years ago

Text

Episode 126: The Good Lars

“Maybe I should be trying to fix my life.”

The Good Lars is a massive bummer, and it makes me so, so happy.

Lars has always been a character with a ton of potential that, in my mind, is muted by his inability to learn. Pretty much all of his focus episodes have been about him taking a big step towards his character growing, but then resetting to his typical jerky self in his next episode instead of actually continuing that growth. On a rational level I can appreciate the realism in a stubborn character’s inflexibility, but even if it’s by design, it’s super frustrating to watch. The Good Lars shows that he still has a long way to go, and pointedly lacks the Lars Learns conclusion that Lars episodes like to bait us with, but this is where it finally feels like his story is going somewhere.

The New Lars was apparently the first step that stuck: seeing everyone, including his parents, prefer Steven-as-Lars to Lars-as-himself must’ve been a wake-up call. I love his final speech in that episode about hating how weird Beach City is, as it casts a surprising new light on his surly attitude, but after so many false starts we need some follow-through to make that speech fully land, and The Good Lars fits the bill.

Right off the bat, we see Lars take a genuine risk and put his food out there for Steven to try. We’ve known since all the way back in Lars and the Cool Kids that Lars’s apathy is a practiced act, and it’s hindered him again and again and again in every relationship he has. And we’ve known since Island Adventure that he’s a skilled cook, so it’s not a stretch that his abilities extend to baking. That he’d hide just how much he likes making food is totally in line with what we know about him, so it’s gigantic that he opens up about it here.

Steven is a terrific test subject for Lars’s food, as beyond his general kindness and enthusiasm, we’ve already seen him praise Lars’s food before in Island Adventure. The problem is that Lars is aware of this, which allows his self-destructive nature to undermine his sense of accomplishment in seeing someone love his baking. There’s not much critical value in praise from someone who only ever provides praise, and when presented with an opportunity to take an even bigger risk by letting the Cool Kids try his food, Lars flounders.

He may be growing, but he’s still cagey and irate. He takes a big step, but he’s too afraid to leap. But because he might move forward at last, because he might change his status quo on a show where the status quo is more than capable of changing, Steven and Sadie and the audience are given room to hope. Just enough room to hurt us when he can’t go through with it.

That fragile sense of hope radiating throughout The Good Lars is amplified by its status as the calmest episode in the show’s third act. It’s just so quiet compared to its surroundings, with no major confrontations by virtue of Lars’s pivotal moment of cowardice occurring off-screen. Our happy scenes are tinged with melancholy, and our sad scenes have glimpses of joy, and it’s the perfect tone to set for our last moment of peace before Steven’s life falls apart again.

All of my issues with Lars over the past 120-odd episodes are given new meaning as we see him waver back and forth in The Good Lars. Yes, it’s annoying that he refuses to retain lessons he learns throughout the series, but we see here that his dismal self-confidence doesn’t allow him to trust that he’d be accepted for who he is, so of course he falls back on prickliness over and over again.

To be fair, it’s hard to tell where he stands with Buck, who seems to enjoy messing with Lars but who also seems to genuinely appreciate Lars, but who also might only genuinely appreciate Lars out of irony because that’s totally a thing Buck would do, but who also might love irony so much that his ironic appreciation of Lars might wrap back around to genuine appreciation. It’s awesome that we see Buck in his Shirt Club tee showing off the guitar skills he picked up from taking lessons with Greg; referencing an episode that explored the downside of Buck’s allergy to sincerity paints Lars’s own attempts to hide how he feels in a damning light. Even we the audience can’t be sure if Buck thinks Bingo Bongo is “transcendent” because he likes it or he thinks it’s dumb and that it’s funny to say that it’s great. I'm pretty sure it’s the former, but from the episode alone there’s just no way to be sure.

So it makes sense that Buck, whose mastery of the detached facade is undeniable, is an aspirational figure for Lars, who’s uncannily bad at playing it cool. As much as I’ve praised the Cool Kids for being far more delightful than the Cool Kid trope often allows, they’re not without their flaws: it’s a little stinging that they still use terms like “Donut Kids” and “Donut Girl” instead of real names with their ostensible peers (but then again, they’re often referred to as “The Cool Kids”). Nobody, not even Lars, is fully to blame for Lars’s insecurity, but Buck’s affected demeanor sets a poor example for a kid who puts him on a pedestal.

Lars’s wavering consumes the first half of the episode, and throughout the baking montage we get shots like the above, where Steven and Sadie are capable of relaxing but Lars is obsessed with getting things right. It’s refreshing to see him so passionate, but this obsession is just another manifestation of his insecurity, his need to be perfect so that he’ll fit in. There’s a subtle cultural element to his ordeal, as ube is a traditional Philippine dessert that Lars writes off as “my family’s weird purple cake”—while I somehow doubt the Cool Kids are racist against Filipinos, it tracks that a kid who’s desperate to fit in would fear anything that sets him apart.

Still, it’s a pleasant sequence where Lars lets his guard down, first in the joy of baking and then as he opens up to Steven. His opinion that baking is lame is perhaps the most adolescent aspect of this very teenagey episode, because it’s an absurd notion which he believes so strongly that he can’t seem to fathom that it’s about the coolest skill you can bring to a group whose idea of a good time is a potluck. Lars thinks he’s lame, and he loves baking, thus he thinks baking is lame. His lack of self-worth even extends to people who like him, as he casually asserts that nobody knows he likes to bake when Sadie and Steven are right there; it’s a rotten thing to say, sure, but it comes from a severe confidence shortage.

Lars’s attitude is simple to understand early the series: he’s insecure, so he acts like a jerk to hide his soft interior. But The New Lars and now The Good Lars thrive by diving deeper and showing just how bad his self-esteem issues really are. This isn’t run-of-the-mill teen angst, it’s the kind of depression he describes in Island Adventure, and when we understand how much he’s suffering he suddenly fits right in with Pearl and Lapis Lazuli at their worst. This is what we needed of him for his big moment in space to hit home, so thank goodness we get it right on time.

Steven’s pep talk seems to do the trick, and we move into our third act with that bubble of hope just waiting to be popped. It becomes clear pretty quickly that something’s gonna go wrong when Steven excitedly amps up the ube, and seeing Sadie alone hammers the hard truth home, but before we make it official there’s a lovely moment of Sadie, who’s no stranger to awkwardness herself, quickly winning over the Cool Kids. I’ll never get tired of how great these kids are, and even Sadie will talk about it soon enough.

The search scene is a fascinating montage, showing Steven failing over and over but accompanied by a jaunty score that keeps our hopes alive despite what’s now an obvious conclusion. Steven’s leap into the air is the first big moment of the episode that involves weird Gem stuff, and its sudden appearance highlights how down-to-earth our little adventure has been; in the same way, his instinct to use mind powers is soon trumped by the human pragmatism of just calling Lars. It sets the stage for an all-too-human resolution to Lars’s story, as Steven’s phone call ends with him finding the ube in the trash right outside Buck’s house, right as he’s imagining aloud a reality where Lars lets himself be happy.

Which leads to our story’s greatest trick, the aspect that cements it as one of my favorites: despite the name and the deep focus and the new insights we gain from that focus, The Good Lars was never a Lars Episode. It’s a Sadie Episode, and it’s a beautiful one.

Sadie, like Lars, is afraid to branch out. But unlike Lars, she’s brave enough to try anyway, and shares her hidden love of singing with the Cool Kids. She’s so invested in helping others that she forgets that she’s allowed to help herself, and if that sounds familiar it’s because it’s Steven’s entire character arc. When the mood dips to its lowest point with the ube in the garbage, we could’ve had an ending that matches the sadness of a hurting kid failing even when his friends believe in him. But instead, we get a scene of quiet grace as Sadie shares her voice and is praised in the way Lars strove for. She hears that he’s not coming, and takes a deep breath, and lets it be. She can’t control his night, but she can control hers, and she chooses her own happiness instead of letting his issues ruin her evening.

She and Steven have both accepted Lars for who he is, and while both want him to move past the barriers he’s set up, the lessons of Sadie’s Song return with a vengeance in a way that makes me wish so badly that I liked Sadie’s Song. Steven has traces of his worst self from that story by wondering if they should’ve pushed Lars even harder, but as Sadie starts to agree with him, she realizes that no, they shouldn’t, because it’s not up to them to make Lars happy. They can try, and they should, but friends aren’t failures if their friends can’t take steps for themselves. It’s a hard lesson to learn, but it’s one last reminder that Steven shouldn’t put the world on his shoulders before Steven goes and puts the world on his shoulders.

I call this a Sadie Episode because she’s the one that grows in it. Lars is in his rut of inaction, just as Steven is in his rut of misplaced responsibility, but Sadie gains the confidence boost of new friends and a new perspective into her relationship with a guy who came this close to admitting that he loved her to Steven. Lars is about to fail her through his cowardice in the same way Steven is about to fail Connie through his hubris, and like Connie, Sadie will use the opportunity to stand up for herself. And let’s not forget that this is the episode where Sadie Killer meets the Suspects.

The cliffhanger from Doug Out goes unacknowledged until the very end of The Good Lars, especially because Sour Cream seems unfazed by Onion’s disappearance for now; perhaps some viewers watched the episode waiting for the other shoe to drop, and I imagine such a lens colored the whole story in a way it didn’t for me. I wasn’t surprised by the reappearance of the two Gem silhouettes, but it remains a spine-chilling way to end such a human-centric tale. And even this provides us with hope, allowing us to imagine that Lars didn’t bail after all and was simply kidnapped by aliens. Stuck Together soon snatches that hope away, which is par for the course for Lars’s arc, but it’s a powerful episode that can make a character’s kidnapping seem like a good thing.

I understand the irony of me saying that an episode about Lars going nowhere is the episode that finally sees Lars going somewhere, but as Mindful Education (and therapy in general) suggests, acknowledging the problem is the first step towards solving it. Lars is about to become a major player, and Sadie is about to earn a new arc of her own, and I can’t think of a better way to set up both of these threads than The Good Lars.

Future Vision!

Beyond the reveal that he trashed the ube before his capture, Stuck Together generally acts as a direct sequel to The Good Lars.

“Bingo Bongo” was magical from the start, evoking Root Beer Guy’s equally magical “Bingo Bango” from Adventure Time. But seeing Lars own it as a badass space pirate is great shorthand for how much he’s grown.

Steven’s pep talk to Lars about going to the party is echoed in his pep talk to Lapis about returning to Earth in Can’t Go Back. Not only because both speeches are good advice, but because unfortunately neither succeeds to make the listener move past their anxiety by the episode’s end.

A story about Steven trying to help someone hellbent on sabotaging themselves and hurting others? That sounds like a good idea for a movie!

We’re the one, we’re the ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!

As always, I’m a sucker for tone, and The Good Lars gets that feeling of teenage dreams grappling with the nightmare of depression just right, both for the victim and for friends of the victim (some of us got to be both!). It’s not overwrought, and we’re still allowed some joy, but it sucks to be so stuck in your head that you can’t move, and this episode captures that sensation way more succinctly than, say, Hamlet. Am I saying it’s better than Hamlet? Not really. But I heard somewhere that brevity is the soul of wit, and it’s certainly briefer.

Top Twenty-Five

Steven and the Stevens

Hit the Diamond

Mirror Gem

Lion 3: Straight to Video

Alone Together

Last One Out of Beach City

The Return

Jailbreak

The Answer

Mindful Education

Sworn to the Sword

Rose’s Scabbard

Earthlings

Mr. Greg

Coach Steven

Giant Woman

Beach City Drift

Winter Forecast

Bismuth

Steven’s Dream

When It Rains

The Good Lars

Catch and Release

Chille Tid

Lion 4: Alternate Ending

Love ‘em

Laser Light Cannon

Bubble Buddies

Tiger Millionaire

Lion 2: The Movie

Rose’s Room

An Indirect Kiss

Ocean Gem

Space Race

Garnet’s Universe

Warp Tour

The Test

Future Vision

On the Run

Maximum Capacity

Marble Madness

Political Power

Full Disclosure

Joy Ride

Keeping It Together

We Need to Talk

Cry for Help

Keystone Motel

Back to the Barn

Steven’s Birthday

It Could’ve Been Great

Message Received

Log Date 7 15 2

Same Old World

The New Lars

Monster Reunion

Alone at Sea

Crack the Whip

Beta

Back to the Moon

Kindergarten Kid

Buddy’s Book

Gem Harvest

Three Gems and a Baby

That Will Be All

The New Crystal Gems

Storm in the Room

Room for Ruby

Doug Out

Like ‘em

Gem Glow

Frybo

Arcade Mania

So Many Birthdays

Lars and the Cool Kids

Onion Trade

Steven the Sword Fighter

Beach Party

Monster Buddies

Keep Beach City Weird

Watermelon Steven

The Message

Open Book

Story for Steven

Shirt Club

Love Letters

Reformed

Rising Tides, Crashing Tides

Onion Friend

Historical Friction

Friend Ship

Nightmare Hospital

Too Far

Barn Mates

Steven Floats

Drop Beat Dad

Too Short to Ride

Restaurant Wars

Kiki’s Pizza Delivery Service

Greg the Babysitter

Gem Hunt

Steven vs. Amethyst

Bubbled

Adventures in Light Distortion

Gem Heist

The Zoo

Rocknaldo

Enh

Cheeseburger Backpack

Together Breakfast

Cat Fingers

Serious Steven

Steven’s Lion

Joking Victim

Secret Team

Say Uncle

Super Watermelon Island

Gem Drill

Know Your Fusion

Future Boy Zoltron

Tiger Philanthropist

No Thanks!

6. Horror Club 5. Fusion Cuisine 4. House Guest 3. Onion Gang 2. Sadie’s Song 1. Island Adventure

#the good lars #steven universe #su #steven universally #review

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bookstryingtostealyourheart · 6 years ago

Text

Someone Who Isn’t The Equivalent...

A/N: Here is my first real request! I had fun writing this...so please if you’re interested in requesting, look at my list of who I am willing to write for, or ask me in private message. I always answer!! :)

Pairing: Sweet Pea x reader, references of Reggie x reader, references of old sweet pea x josie

Summary: Sweet pea and the reader are going through the same situation; they are both stuck in an unofficial relationship. After one too many times being blown off or neglected by Reggie, the reader is starting to have enough. Her and sweet pea start to notice that they are going through the same thing, and confide in each other...and maybe something good will come out of it. They do both know what the other person wants.

Warning: toxic relationship references

Regret filled the air as Reggie slid his shirt back on, giving you a smirk. “I gotta run, my dad will be pissed if I’m not home for dinner. Can I make a rain check on Pop’s?” He asked casually and you shrug, pulling the blankets up over your body. This wasn’t the first time that Reggie has cancelled actual plans outside of your house...actually it was the second time this week, and its only Wednesday.

“Sure Reg, but can I ask you a question?” You ask turning to face him as he slides on his shoes. He looks up at you with an eyebrow raised. The sorrow in your voice ticked him off slightly. How could you be upset after what you two just did? He nods, awaiting the inquiry, even though you know he was impatient. “Are we gonna ever go on a real date, or am I just a booty call?” You question and he scoffs.

“Why do you always have to get sappy? We had a good time-”

“You’re ignoring the question.” You note with a sigh, turning back to face away from him as he grabs his phone and keys from your bed stand, and starts for the door.

“I’ll talk to you later Y/N, alright?” Reggie says briefly, exiting your bedroom, closing the door behind him. You knew you wouldn’t hear from Reggie again that night. You got up to take a shower, knowing the hot water may cleanse you from all your gloominess. Taking your phone off the charger for music in the shower, you see a text from Toni, asking you if you want to go to Pop’s with her, Cheryl, Kevin, Fangs, and Sweet Pea. Knowing it would be better than being stuck home alone with your thoughts and the cancelled plans with Reggie, you told her you’d be there in 30, and jumped into the shower. You didn’t need Reggie to have fun, especially with Kevin, Toni and Cheryl around. You and Cheryl did not always get along, but Toni definitely brought out her best traits.

Entering Pop’s, all your friends turned to see you, signaled by the bell. “Damn Y/N...took you a long time. Were you with Mental or something?” Cheryl asked with a giggle at her own nickname for Reggie and you shrugged, not showing the little pang you felt in your chest from her referencing him. You took your seat next to Kevin, across from the tall raven haired serpent you’d only spoken to maybe three times.

“If I was with him, I’m not now, so guess that’s all that matters...right?” You say, laced with brusqueness. Cheryl was of course taken aback, which made your face soften. You knew she didn’t do anything to you, so she didn’t deserve that. “Sorry. Long day.” You apologize and she waves it off. She was one to be angered by a little snappiness. That was basically her name at times.

After ordering your shake, you’d listened to Toni, Kevin and Cheryl give the group the latest gossip. You weren’t all that in the mood for gossip, but the fact that their faces lit up when they talked about it, made you happy. Fangs seemed into it too, but Sweet pea couldn’t look more somber. He was staring down at his phone, fingers typing a million miles per minute. You tried not to show your interest, but when he looked up and met your eyes with his hard brown ones, you couldn’t help but cower. No matter what Toni or Fangs say, he is not always a softy. He gave some mean looks, and this was the first time you’d ever been on the receiving end. That made you think back to the time when Reggie always talked about him, hating the serpents, all that bull-crap that you constantly tried to change. It was no use at the time. But now thinking about it, made you wonder why everything in your head went back to Reginald Mantle. You stood up, pushing your phone into your pocket. “Excuse me for a minute, I’ll be right back.” You excuse yourself and everyone nods. Making your way to the surprisingly clean bathroom, you looked at yourself in the mirror; your hair was normal, clothes were normal, but it was obvious there wasn’t something right in your face. Hearing your phone ‘Ding’, you looked down to see Toni’s name flash across the screen.

From TT: Do I need to come in there? Do you wanna talk privately?

You smile at the text, knowing she was worried. But did you wanna talk about it? But then you get another text, this one from Kevin.

From Kevin Keller: Incoming! Reginald Mantle just entered with the bulldogs!

Your eyes widened. “My dad will be pissed if I don’t make it to dinner, my ass!” you whisper to yourself, looking in the mirror once more before exiting the bathroom, making sure to strut just a little harder than normal, in case Reggie looked over. Sitting back at the table, all eyes but Sweet Pea’s were on you.

“I though-”

“It’s stupid. Let’s talk about something else.” You say and Fangs nods, seeing as there were a few vixens with them. This was casual, but he still lied to you. From the look on Sweet Pea’s face, it wasn’t something he wanted to see either, and it didn’t take long for you to guess why. Josie McCoy was with them. Sweet pea huffed, getting up out of the booth and practically stomping out of Pop’s. You felt for the kid. Of course, hanging around Toni you knew he liked her. You didn’t understand why, it seemed she treated him like trash in public, the one time you had seen them together or even remotely near each other in public that is. You followed the leather clad serpent, the bell dinging behind you as well.

“Hey Sweet Pea!” You say as he reaches his bike, he turns on his heels, seemingly not too afraid to bite if he didn’t like what you had to say.

“What do you want?” He snaps, clearly not in the neutral mood anymore. You sighed, knowing that Sweet Pea was easily frustrated, and you didn’t want to set him off. But you did want to say something. It wasn’t new for the group you’d been with to see him get walked on, even if Josie didn’t know she was doing it.

“Listen, I’m not trying to pity you, or make a sympathy group or anything...but I saw that in there. And it isn’t fair for you to leave without your shake, all angry. It isn’t safe to drive like that.” You reason and he cocks his head, raising an eyebrow at you. You could see the disdain on his face.

“Why would I want Mantle’s girlfriend telling me how to spend my night, and how to feel?” He asks and you narrow your eyes. Him calling you Reggie’s girlfriend made you more mad than you expected it ever would, but the way he said it felt patronizing. It caused your face to get hot.

“I am -not- Reggie’s girlfriend. But don’t you dare take out your anger for Josie on me, because I am just trying to be friendly. But you know what? I’m sick of standing up for people who don’t deserve it. You? Reggie? You’re all the same. Nobody else’s feelings matter but yours.” You say and start back for the diner, hands clenched. You were already agitated when you arrived, so it wouldn’t take much to really get you going.

You just barely reached the door when you heard hesitant footsteps. “Hey, wait. My bad, okay?” Sweet Pea says, reluctance and distance clear in his tone as he reaches the door with you, his hand holding it closed so you couldn’t enter. You turned around, and it was now your turn to raise an eyebrow at him.

“Sure. Your bad. Reggie is not my boyfriend. I thought he was, but he’s not. He is just playing me, so now that that is cleared, may I go?” You ask and he surprises you with a chuckle. It was a smooth laugh, that seemed genuine.

“May you go? Do you always have to be so polite?” He asked with a scoff. “You’re too good for Reggie, maybe you should ask your friend Cheryl to set you up with someone who isn’t the human equivalent to cat puke.” Sweet pea says honestly, letting go of the door. You weren’t sure if you really were having this conversation with Sweet Pea, or if you’d passed out in the ladies room. But it seemed to vivid to be fake. You could smell the burgers from inside, the smell of gas from the constant traffic on the road, and especially; Sweet Pea’s leather and cologne smell. It was exactly how Josie explained it to you, Toni and Cheryl in the locker room.

“Thank you?” You said turning to face the -very- tall serpent. You let your eyes hover on the tattoo that covered a small part of his neck. It was always much larger seeming from far away, jumping out at you when you saw it like a reflector on a bike. “You’re too good for Josie. Maybe you should ask your friend Toni to set you up with someone who isn’t the human equivalent to a children’s tea cup set.” You say and let out a chuckle, opening the door and entering. But this time you felt good meeting Reggie’s pouty eyes. Because Sweet Pea was right. He is the human equivalent to cat throw up, and you deserved better. It would be hard, but you can’t see Reggie anymore. That was the bottom line. When you reached the red booths once more, you heard the door open. You turned around to see Sweet Pea looking rather cheerful.

“Couldn’t forget to finish my shake, right?” He says sending you a sideways glance that you try to ignore, but end up cracking a smile instead. You shook your head as your friends eyed you both, as well as Josie and Reggie on the other side of the diner. It felt nice.

“God that would be a shame.” You comment sarcastically as you take the cup and slide it over to yourself, taking a sip. “God no, this is amazing.” You note, cracking a grin. You didn’t even like the flavor, but it was not that that mattered.

“So Cheryl, Y/N said she wants you to set her up with someone who doesn’t have the personality of cat puke.” Sweet pea piped up after a moment of silence. You gasped, sliding the shake back over.

“Um, no. He suggested it.” You remind him with narrowed eyes. Cheryl rolls her eyes.

“Toni said you two would be cute together a week ago.” She pipes up and you both whip your heads over to Toni. She had a bright grin on her face that mirrored Kevin’s.

“Whoa, I never said me.” Sweet Pea puts his large hands up in surrender, but Fangs throws them down, finally piping up into the conversation, sounding particularly jocular.

“You implied it my man.” Sweet pea shook his head, going defense mode, but more gentle and teasingly than he would normally, as it was Fangs he was talking to. He patted him on the shoulder patronizingly.

“You wouldn’t know that. You have a body count of like one.”

WANT A P2?

#riverdale #fanfiction #riverdale imagines #riverdale fanfic #sweet pea #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea imagines #southside serpents #requests open #new writers on tumblr #reggie mantle #x reader #the cw riverdale

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mastrechef · 5 years ago

Text

Drunk Card Games

Because I obviously have nothing better to do, my brain spawned this monstrosity. More or less a partial transcript of the New Year’s party I went to, but fused with FFXV. Warning: this is complete crack and utterly ridiculous. Read if you dare.

This first section involves the card game The Great Dalmuti. It’s become something of a tradition for my family and our family friends (who are basically just my extended family) to play this and Cards Against Humanity every New Year’s. I don’t really feel like explaining the game, so look it up if you’re interested. I tried to match people to the FFXV character that best fit them. Minimal editing only where I couldn’t remember exactly what someone said.

The Great Dalmuti: Movie Quote Edition

As the Great Dalmuti, Nyx declares that everyone must say a movie quote before they can play any cards. He begins the round.

NYX: Taxation is complete. Excuse me while I whip this out. Two twelves.

CLARUS: The Great Dalmuti has played two twelves! Oh wait, we’re not doing that.

NYX: No, we’re not doing the announcing.

REGIS: Look at me I’m Sandra Dee, lousy with virginity.

CLARUS and NYX break into cackles.

CROWE: And I’ll pass on that.

PELNA: What is it?

REGIS: Two elevens.

AXIS (softly): Two sevens.

NYX (expectantly): And? And? Gotta get a movie quote.

REGIS: Go Deadpool.

MONICA: He sees a movie every week. What’s your favorite movie?

Put on the spot, AXIS clams up. Everyone stage whispers suggestions.

AXIS (settling on a suggested quote): You'll shoot your eye out, kid.

Cheers break out.

REGIS: Christmas Story, that’s a good one.

PELNA: Pass.

NYX: Uh, I didn’t hear a movie quote.

CROWE: He didn’t play.

NYX (laughing): Ohhh! I think I want to hear one anyway! Every time you pass.

He breaks off into loud cackling again. The others join in.

NYX: Just for you.

PELNA: Tell me about it, stud.

More laughter.

IGNIS: We’ll have a magnificent garden party and you’re not invited.

NYX (dramatically placing his hand over his heart): Ouch! I felt that one.

MONICA: That’s a pass.

CLARUS: Sixes? Who has sixes?

CROWE (pointing out helpfully): Ignis does.

NYX: Pass.

Everyone around the circle passes.

CLARUS (for no particular reason): Badges? We don’t need no stinking badges.

People talk over each other as they all get distracted and break off into separate conversations. The new round goes to IGNIS. He pauses a moment in consideration, then begins chuckling to himself.

IGNIS: Tomatoes, sausages, nice crispy bacon.

NYX (through incredulous laughter): What is this movie? I don’t know this one.

IGNIS: That’s from Fellowship of the Ring.

PROMPTO (off to the side recording this for posterity): Yeah! It’s one of our favorites!

NYX: Oh. Really?

CLARUS (nodding knowingly): Hobbits.

IGNIS: At the watchtower, remember? Before Frodo gets stabbed.

NYX: Oh, ok.

CLARUS (off in his own conversation with REGIS): It’s full of stars. (emphatically) That’s a classic!

The game continues.

NYX: Pass.

NOCTIS: Pass.

REGIS (incorrectly quoting): Nice to meet you Miss Uumellmahaye.

NYX cracks up.

REGIS: Man With Two Brains, remember?

Everyone around the circle passes again.

MONICA: I don’t even need a movie quote. I don’t get to play.

CROWE: That’s what I was thinking.

REGIS: I’ve been saving… No, that’s my endgame. (pauses)

CROWE (grumbling): See, I can forget the end point.

REGIS: My end quote’s going to make Clarus laugh. This one is… I’m karate man! I bleed on the inside! Nine.

CROWE: Eight. I’ll be back.

AXIS: Pass.

PELNA: Six. There’s only one guy for me and you are not it.

Uproarious laughter, particularly from CROWE.

NYX: Why do I feel like all these quotes are directed at me?

IGNIS: I tried to start a revolution, but didn’t print enough pamphlets.

More laughter.

REGIS (in falsetto): We’re free!

NYX (affecting a feminine tone): Keep your filthy paws off my silky drawers. One.

REGIS: Oh, somebody wants to play.

NYX: I do wanna play. Uh… three eights.

NOCTIS: You’re not just wrong, you’re stupid.

REGIS cheers as everyone howls with laughter.

REGIS: Three fours!

CROWE (gleeful): That was so appropriate! That was perfect!

IGNIS: I think everyone passes on the three fours.

CROWE (to NOCTIS): Alright, darling.

NOCTIS (placing a card): And my axe.

REGIS: Pi. Ka. Chuuuu!

Random Highlights

-IGNIS: Time to die, obviously.

-CROWE: Glass? Who gives a shit about glass!?

-CLARUS: I’m sorry David, I cannot do--

MONICA: Wait, wait. (scans cards) ...pass.

Gales of laughter.

NYX: She does that to me all the time.

-CLARUS: Somebody get a shitload of nickels!

-CROWE (drawn out): As you wish!

-CROWE: Oh good god, you’re doing it again.

-AXIS: Do you know the muffin man?

REGIS (in a shrill voice): The muffin man!

NYX (also in a shrill voice): No not the gumdrop buttons!

-IGNIS: I can play, I’m just thinking of a quote.

CLARUS: You’ve got the whole darn movie memorized.

IGNIS: I’m trying not to repeat movies.

CLARUS: Then go to the Two Towers.

CLARUS and REGIS bounce around Lord of the Rings quotes (Fool of a Took!, Po.Ta.Toes, They have a cave troll).

IGNIS: The salted pork is particularly good.

-CLARUS: I know what he has. My problem is--

NYX: What do you mean you know what I have!?

CLARUS: I GAVE IT TO YOU!

NYX: Oh! You remember that shit?

CLARUS: Of course! They were my best cards!

-NOCTIS: Help, I’ve been impaled.

-CLARUS: I knew it. Sharks.

REGIS: Ohhh, nice.

CLARUS: I’m out! I don’t think he actually said that in the movie, but, you know. I’m NOT closing the beach! This is not a boating accident. He did say that in the movie.

REGIS: Yes.

CLARUS:You and I quote a lot of things from that movie that weren’t in that movie.

-REGIS: (unintelligible gurgling) Five.

NYX: Was that from--

REGIS: Chewbacca!

CROWE: That was every Chewbacca line.

-PELNA: I’m serious and don’t call me Shirley.

-IGNIS: Laugh it up, fuzzball.

Bonus: Song Lyric Edition

-NOCTIS: His palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy, there's vomit on his sweater already, mom's spaghetti.

REGIS (confused): Mom’s spaghetti? What kind of song is that?

IGNIS (pushing his glasses up): I believe it is one of the early works of the rapper Eminem.

-Someone starts singing Conjunction Junction. Everyone but NOCTIS and PROMPTO join in.

EVERYONE: Conjunction junction, what’s your function? Hookin’ up words, and phrases and clauses.

REGIS (chuckling): Noctis wouldn’t know this one.

-REGIS (singing): I’m just a sweet transvestite~

IGNIS joins in enthusiastically.

Cards Against Humanity

-Literally every time Noctis reads something the slightest bit dirty

REGIS (mock glaring): Who made my son say that!?

-CROWE: (reading cards unintelligibly while laughing)

NYX: Wait, wait. Can you read that again? I don’t think I heard it the first time.

CROWE (somewhat composed until breaking into giggles again): When all else fails, I can always masturbate to slowly easing down on a cucumber.

-CROWE: Live like you’re a dance move that’s just sex. Live like you’re my boyfriend’s stupid penis.

Profuse giggling.

NYX (referring back to an earlier conversation about wifely duties): Oh, really. Does he help with the house work?

CROWE: Oh, my goodness, none of these are good, they all suck.

CLARUS: No they don’t, mine’s great!

REGIS: But obvio--

CLARUS: Mine is awesome!

REGIS: --usly mine’s the best. Obviously mine is the best. Out of all of the ones that suck--

CLARUS: Only mine made sense.

REGIS: --mine sucked the least.

CROWE mumbles a bit to herself.

CROWE (declaring): A dance move that’s just sex.

NYX (excited): That’s me! How is that possible?

REGIS: How could overthrowing the government of Niflheim not be your answer?

CLARUS (disgruntled): Boyfriend’s stupid penis.

-IGNIS: Okay, I’m going to read the card now. (clears throat) In the distant future, historians will agree that the thin veneer of situational (stumbles) causality that underlies porn marked the beginning of Lucis’ decline.

NYX: That’s…

REGIS: That’s a big card.

CLARUS (referencing an earlier joke): Hey, the pizza guy’s here!

CROWE: Wow, that’s a lot of words.

CLARUS: But it’s funny.

REGIS: Yeah, it is.

IGNIS: In the distant future, historians will agree that Judge Judy marked the beginning of Lucis’ decline. Well I guess Lucis declined a long time ago.

CROWE: Judge Judy’s been around a looong time.

IGNIS: In the distant future, historians will agree that eating an albino marked the beginning of Lucis’ decline.

MONICA: In Niflheim, they think they’re magical. They take off pieces of them. They have to hide their albino children or people will like, amputate their arms and legs and stuff.

REGIS: Wow.

NYX (surprised): I was not aware of that.

REGIS: Monica’s been reading a lot of National Geographic lately.

NYX: Turn off Youtube on Monica.

A lot of talking over each other.

NYX: If I were an albino, would you eat me?

IGNIS: I really like this one.

Everybody shushes each other.

IGNIS: In the distant future, historians will agree that switching to Geico marked the beginning of Lucis’ decline.

Explosive laughter.

NYX: That is good. That is good.

CROWE (laughing uncontrollably): Switching to Geico, is that what you said?

IGNIS (confirming): Switching to Geico.

NYX: Switching to Geico. Yes that’s great.

IGNIS: We started declining a long time ago, then.

NYX: It all started with a switch to Geico.

REGIS (out of nowhere): Aflack!

IGNIS: In the distant future, historians will agree that daddy’s belt marked the beginning of Lucis’ decline.

CLARUS: No, no, we go back even further.

REGIS and CLARUS randomly break out into song. NYX joins in. CROWE admonishes them.

NYX: I’m sorry, we’re distracting.

IGNIS: In the distant future, historians will agree that my worthless son marked the beginning of Lucis’ decline.

NYX: Oh, ouch.

IGNIS: In the future, historians will agree that vigorous jazz hands--

Everyone throws out their hands.

CROWE: Jazz hands!

NYX: Jazz hands!

IGNIS (snickering): --marked the beginning of Lucis’ decline.

REGIS (contemplating): It could be.

MONICA: Like this.

CROWE (softer): Jazz hands!

REGIS: It’s like a fast royal wave.

IGNIS: Like Jack from uh… like Will and Grace. (throws out hands) Jazz hands.

MONICA: But you’ve gotta wave ‘em. (demonstrates)

IGNIS: In the distant future, historians will agree that the power of the dark side marked the beginning of Lucis’ decline.

Everyone groans.

IGNIS: I mean, if they watch this most recent movie then maybeee…

NYX (laughing): Oh, the most recent movie.

IGNIS: Then maybe.

REGIS (in the background): Suffer, suffer, suffer, the dark side.

IGNIS: In the distant future, historians will agree that getting hilariously gangbanged by the Blue Man Group will mark the beginning of Lucis’ de-decline.

CROWE: You can’t even read it.

IGNIS: No, it’s switching to Geico.

CROWE (triumphantly): Mine!

CLARUS: Noooo!

#ffxv #crack #crackfic #don't ask me what this is because I don't know #my brain does weird things in a moment of boredom

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sir-adamus · 7 years ago

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The Case for Wings

alrighty so Wings has been a hot debate in this fandom for a loooong time over who the singer of the song is supposed to be (it’s most certainly about Blake, but the identity of the singer is somewhat ambiguous)

so i’m gonna just go into how i see things on that score; i’m gonna avoid going into creative speculation on this, and just try and stick to to the facts, how i’ve interpreted them, and how those facts correlate with each other

now, right out of the gate, i have to say that from what i can tell, Wings is not a terribly romantic song. the subject of the song, Blake, is referred to as ‘baby’, but other than that there’s nothing really indicating romance; it’s primarily a song of support and care from the singer to the subject - the singer sympathises with the subject and understands how they feel about being ‘stray’ and encourages the subject that they’ll soon ‘take flight’

now a common interpretation for who the singer of the song is that it’s Weiss, as it played at the end of a two parter which involved the two clashing and then reconciling, plus there’s reference to “twelve hours”, which is part of Weiss’s dialogue over how long was spent searching for Blake and working things out

however, i don’t think the song makes sense from Weiss’s perspective - as mentioned, the song is primarily supportive and encouraging, which doesn’t reflect Weiss’s behaviour in the scene it plays in - she wants to just move past the argument because she’s realised Blake being a Faunus doesn’t bother her, they’re still friends and teammates, so she doesn’t need to hear Blake’s explanation - there’s no real sense of understanding or being sympathetic to Blake’s experiences which lines like “I know you can't stand the thought of/Being stray” kind of allude to

the perspective i feel does make the most sense for Wings is Yang’s, for several reasons, both based on details we had as early as volume 1 that kinda passed us all by as well as details that have come along as the show has progressed which kinda build to lean on that interpretation more

so to start with, there are a couple of other songs on volume 1′s soundtrack which lead to this interpretation

the first point is Gold - Gold is another supportive and encouraging song that describes Yang’s love for her little sister Ruby. so there’s already precedent for that kind of song

second point is that both I Burn and Gold, both Yang songs, reference flight - “ High as you can go, but I'm the one who's gonna soar.” and “Love's around you/ In time, you'll fly.” respectively. this is important because flight imagery also comes up in Wings - obviously from the name, but also the line “You’ll take flight soon baby”

this flight imagery carries over to a few of Yang’s other songs, which reinforces the connection; “My misery/My agony/Has taught me to fly” from Armed and Ready, and “Maybe help you find your wings and fly” from All That Matters (notable because this is a pretty overt reference to Wings and the song is outright a song from Yang’s perspective to Blake)

so i feel already there’s a lot connecting Yang to Wings

additionally, Wings doesn’t really sound like Weiss - like it’s hard to imagine her calling anyone ‘baby’, while it’s not that hard to imagine Yang doing so

in addition to this, while it’s of dubious canonicity (the interview often citing ‘the songs aren’t canon’ is heavily misinterpreted because the intention behind that statement seemed to be more ‘this isn’t 100% them saying this’ - like RLR Pt 2 clearly isn’t a conversation that actually happened between Ruby and Summer because it’s talking about the event in which Summer died - it’s more conveying emotions and intent, not 100% “this is what they’re saying in this moment”. it likely also meant more that the songs are made with applicability, like you don’t need the context of the songs to understand what they mean) because there was no creative consultation done with RT during production of it as it wasn’t made to be used in an episode of volume 4 (and only got into volume 4′s soundtrack because of an injury, though Jeff was working on it before the injury, meaning it was likely intended to get creative consultation and be put in volume 5 somewhere maybe), of course i’m talking about BMBLB - which Jeff still made with characters in mind, so would have their ‘voice’ in mind for it - that has the subject of the chorus referred to as ‘baby’

so two soundtrack instances involving Blake involving someone being called ‘baby’. weirdbut let’s talk about Wings as a leitmotif

Wings is used as a leitmotif 4 times across the series - once in 1x15, before the full song debuted, when Ruby wakes up and sees Blake’s empty bed, which enforces it’s connection to Blake, if nothing else. the next time it played was in 2x01, after the scene has jumped to Blake looking through her notebook, and looking at her doodles of Adam, it stops as Yang leans in to ask what she’s doing - again, mainly connecting the song to Blake, though the juxtaposition of it with Yang’s appearance is interesting

third time it played was in 3x04, as Qrow leaves with some encouraging words to his nieces - this definitely plays into the supportive and encouraging tone of the song, as well as connecting to flight imagery (because Qrow can turn into a bird and fly - which also connects back to Yang because she’s part of the Branwen bloodline)

and the most recent time it played was in 5x13 - though often disputed, i’ve made a couple of posts and finally audio and video posts on this which put it pretty conclusively. also, while i can’t confirm the veracity of the statement, a reddit thread talking about the good parts of volume 5′s soundtrack mentions that Alex Abraham confirmed Wings is used as a leitmotif in 5x13 (i won’t be linking the thread, though as of the writing of this post it’s still up, as the OP wants to avoid shipping drama - which this subject tends to bring up - and linking it could lead to the thread, and thus only source we have, getting taken down and/or lost) - playing as Blake enters the hall and everyone reacts in shock (specifically starting just as Yang sees her) and she looks around and only says Yang’s name. it also echoes the first time the full song played, which was RWBY reuniting after being broken up temporarily (Blake even ran away both times)

which i feel definitely reinforces that connection (especially as All That Matters, which we got a snippet of in the next episode, also references Wings)

but finally, let’s talk about how it makes sense for the song to be from Yang’s perspective based on her actual character and her interactions with Blake

Yang is a very caring character, and very supportive to those she cares about - this side of her also comes about a lot, especially following volume 2 where her character came into focus a lot more (as she was mainly in the background in volume 1) - Yang demonstrates how much she understands and sympathises with Blake in 2x06, which is how she’s able to get through to Blake because she’s been in Blake’s position. later, in 2x10, when Blake expresses her self-doubts over her ability to realise her ideals of equality, which Yang is vocally encouraging and supportive of “I’m sure you’ll figure it out, you’re not one to back down from a challenge, Blake”

in fact that 2x06 conversation and the fact that no one else was able to get through to Blake shows that Yang, out of any one of her friends at Beacon, knows and understands her the most - so surely it makes sense for her to be the perspective of a song from a perspective of knowing how the subject feels when Yang gets Blake in a way no one else really seems to do

finally, there are a few counter-arguments i’d like to address on this score

“but Weiss was the one who said the ‘twelve hours’ line” - that is true, no denying that. however, the song only references those twelve hours passing, and Yang was with Weiss for all of it - in addition, Yang is the one shown most upset by Blake leaving, which makes how that line is followed “Twelve hours/Is a long night./When you're searching/With no hope in sight.” - Yang is more visibly worried about not finding Blake in 1x16, even calling Weiss out for seemingly not caring, so lines like this make more sense from her (especially given her history with people leaving - that’d surely do a number on the amount of ‘hope’ she’d have in that situation)

additionally, later song, All That Matters is a reference to something Ruby said, but that song is still Yang’s perspective

“but it played at the end of a Blake and Weiss centered episode” - that doesn’t really mean much though, i mean Red Like Roses Pt II played during RWBY and JNPR’s initiation fights against the Nevermore and Death Stalker, despite it being a duet between Ruby and Summer. plus it’s primarily the credits theme of the volume, which doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with the content of the episode it plays in

like Sacrifice comes off (with the benefit of hindsight) as a Raven song, despite her not having much involvement at all with volume 2 beyond Yang bringing her up for the first time, her saving Yang a few episodes prior, and the unexplained stinger afterwards

then there’s Divide, which primarily covers Salem’s grudge with Ozpin, which we only got a little of at the end of that episode, and it’s mainly referencing the extended conversation between the two of them that we got the start of in 1x01 and the end of in 3x12

Armed and Ready is about Yang’s arc across volume 4, recovering from the trauma of losing her arm, but that wasn’t an overarching factor in 4x12

This Time is about working to undo the damage of the White Fang and making a new brotherhood, which does come up in 5x14 but it’s mainly referencing speeches from earlier in the volume, and not much to do with the main content of that episode

you get my point, just because a song is used in the credits of a volume doesn’t mean it’s tied to the events of that episode, and may be in reference to earlier events or foreshadowing later events

ultimately i feel like, keeping in mind Yang’s characterisation and strong dynamic with Blake the use of flight imagery in Wings (and the ties that has to Yang) and how it was used in the moment they saw each other again after being apart for months, with all the focus that had been building up to the two of them in particular reuniting and reconciling - then being followed in the next episode by another song that has a pretty overt reference to Wings and is pretty clearly about Blake from Yang’s perspective - it makes so much more sense for the singer of Wings to be Yang

obviously songs are up to interpretation and we don’t have official confirmation one way or another, and there’s nothing stopping you interpreting the song however you like; but these points which have built up over the years are a lot of the reasons why the interpretation of Yang as the singers’ perspective of Wings has been around for the last few years (i personally made the connection based on soundtrack stuff in the post-volume 3 hiatus, before a lot of these points came about)

#RWBY #Wings

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damian-lil-babybat · 7 years ago

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Damian: Batman and Son (Re-imagined)

Summary:

'Father,' the tip of Damian's sword ran slowly across the caped man's neck, the pressure has all the intent to kill and yet was never enough to break the skin, 'I imagined you taller.'

AN: Highly based on the first appearance of Damian Wayne in the issue of 'Batman and Son.'

Inconspicuously, his head tilted towards the driver's seat. Damian's eyes shifted under the blindfold securely placed on his eyes. Ballistic nylon, double stitched with 90% rayon and 10% silver, anti-EM/RF radiation cloth. Impressive, to say the least. Even if he could easily take it off, he let the constraints stay to appease the man whom his mother claimed to be his father.

The title came too easily, so natural that it felt—right, in its own way.

His mother, after all, had briefed him extensively and exhaustively about his biological father, both as Batman, and Bruce Wayne. No, not Bruce Wayne. Mother was not much interested in the man behind vigilante crusader. But only a few minutes of searching on the League's connections was all Damian needed to know everything about the billionaire philanthropist playboy of Gotham City. And, of course, the Batman.

He scoffed as he remembered the menacing cowl, entirely theatric, the cape, again overly dramatic, and the symbol of a silhouette of a bat on his chest, in case an idiot would not get the reference, perhaps?

Being under his mother's tutelage and Al Ghul's brand of education, Damian had seen his fair share of worse and crazy. A full-grown man with no augmentation or mutation, wearing a costume every night would be on the lowest end of the spectrum, in his book. And after all, he had never expected his biological father to be normal to begin with. Any man who gets the attention of Talia Al Ghul should be nothing if not—exceptional.

It is interesting, he thought as he continued silently sitting in the passenger's seat of the Batmobile.

Typical of mother, to leave him on irritatingly amusing situations with nothing but clothe on his back and his sword. She gave him one statement and one statement alone before ushering him to follow his father. He clicked his tongue. He had stopped questioning every and all of his mother's actions at age four, he'd rather not start now. But this time, he could sense something momentous.

To study and learn from his father, the boy can't help the smirk that works on his lips.

Damian had proven himself worthy of the heir of grandfather and had received his mother's approval. Should it not only be natural to have father's too?

'You can open your eyes,' Damian felt the tension on his blindfold loosen and finally saw the scene before him, 'We're here. This is my cave,' father continued and the older man made a poor show not to mix the pride in his voice.

Granted, Damian would have quipped a comment or two about the lack of utility of space, but the boy held back, still trying to capture the overall inexistent layout of the place. A looming dinosaur on one end, a joker card hanging from the ceiling, and the 'toys' for lack of better term to use on his father's gadgets. Months of studying the Bat meant he has garnered data and information that needed only a few seconds of cross-referencing.

By the time the boy had already devised five escape routes, ten to infiltrate and another six methods to disable their alarms and servers (the ones visible were boringly modeled around Wayne Tech), the man in the cowl had already finished his topic about 'his new home.'

Damian was too preoccupied that before the boy could act, his father was already kneeling in front of him with two firm hands placed on his small shoulders. The gap on their size had never been more evident at that moment. The gauntlets precariously resting on Damian had even covered up to his collarbone.

One simple maneuver and it was enough to break bones.

The image put alarm bells on the young assassin's head but he stifled the urge to retreat. Doing so would mean he saw Batman as a threat, and that would defeat the purpose of why he was here.

Then in one breath, his father offhandedly gave him a role to play with, and orders to obey.

'If you intend to stay with me, we'll put that training to good use in the fight against crime,' he heard him announced loud and clear and Damian did not appreciate it.

But when he looked up, in a split second, Damian finally felt that he was face to face with the man, Bruce Wayne, and not the vigilante superhero. The few features that can be gleaned from his mask shows clearly a pair of eyes that mirror his own with the only difference in color. Damian had his mother's eyes, he could see that now, however, the ones directed at him looked...disappointed, and full of pity.

What is that? Why is that?

Damian snapped, flinging away from the unnatural intimate gesture and those sad looks. 'Fight crime? Hah!' don't make me laugh. What exactly is so great about fighting crime? He wanted to retort but clamped his mouth shut as he felt his temper rising again.

There's this growing impulse to drag this person on the ground and wiped that look on his face.

How dare him mock me. Pity? What part of me should be pitied?

Damian tried to change the subject to mundane stuff, things he had no time to think about as he tried to reign in his unjustified indignation. It's been years since he received such condescending stares, and the last time it happened, that very same person had begged with his own eyes as tributes.

'Damian, your mother said she sent you here to learn,' Bruce continued without masking the irritation in his voice, emphasizing the word 'learn' as if Damian himself was lacking. Two hours flight, thirty-three minutes in Batmobile, and this was the first time Damian heard him said his name. And it felt nothing, it meant nothing.

'My mother was never there for me...' Damian said in an even voice as he tried to remember his mission. He turned his back on his father and continued mouthing off a useless justification for his mother's decisions. Decisions, he once tried to understand. But what is the use?

Before long, he was already having his way at the Batcave. Half of what the boy was saying was lost as to what he was actually thinking. 'Is this your new Batmobile?' he callously remarked as he flung the blanket away from what he supposed to be one of his father's pet project.

'It is not finished yet,' the boy felt Bruce loom behind him disapprovingly. There was an undeniable finality on those words that simply irritated Damian. It's been such a long time since he heard that tone from anyone, it filled him with such a jarring nostalgia that he was gritting his teeth. 'We need to talk,' the man added, a clear dismissal of his behavior as childish. Him? Damian Al Ghul Wayne, the rightful heir to League of Assassins, the same ruthless blood of Al Ghul was coursing through his veins...childish?

They might be of blood, but they have not met more than a day ago, and the man has the gall to use a high handed tone as if he knew him. But when Damian saw that unwavering stare of his father, he had enough.

And with this range, it was more than enough.

'Fight me!' Damian almost growled and leaped at the man, grabbing the chance to lash out. He hated how it sounded shrill on his ten-year-old voice when the challenge was an honest duel with his life on the line.

'Don't be ridiculous,' a simple backstep was all it took to counter his kick. He had good reflexes, Damian thought. And when Damian's jab connected, he knew the older man had enough brawn to overpower him, and yet his father pulled back and had even stubbornly refused to draw weapon.

Why?

'Show me respect and fight!' he shouted, going low and landed a solid one on Bruce's stomach.

'You're good...but,' was that a compliment, funny how it sounded sarcastic. Damian was too busy figuring out how to take Batman down that the next statement was drowned in his anger. And just as Damian was trying to calm himself, it was followed by words he had heard all his life, 'you're not good enough.'

You're not good enough. Ra's Al Ghul used to say that. And he had made sure all his life that he would be immune to such remarks, and yet...damn it.

Damian continued his assault.

'My weekend in the mountains was pretty uneventful,' all of a sudden, a stranger's voice cut through their duel. Cheerful, nonchalant words without a hint of hostility, echoed throughout the cave. And there standing a few boulders away from them was an equally ridiculously, albeit less monochrome, dressed masked teen, 'What did I miss?'

'It gets worse,' Damian muttered under his breathe, as he spied the young man behind his father.

'Robin. I'd like you to meet Damian,' the relief of his father was too obvious, it was stuck ringing in his ears. 'He'll be staying for awhile.'

So this is the third Robin. Timothy Jackson Drake. Instantly, a list of background checks clicked on his mind as he retrieved his brass knuckles back under his glove.

Drake walked closer, all smiles and friendliness. From where he stood, Damian already found the intruder insufferable. 'Hey, how are you?' Robin asked while giving a knowing look at his father as if saying, 'again? You've brought another lost boy, somewhere?'

Damian could almost hear Bruce sigh as an answer.

This is wrong. What is wrong with this man? Why is he not protecting father? Aren't I obviously trying to kill Batman, so then why is he simply standing there on a sideline?

Damian's gaze moved up and down on the newcomer. The will to fight left his small body in tension. The exchange of blows now seemed to have been discounted as nothing more than a 'ridiculous' with no one taking his challenge seriously.

On instincts, he studied Robin meticulously and ended up staring at Tim's outstretched hand in deep thought. The fourteen-year-old had his shoulders slouched, stance relaxed, feet unbalanced...too many openings, too many weaknesses to exploit, and not enough vigilance. A liability. And this adopted prepubescent runt is supposed to be the partner to father? This 'thing' was what father deemed to be 'good enough' to stand at his side? Preposterous.

'Umm,' the teen added, his extended hand awkwardly kept hanging in midair, 'here in my world, we call this gesture a handshake...'

'Don't patronize me or I'll break your face,' it was not a warning, it's a statement. A threat this Robin should take heed if he had a functioning brain.

'Enough! Alfred will help you unpack,' that tone again. What is with these people? 'It's been a long and difficult journey. You should get some rest.'

'Don't tell me what I should do!' Damian declared with as much authority as he was breed to have since he had learned his destiny. And yet, why is no one listening to him? He had been used to people hanging over to his every word, his every utterance the same weight as mother, and just as revered as grandfather, and yet these people can't seem to take anything he says seriously. It was exasperating! 'Mother let me do what I want!' he added sharply before he could stop himself, and Damian knew all too well how petty and petulant it sounded that he cursed inwardly.

'Things are different here,' his father made his ultimatum, and for all its worth, he has to agree. Things are very different. Nothing seems to work on common sense.

Bruce repeated his command. Before he could say anything more, Damian walked out bitterly. And with the old butler following behind his heels, muttering some servile perfunctory sentiments, Damian finally left off the curse that was stuck in his throat.

This is aggravating. What did I do wrong?

Damian looked at his surrounding, the soft four-posted bed, the nightstand with its lamps and vases that would not be out of place on any museum or art gallery, and an entertainment set immaturely designed for underdeveloped youth. He was standing at a table, stubbornly refusing to take a seat with a plate of roasted pheasant, grilled potatoes, and rigatello cheese placed in front of him, and a promise for more from a butler, named 'Alfred' who was content to stand guard behind Damian.

With the way the butler was looking down on him, Damian won't be surprised if the man was contemplating whether he had seen enough of civilization to know how to use a fork and a spoon.

He had dined with princes, and broke bread with sultans and oil magnates alike. This home-cooked fine dining was a joke in comparison. Add the room's obvious modern youthful exterior made him heavily feel like they were gravely treating him as a kid.

Pathetic. The boy returned the servant's scrutinizing stare, equally, and frowned at everything the butler and this room represented.

Comfort. Silence. Safety. With no one attempting at his life for half the night.

How is this supposed to educate me?

Comfort breeds complacency. Silence is suspicious. Safety is an illusion. Unless it was taken by your very own hands, one should question all. And not once did Damian had felt this emptiness to his surroundings that it creeps to his skin. Instead of helping him rest, it simply made his guard on so high alert that it was putting him on edge.

'Pennyworth, isn't it?' Damian said. Loathingly, even at his full height, he could only reach up to the servant's pristine white waistcoat.

'How may I serve you?' Alfred Pennyworth, butler to Bruce Wayne and his appointed babysitter, said courteously. Too courteously, it was almost an insult.

'I want my sword,' Damian said, dragging the words as he picked up the butter knife and twirled it expertly between his fingers. If their form of torture was to bore him to death, then they are gaining grounds.

'It is in my opinion that children should stay away from sharp objects,' Damian raised an eyebrow, he would have added how contradictory that was when his father had a literal line of boys armed, but the butler was quick to add, 'Awfully true to those reared to maim and kill, young sir.'

The boy scoffed, 'An unsolicited opinion from a servant. Father's management of his properties must be crippling to hire one of you.'

'I was not hired by Master Bruce.'

'You must have come with the inheritance then. Tell me, butler, exactly how am I expected to train without a weapon?' Damian clicked his tongue, 'Unless father wants me to be creative, that is.' The boy threw the knife across the room and struck, base deep, at a bust of a historical figurehead he would not waste time to learn. The rebuke was plastered all over the old man's expression.

'Yes, the arts of silver cutlery, impressive, if not extravagant," he shook his head and added monotonously, 'If I may, Master Damian, if you wish to train, a gym had been installed within this room,' and the butler gestured towards a punching bag hanging beside the window.

Damian frowned, 'you meant these decorations?' he strode towards the punching bag and started testing the boxing equipment—with test, he meant beating the bag with all the temper of a grade schooler. The restraints rattled like trinket.

'I prefer the cave—somewhere I could break things,' he exclaimed.

'A flair you seem to share with Master Timothy, no doubt.'

'To compare me to a future road-kill, you must have a death wish, Pennyworth,' Damian made a series of high kicks and jabs at the thing as an example. Despite his efforts to be menacing, the bag proved to be well-made and sturdy, and the only reaction he got was the old man's mouth twitching.

Still, the butler must have sensed that his concentration was elsewhere and mechanically offered the boy a towel. The motion seemed to have been practiced so many times that Damian could see the moment it dawned on the old man what he just did. That was, until his usual cold professionalism sets in once more.

Damian shrugged it off but did not refuse the towel.

'I also require a laptop, and a working net access, get to it, or do you need to demonstrate to me again how useless you are?' Damian demanded, taking care to make his voice as sullen and testy as he could.

The old man's calm facade seemed to crack.

To his defense, Damian was patient enough to let the old man pester him with more than the adequate amount of lectures which included a full explanation (with footnotes) about the stately Wayne Manor's rules on how not to raise a budding tyrant.

Satisfied he had the butler distracted, Damian scrutinized the plan again on his head while trying to work out his evening session without damaging any more properties.

It was careless of his father and that sorry excuse of a Robin to discuss a case within his earshot. They might not know that he could hear exceptionally well, but that was still unacceptable if they would prioritize security. Though standing for a lapse of time at the door long after the butler had closed and entered the passkey might have been unsafe, still, he had deemed it as a necessary risk.

And Damian found his eavesdropping to be fruitful.

He doesn't care if they talk behind his back. Though he can't help but frown at his father's supposedly obligatory 'love and respect' due to their filial relations. How archaic. The lip service on his behalf, that, he could also disregard.

If he needed to prove his worth, then there was only one way to prove it. How was it again? Vigilante work, is it not? Being a hero? Would that be too hard? The city is small, and there seems to be no end to criminals. Maybe a few initiative on my part wouldn't be too bad.

And he had to thank Drake for giving him that initiative. 'Spook'. 'Blackgate Prison'.

Now if only he could get a hold of more information and his sword.

Just to make sure, Damian continued to torment the servant and made an extra effort to his role as the demon spawn they all seem to equate him with.

'Why can't I get a laptop!?' Damian yelled once more, with his fist leaving a deep impression on the bag.

Just as he expected, Bruce came barging to the room.

At the sight of his father, Damian can't help but recall those shadowed eyes that seem to bear down on him. This time—it was filled with regret.

'He's all yours, sir,' Pennyworth dragged his exhausted body towards the door, 'My tolerance for colorful insults is wearing a little thin, I'm afraid.'

Perfect, he thought derisively, 'What have you done to my sword? Where are we?' the boy asked, straining his ears at the sounds of Pennyworth typing the key pass, while strategically spying at his peripherals as the butler made his way out of their father-and-son talk.

And while we're at it, why not torment father, too?

'This is part of my home, where I grew up. And you'll get a computer and the sword when I decide it's safe,' Bruce, still in his Batman suit, declared, 'I still don't know much about you, Damian.'

Then let me rectify that, for one thing, 'I hate it here!' Damian complained, not dropping the act.

'Too bad. You'll still be staying until we figure out what you mother's up to,' Damian opened his mouth to say something, but his father unceremoniously advised, 'you should eat.'

His mood dropped, which seemed to be the norm whenever he attempted to talk to his father, 'Eat? You call this food?!' Damian flung the plate and the sound of breaking porcelain was grating.

'It's actually pretty good...when you don't mix it with the wallpaper,' just hearing his father talk made Damian lose his calm. Somehow, the act became reality with every punctuation from his father pushing his displeasure.

Complaisant, disdainful...what exactly does...

'I suggest you rest.'

'Rest'. This was the second time he had ordered Damian to rest. As if his father was shooing a cat, or any domestic animal, out of his way. A burden he wanted to be tucked away to bed and out of sight.

Something gave way inside Damian. The fury came like hot metal searing him into a numbness that he simply blurted out his anger unthinkingly.

'I've been sent here against my will!'

Damian didn't choose to be here. But he is. Now. Here. And the first thing his father wanted was to play 'house' and leave him with a bumbling servant who has no sense to heed orders, and consequently preserve his own life!

'You can't make me do anything I don't want to do!'

His father won't even test him. Won't even give him merit. Or a trial to show what he was capable of! And he wanted Damian to call it a night?

He's still not finished with his outburst, when his father bellowed, 'Enough!'

The fires fueling his emotions ebbed just as instantly when he saw his father's unreadable expression.

Batman had mastered intimidation to perfection and he seemed to have no qualms to unleash all of it to his son, 'You dishonor your sensei with this loss of composure! Your rage is born of fear and is unbefitting in a student of martial arts!'

The older man stepped closer, the dark cape cast a shadow as dark as the deepest of abyss, and the boy didn't realize that his body has reeled back until he felt the corner of the table pressing from behind. The threat from those eyes was real that Damian could feel the sweat forming in the palm of his hand.

'You'll be given opportunities to prove yourself to me. Until then, Boy...Patience is a virtue!'

Damian gulped. He could feel goosebumps from his spine.

'Yes, yes father' he repeated his answer automatically, a natural response only his mother could pull out of him.

When he raised his eyes once more, his father was already gone. And he heard the unmistakeable locking mechanism of the door, shutting him in, indefinitely.

He paced the room. The butter knife he had retrieved a while ago was now tight in his grip.

Nothing changed, the boy thought while replaying the scenes with his father. If he had to take his father's words into consideration then that meant he was on the right track.

And Damian, of course, had drawn only one conclusion, it was a challenge.

He must proceed with the plan.

With that in mind, Damian took a deep breath and shifted on his seat in front of the television. A number of the latest playing consoles were sprawled on his feet and an audio system at one end. He took on the remote control and started clicking away, like a person going over his groceries.

He waited and skipped a few news channel.

Gotham's cable reception apparently was filled by hourly crime reports of the mean and the gritty and accentuated with base gossips and distasteful luxury.

But even so, Damian would find himself pausing a few seconds more whenever a channel would feature Batman. He had to admit, seeing things on a screen was different from seeing it in person.

He had watched and rewatched his father on footages going on nights on end, with his vigilante works, and it does not take half a brain to know that Batman was out there doing just that.

Despite their bouts, Damian was—is 'excited' the correct word for it?

In fact, the first time he saw his father's nightly escapades, under the supervision of his mother of course, he initially found it...cool. A man dressed as a bat, stalking the shadows for justice, ah yes, he would be taken to his grave before he would confess such thoughts.

He glanced at the mess of his dinner still left untouched and sneered.

Another chess piece.

It would take a miracle for that old man NOT to came checking up on him. The butler might not act like a servant, but Damian can recognize the pride in which Pennyworth carries himself as a caretaker of the Wayne family.

He was surprised at the confidence he had at the butler, but he was sure Pennyworth would definitely clean up after him and for that, he had Damian's regards if nothing else.

After a while, the boy found himself lost in his own thoughts. The changing visage of the monitor toss dancing lights on his face. The frown was gone and despite the intense look on his hazel eyes, Damian had looked exactly like any harmless innocent child lounging lazily in front of a screen.

But all of it changed when he saw his target. The assassin's mind instantly took over as his whole body became taut with precise sharpness drilled to him from countless training.

Spook.

It took considerable restraint on Damian's part not to roll his eyes. Questionable aesthetic both on the criminal name and on his wardrobe. Such a small fry was not even a blip on his radar when his data consisted of international threats and contingencies. He sighed when the news anchor zoomed in to show the hostage-taking. Granted even the minions had it bad. Blanket with cut holes for eyes? What a cheap preference only fitting for children stories.

Oh, how he would just fit right in.

With the name and face of his mission acquired, and the butler's timely, unmistakable, British drawl announcing his own intrusion, Damian took off the towel from his shoulders and silently slipped behind the door.

'Now, let's hunt,' he whispered to himself.

#Batman (Comics)#Batman and Robin (Comics)#Batman: Son of Batman #DC Universe #Batfamily #Batboys #Damian Wayne #Bruce Wayne #Batman #Robin #Tim Drake #Alfred Pennyworth #Talia Al Ghul

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corey-musick · 3 years ago

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musical web - 7-27-2021

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“Maple Leaf Rag” performed by Scott Joplin

Original listening log: "Maple Leaf Rag" is a very exciting piece of ragtime music. While Joplin's left hand maintains a steady meter, his right hand is playing a syncopated melody. He makes good use of dissonant chords, creating points of tension. It almost feels a little bit like being at a carnival or something, with the tense moments being similar to being pulled up a roller coaster before cascading down as the music resolves or begins to be more consonant. Another part that amde the song exciting was how freeform it was. There were certainly moments of repetition, but Joplin consistently introduced new melodies to the song, keeping listeners on their toes as he plays.

The very first listening log I completed for the class was for Scott Joplin’s classic “Maple Leaf Rag,” written in 1899. Going back and listening to it again after all I’ve learned in this class, I can see how Joplin took aspects of music before him (such as African musical syncopated rhythms and “dance music”) and used them in a brand-new way that would last for decades after he first composed the song. The way he uses rhythm and melody - setting a steady rhythm with his left hand while playing a syncopated melody with his right - can be found in a ton of popular music that followed (and some that came before) and set the standard for ragtime music of the early 20th century such as “Hello, Ma Baby.” Joplin helped to create a new type of music that felt, to many, uniquely American.

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“Cotton Eyed Joe” performed by Bob Wills and His Texas Playboys

Original listening log: As someone who has been to my fair share of middle and high school dances, I am definitely familiar with Rednex's version of "Cotton Eye Joe." This was, however, my first time hearing Bob Wills' version and I had no idea the song had such a long history. The predominant instruments I hear are the fiddle and the piano. The former is referenced in the lyrics themselves ("Hewn my fiddle and rosin my bow / Gonna make music everywhere I go / Gonna play a tune they call Cotton Eyed Joe"). It's a bit paradoxical to say you are going to play a tune called "Cotton Eyed Joe" on your fiddle in the future whenever you are doing just that in the present, but I think it adds to the fun that permeates this song. Whenever Wills is singing, the instrumentation is pretty unintrusive. The lyrics are pretty simple with a ABBCDD form where the Bs are the same and the Ds are the same. Again, I feel that this song is meant to be a fun dance song. While the lyrics are almost a little tragic (the man wasn't able to get married because of this elusive Cotton Eyed Joe), they're really not meant to be taken to seriously. Instead, the simple form and energetic, jaunty piano and fiddle accompaniment just makes me want to dance!

Wills’ version of “Cotton Eyed Joe” combines American popular swing music with folk/country tunes. Like “Maple Leaf Rag,” “Cotton Eyed Joe” is also dancing music, and it even has the same steady beat underscoring a syncopated melody that Joplin’s “Rag” has. Another interesting connection is the rhyme scheme Wills uses, one that is ABBCDD where the Bs and Ds are repeating lyrics. It calls to mind the AAB rhyme scheme blues uses where the As are repeating lyrics. As the song has its roots in big-band swing/jazz, this makes sense, but it is not a connection I have made until this moment. Even the lyrical content kind of fits in with this comparison to the blues - the lyrics are kind of sad! The man was never able to get married because of Cotton Eyed Joe and he is lamenting that in the song, albeit over a jaunty dance tune.

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“Countin’ the Blues” performed by Ma Rainey

Original listening log: I really enjoyed this piece. Having never listened to Ma Rainey, I would say this was a terrific introduction. This song is what I think of when I hear someone mention the blues. Ma Rainey's rich, sorrowful vocals really show how badly she has the blues. It almost sounds like she's groaning and struggling under the weight of her melancholy, trying to express her feelings and say what she needs to say. The lyrics themselves follow an AAB form characteristic of classic 12-bar blues. I am particularly interested in how she namedrops a couple of different blues songs in the second verse including "Beale Street Blues," "Bama Bound Blues," and "Stingaree." She is quite literally counting different blues songs by doing so. It reminds of how when some people get sad, they want to listen to sad music to help process or cope with their emotions. The instrumentation of the song perfectly communicates the melancholy tone of the song, with the cornet, clarinet, and trombone players seeming to (for lack of a better term) really take their time to play the music. Coupled with Ma Rainey's slow, steady, sad vocals, the entire song has a melancholic tone that is incredibly effective in communicating the message of the lyrics - the singer is sad from getting bad news ("mama's just now got bad news") and is expressing how she feelings.

Moving on to some actual blues, we come to the iconic Gertrude “Ma” Rainey. Much like how “Maple Leaf Rag” is classic ragtime, “Countin’ the Blues” is textbook blues music. It contains a call-and-response form when Ma Rainey sings and is “responded to” by the instrumentation, something that can be found in other blues music like Robert Johnson’s “Preachin’ Blues”. It also features an instrumental introduction, something characteristic of ragtime music. “Countin’ the Blues” and blues music in general is popular music that has its roots in African spirituals and, generally, the early African American experience.

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“He Got Better Things for You” performed by Bessie Johnson’s Memphis Sanctified Singers

Original listening log: I loved this piece! Bessie Johnson's raspy, passionate delivery really communicates how she feels about the subject matter she is singing about. There is simple guitar accompaniment, but the focus really does remain on the vocals and, by extension, the lyrics. This is a great storytelling/moralizing song. I like how Johnson draws the listener in with sweet, clear vocals in the first three lines, saying how she wants to share a message with us, her "kind friends" whose souls she loves. I admit I was a little jarred when her gruff vocals began on "but half ain't never been told," but as the song went on, it made sense. She shares stories of Saint Mary and a man named Cornelius (if this is a Biblical reference, I'm Jewish and it totally went over my head), two people who listened to the word of the Christian God and now wait in heaven among the better things. Johnson wants to share her message so that all of the listeners can get to those better things.

Johnson’s “He Got Better Things for You” is the first and only explicitly religious piece of popular music I have included on this list, but the influence of Black religious music on later genres like jazz and the blues cannot be understated. The textbook points out that Johnson’s emotive, gravelly voice feels similar to the brash trumpets jazz musicians use in their songs, but I would say that is where a lot of the similarity ends. The guitar music and vocal melody are quite simple and easy to understand, which makes sense when one considers the genre. Its accessibility and sweet religious content feels similar to songs like “Simple Gifts,” spiritual hymns meant to be sung by a community of like-minded individuals.

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Henry Cowell’s “The Banshee” performed by Sonya Kumiko Lee

Original listening log: "The Banshee" is a really neat piece of music. It begins very quiet and eerie as Cowell gently drags his hand across the piano strings, making it seem like something is coming and building up tension. He also occasionally plucks a few specific strings that sound like spooky windchimes or something. This and the quiet dragging of his across the strings helps connect the piece of the Irish folklore being of the banshee - the eerie, single notes give a magical feeling to the song while the quiet scraping builds tension like something (death, in this case) is coming. Whenever Cowell harshly scrapes the strings, it makes the listener jump and ultimately release a bit of the tension. Overall, while the song is purely instrumental, it is highly effective at invoking the spirit of the banshee.

Cowell’s song is a masterpiece in nonverbal storytelling, comparable to Bernard Herrmann’s “The Murder,” another song that, even without words, clearly tells the story it intends to tell. While “The Banshee” has its roots in classical music, it is bravely experimental, choosing instead to use the inside of the piano rather than the keys. Much like “Maple Leaf Rag” or “Cotton Eyed Joe,” “The Banshee” is a genre-defining song. It takes inspiration from classic forms, but it turns them into something entirely new and very exciting.

This sense of innovation found in everything from “The Banshee” to “Maple Leaf Rag” is really creatively inspiring, and I think that draws the course together well. New genres and songs are created whenever the old way of doing things just won’t cut it. Ma Rainey and other blues singers drew from African spirituals and field hollers, but retooled it in a new way to express the pain and joys of living as a Black person in America. Henry Cowell took the piano, a mainstay of many different genres, and used it in an entirely new way to tell the story of a traditional piece of Irish folklore.

Music has the power to communicate things in a way that simply speaking it will not do. By drawing influence from musical styles of the past, people are able to retain a connection to those that came before them, those who shaped their culture into what it is today. By turning that influence into something brand new, however, it puts the power in the hands of the living to influence their lives in the present-day.

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abdicatedarchive · 4 years ago

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the bet || rose and marina

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍: marina’s dorm room // before valentines day.

𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: rose x marina.

𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒: none

𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐒: the hollingsworth girls make a bet to swear off any crushes or flirty behavior.

Rose was hanging out on her sister's bed after another hook up didn't work out, "I just think I need to give up at this rate. He got soooooo clingy. He called me one morning, like called me on the phone instead of just a text. Which I thought would make him better than the guy who never texted me, but it was very annoying turns out" she rambled. Rose opened up her snapchat and was talking to people, "Hey will you pluck my eyebrows for me?" she asked, "and also tell me of your latest conquests to distract me?" Rose needed a distraction, and to be honest she needed to take a break from hopping from person to person. It was time to actually slow down.

Marina turned over to her sister as she listened to her story, "Hey, there's no reason to completely give up. I'm sure you'll find someone great." was kind of her go-to response at this point. The Hollingsworth girls were having a bit of bad luck when it came to their love lives. They tried and tried, but nothing ever seemed to work out. Sometimes Marina just wanted to give up too, but just like Rose, she'd get the smallest amount of attention and then she'd be back in the game. "Yeah, of course." she said as she hopped out of her bed and got everything she needed to do her sister's brows. Once Marina got back to the bed, she laid her sister's head on her lap and wiped around her brows for preparation. "Mine sucked, as usual." she pouted. "When we were finished, I went to the bathroom. The moment I came back, he was gone, and I kid you not, he used on of my sticky notes and wrote 'that was fun, hmu' and left his number on it."

"Part of me just wants to see how long I can go without ruining someone's life. It's been fun, but I keep hurting people. There are so many boys who are never going to get over me" Rose joked. There were some pining people along the way, but the majority it was just time to cut their losses. "For real though, jokes aside about how I'm an evil temptress that no one can say no to. I can't think of a week where I haven't had a crush or someone to date since sophomore year of High School. My success ratio sucks" she rambled on. Rosemary laid her head back on her sister's lap and listened to her talk about her love life. "Oh my god, that is so trash" she responded, annoyed on her sister's behalf. "Anyone who doesn't stay for cuddling is the spawn of satan, for real." Rose rolled her eyes. "I say we make a bet, whoever goes longer without catching feelings, having a crush, or kissing someone wins" Rose taunted the idea of a friendly sister competition. Neither of them liked to lose, "And don't even think about having sex with no kissing and no feelings, that is totally cheating and I already thought of it."

"Being the best can be a flaw at times, we just have that effect on people. We can't help it." Marina continued to joke along. "Another flaw of ours? Sometimes we catch feelings for shitty people." she pointed out. Marina hadn't been in too many relationships, but that was mainly because it would never get that far. She always seemed like a distraction or fill-in for the other person until they got what they really wanted. She was never the one. Marina nodded in agreement with Rose as she picked up her tweezers and began to meticulously pluck away. "Right? And he used one of my good journaling pens. Disgostang!" she said in an accent, she knew her sister would understand the reference. As she listened to Rose's proposition, Marina was already looking for some kind of loophole. Well, she hasn't mentioned sex. she thought to herself, until Rose mentioned sex. Damn. "Psh, I play fair." she said, unable to hold back her smile. "Okay, you're on." she said with a single nod. Both girls had always been super competitive, so bets like this were always fun. "Just for funsies? Or will there be consequences for the loser?"

Rosemary respected the dig on her previous boyfriends. Honestly they had scarred her enough to not seriously date again since. Her sister began to pluck her eyebrows, Rose only wincing from time to time. "The good pens? Disgostang!!!" she echoed back, using the same voice. The girls did love their viral video references. "Play fair? You have never played fair in your entire life" said Rose giving her a look. "Oh it's so on. Bring it" she said, referencing some of their favorite movies. The thing about the two girls was ... winning was definitely enough of an award, but she couldn't think of the punishment for losing. "I guess our usual agreements. The winner just gets to hold it over the other's head for the rest of their life" said Rosemary. The shame of losing would be enough to keep her from doing anything. "Unless you want to pick what you, Marina Hollingsworth, have to do when you lose" Rosemary taunted, the competitive drive filling up the gaping hole that looking for love had left.

Marina would take small breaks in between the tweezing so it wasn't too overwhelming. "I just play to win." she corrected Rose with a proud smile on her face. They were both raised with the mindset of being the absolute best. Sometimes playing fair wasn't enough. Winning was the only option. She nodded her head as she listened to Rose about what the winner got. It's usually how their little competitions went. Winning was a prize in itself while loosing was a big enough consequence. She raised a brow at Rose and flicked her nose softly, "Watching you lose is good enough for me." she said with a smirk. Marina wasn't exactly thinking about how hard this would be for her, she would realize that later. "If I come up with a good consequence for you, I'll let you know." she teased Rose. "Guess we're gonna have a very uneventful Valentines this year..." she said, realizing that they were making the bet literally the day before Valentines day. The timing was quite unfortunate.

"I also play to win, seems like this will be fair enough. You are the best competition I've ever had, may the best Hollingsworth win" said the girl, with a slick smile forming on her face. She was ready to do whatever it took, Rose was willing to turn down her next great love for the sake of competition. She let out a laugh when Marina said that watching her lose would be enough of a victory. "Oh yeah this is really shitty timing, but it's not like we want to do anything depraved for the holiday. We can't be those desperate frosh who will hop on anything that moves because it's V-day" Rose said, making an excellent point for herself. She didn't want to be embarrassing and make a bad reputation for herself in front of the upperclassmen.

"Back at ya sis." Marina nodded, referring to the fact that Rose was her best competition. It's why making bets with her was so fun, it was a real challenge. She knew she'd have to really work for this win, who knew how long this was going to last? Marina surely didn't know, but she was prepared. "See I was thinking of it more as everyone else would be swarming us to be their Valentines." she laughed after speaking. Marina definitely cared less about her reputation when she had came back from Mexico. Though it had been a few years since then, she still hadn't dealt with everything in a healthy way. She continued to lash out and make poor decisions. If anything, being in college made that a lot easier since her mother wasn't around to yell at her. "We can spend the day together. Get a bunch of candy, watch some romcoms. It'll be great."

Rosemary opened her phone and was about to delete her dating apps in front of her sister. She knew better than to give Marina any tips or tricks from her book. Rose would do it when she got back to her own room, hopefully Marina would get a notification she couldn't ignore. Or Rose could use her romantic energy to keep putting people in Marina's line of sight, that would be a good idea. Her sister finished her brows and Rose sat up, "That would be so much fun, I'll buy the candy. It'll be a Hollingsworth party for sure. I wish Maximo was here, his text about his present for his new boy was so cute" said Rose, still obsessing about love. She was just such a romantic at heart.

"Nice! I have my list of romcoms on my letterboxd, I have all our favs on there." Marina grabbed her phone and went on the app, she loved making her lists for no reason. It was a nice pastime for her. As she was looking for the list, Marina was thinking of all the different ways she could spin this bet around in her favor. The thing about Rose and Marina was that they were hard workers, but when they competed against each other, they always got a little sneaky. "Wasn't it?" she looked at her sister with a big smile, already cracking a bit. "I'm so happy for him. They're the cutest!" Marina's smiled faded and shook her head once she caught herself already gushing about love, "I mean... ew romance. That's gross. Don't need it, don't want it."

"Ah the list" said Rosemary smiling, Marina was always good for a list of things. It made deciding what they were going to do so much easier, they never really had to worry about not having any ideas. "Yeah, romance is disgusting. I honestly have never wanted to make out with people less, hand holding? I would genuinely never. Sex is so out of mind, I don't think I even remember how to do it" she rambled on, matching her sister's sarcastic tone. This was going to be an interesting game for sure. She wondered which one of them would actually break first. Next party, she was definitely going to get into some boy's head about how they wanted to make a move on Marina. That would get her for sure.

"Yeaaaah. Grody." Marina spaced out for a moment as she was deep in thought. Her last time having sex didn't even end on a high note. This was truly unfortunate. But she wasn't going to break, she was strong. She made a mental note to squeeze in some you're-a-winner-that-doesn't-need-romance pep talks into her morning routine. "Ooooh, you know what? I totally did gas you up to somebody in my class. They're really cute too. They said they'd hit you up at the next party." she said with an innocent smile. "Warning, he is a bass player. But a pretty one, that really likes Star Wars. I decided, out of the kindness of my heart, to pass him over to you." she let out a dramatic sigh. "Oh well now."

Rose contemplated her last encounter, and wished she hadn't wasted it on the boy she did. But then again, she probably wouldn't have made the bet if she was having a good time doing what she was doing. It was a well needed break for both of them. "Oh that's so unfortunate. To give you some lovely feedback, I thank you for your selflessness and giving spirit for donating said musician who likes Star Wars to me. He sounds lovely, but in my new sex free mindset that I fully and totally embody ... I am not even thinking about how bassists are really good with their fingers. Not even a bit" she said giving her sister the blankest look of all time, her brow arching exemplifying the fact that she was up for the challenge. "You know it's funny, I saw Chase on the quad the other day with Jonah ... I wonder if you two will have to kiss to save society again in your larping group. It would be a shame if I told ... perhaps Steven that that would be an excellent plot" said Rose moving her hair behind her shoulder and letting a smirk form on her face. The girls did play dirty, but the whole point of the bet was that no one got to play dirty in the way that they preferred.

Marina looked over at her sister, innocently smiling at her, "I'm glad you're staying strong. But don't worry, I'm sure this, or more specifically you, won't last too long. I bet he'll be waiting for you." she said, playfully messing with her sister. If there was one thing Marina knew, it was that this bet would most likely take a while. Marina thought about telling Rose that larp kisses were not real kisses. That's what she always told herself, anyways. But she held back from brining that up. It would make her look like she was going to go off and start kissing Chase during their larping sessions because those wouldn't count. Marina had willpower though, and there was no need to do anything with Chase. That was old news. "Our society is doing great actually, so there's no need for kisses. But I will be warning the groupchat about you. Steven will not be my downfall." she shook her head as she went and texted them immediately. Warning: Rosemary Hollingsworth is dangerous territory right now. Any shady deals being made behind my back will have severe consequences!

Rose messed back, "I do love to make someone wait." It was going to take every fiber of self control she had, but mostly her competitive edge. To be fair, she didn't have much self control to begin with ... but pride? There was an abundance of it. "I think Steven most definitely will be your downfall, he's just so easy" Rose teased, the boy had always been asking questions about her. It would be almost too easy to get into his head, and where was the fun in that? "I think that the only exception to the rules should be some sort of soulmate clause. And the only way out is you have to marry them essentially, no exceptions to that. The second you break up you're a loser again, no pity" said Rosemary, laughing a little at the idea. There was no way that would actually happen, but as an added precaution she wanted to put that in there. Knowing the two of them, they could do bets for years. It was the only thing that made her nervous.

"I may have to lightly threaten him then. If anyone's gonna fuck shit up for me, it's me." Marina stated as she pointed to herself. That's usually how things went with her anyways. She was her own worst enemy. Hearing what Rose said afterwards made Marina laugh along with her. "Is there really any soulmate potential here?" she asked in between her laughter. "I haven't gotten that feeling since like, high school?" she said, but didn't sound too sure. Marina would always hope for the best when she would find someone new, but she couldn't think of anyone here that had given her that deep feeling of love. "Knowing us, we'd marry that person just to make sure we don't lose." she said jokingly, it was pretty funny to think about. Sad, but funny.

"I mean that is the way to live. If anyone is going to fuck shit up for me, it's going to be me as well" said the girl, laughing in agreement. It was scary sometimes how they were the same on so many things. "I hope not, I have a bet to win" she said, letting a giggle out again. She honestly couldn't imagine herself growing old with someone she met here. It would be nice to meet your soulmate in college, but knowing her family ... it felt like something that came later in life when you really knew who you were and what you wanted. "I haven't had that feeling since I dated the devil incarnate" Rosemary said with a sigh, not wanting to think of him so close to Valentines. It had been two years, but it still wasn't enough time. "Oh 100%, and cold feet would not be permitted" she said, changing topics. It was hard to think about him still. The damage he had done to her.

Marina stayed silent when Rose mentioned her ex. They both had very different experiences with their high school loves. Marina was the problem in her situation, and though things got better with Antonio, they decided to break things off while they were in different schools. Sometimes she'd try texting him but would back out because one, she was too scared, but two, she wanted him to have a fun time where he was at. She was pretty relieved that Rose completely ended that relationship in high school. Her sister deserved so much more, but Marina knew not to bring him up. "Definitely." she nodded in agreement to the last statement. "Well my lab partner was just telling me about a party tonight. We could always see just how strong we are. You up for it?" she asked with a small grin.

She smiled, "That is an excellent question, only if you're up for peak hotness this evening. And by peak hotness I mean that our outfits should go together and you should do my makeup. That way we can tell a lot of strangers that we're twins and then they're going to get all fumbly with their words" said the girl as she flashed her teeth at her sister. Sure they weren't blood, but with their birthdays being the same and them being sisters ... it was a lot of fun to fuck with people. "The other option is that we put on old people FX makeup so that no one is tempted, except the creeps" she said, laughing a little to herself. That would also be fun, but she'd prefer to have a cute picture for the gram with her sister.

Marina laughed and shook her head to the second option, "Fun choice, but we'll save that one for a rainy day. Old people FX makeup is harder than I thought." she told her sister. Marina had only delved into FX makeup in the past year. Ever since she started cosplaying, she wanted to give it a try, but she never knew where to start. She hopped out of the bed and ran over to look at which outfits they could choose from. "This is always a good option." she said, holding out a short dress. "Or this one?" she asked as she showed Rose the two piece set. "I know you have cute outfits that match either one."

And things were back to normal, of course the Hollingsworth girls were still going to have fun. They were the Hollingsworth girls. Just because they couldn't get boys ... or girl's attention didn't mean that they couldn't have a good time. "I have something that will go with the two piece I'm sure of it" said the girl as she looked at the outfits. "How are we so excellent? We really are the best of the best" she said to her sister and stuck her tongue out.

"The best of the best." Marina stated confidently as she put the dress back. She was excited to have a fun night with Rose, there was never a dull moment when they were together. "I actually have the perfect look I could do on us that'll match our outfits." she said excitedly before they got ready for the party. "Tonight's going to be great!" //END

#rosexmarina #threads || marina and rose #marina and rose || 009

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