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jadoue1999 · 3 years

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The X-Men and the member they lost - Chapter 3

Summary: What do you get when you mix Hayward and the Xmen? A pissed off Erik that's seriously trying to not murder the man!

Previous parts: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8,

Chapter 3: The Maximoff Anomaly

They had settled in fast. The older man that had intercepted them was called Hayward. He seemed very distraught at their arrival and made them go into an unused building. The director hadn’t listened to their protesting, he preferred having them out of the way. For what ever reason, Erik wasn’t sure. They soon realized that time worked differently in this universe. While they had already seen the episode and moved on, it had just ended as they arrived. Charles had told him with amusement that Hank would go crazy over the possibilities. Thankfully, the bunker contained televisions that monitored the town and the broadcast. Hayward had deemed necessary to make sure only people close to him knew of their arrival. They were all sitting around a table when he demanded their story. Charles spoke up. “We’re not from your Earth,” he started.

The director had looked at Kurt with a raised eyebrow, “I had that much figured.”

The professor continued, “two weeks back, one of our members went missing and the broadcast was all we could find. Our universe seems to be ahead of you with the episodes, but we are behind in years.”

“How so?” Questioned the woman sitting next to Erik.

“To us, it’s the eighties.” Charles waited a few moments, letting the people around some time to understand. “We come from a world where people are born with mutations, Kurt here can teleport.” The teenager looked at the professor, silently asking for permission to show his powers. Charles nodded and the blue mutant teleported from one side of the room to another. Hayward seemed shocked as the rest of the people gasped. Charles continued, “this is Raven, she can shapeshift.” Erik smirked as Mystique changed into a perfect copy of the director, making him jump out of his chair in surprise. She turned back into her human form and watched with amusement as Hayward slowly sat back down, eyeing her with caution. Probably seeing how unsettled the agents were, Charles decided to end this quickly. “I can personally read mind and Erik can control metal.”

Erik rolled his eyes as the military people looked at them with wide eyes. He wasn’t going to demonstrate his powers; he had done enough of that with Shaw. The team seemed to get the message that there would be no more demonstrations and moved on.

“So,” said the lady next to the director, “why are you here? Other than the broadcast.”

“Oh well, like I’ve mentioned before, we had a member of our team go missing.” The professor wheeled himself close to a screen and rewound the episode to when Peter appeared. “You see this young man? This is Peter, we had no clue where he went. We watched the broadcast in hopes for answers and we finally found him. Though in a tighter spot than we’d expected, but he does have a knack for trouble.”

Erik smirked at the joke; the speedster had always found himself in the strangest place at the wrong time. He was basically a magnet for trouble.

The director broke the silence. “So, this is not Pietro Maximoff?”

Erik shook his head, deciding to speak up at last, “no, he is not your Pietro, this is Peter Maximoff; my son.”

Hayward seemed surprised that someone other than Charles had spoken. “Is he like you all, enhanced?”

“Yes, he is a mutant,” answered Raven, clearly uncomfortable about the man’s tone. “He has superspeed.”

The director closed his eyes and sighed before turning to his colleague. “Bring the files concerning the Maximoff anomaly, they need to know.” The woman nodded and left the compound. He turned to the other members that hadn’t done much but gape at them and ordered them out. Apparently, he didn’t want people to witness what was about to happen. That left the man alone with the X-men. “Look, I get what you people can do, you barge in and act on an impulse; fix what you think is a threat and leave the rest of us to deal with the mess you leave behind. You might think you’re right, but this is my base.” Erik tensed up at the man’s words, this speech being all too familiar. “I don’t want you meddling in my stuff, Wanda Maximoff is a threat that needs to be dealt with no matter the price. You can go get your friend after.”

It was now official; he hated this man.

Though, before he could show him just how much he despised him, his colleague came back. She didn’t react to the lack of personnel, perhaps she had been expecting it. She was holding a significant number of files and what seemed to be a tv remote. Hayward thanked her and opened a file labeled ‘confidential’. It showed a picture of Wanda. Only she seemed younger, and her hair were a dark brown; there was also a man with bleached blonde hair at her side. They were in a crowd of people, their faces twisted in rage as they seemed to yell to something the picture didn’t show.

“This is Wanda Maximoff, back when she joined a Nazi base and accepted to be experimented on. This is how she got her powers.”

“Director, with all due respect, I believe your thoughts betray you,” interrupted Charles, to the man’s frustration. “I think it’s important to complete your statement and precise that she didn’t know what she was getting herself into.”

Erik secretly praised his friend and his telepathy; Hayward was obviously trying to antagonize the woman. It was obvious they now had to take his version of events with a grain of salt.

“Yes...” grunted the director, obviously upset about being caught in a lie. He pointed to the other man in the picture, “this is Pietro Maximoff, Wanda’s twin, the real one. He too had superspeed.”

He switched on a screen that was flatter than any television Erik had ever seen. It showed Wanda and Pietro in what appeared to be a lab. There was a sort of casket all plugged in with tubes. The pair seemed to be arguing with two older men. There was no audio, so their discussion didn’t make much sense. Suddenly, a blue blur raced through the lab, removing all the tubes in mere seconds. The blonde man stopped next to the casket looking thing and threw the last tube on the floor. It was strange, seeing another version of his son. Their powers were very similar yet very different. While Peter’s trail was silver, Pietro’s was blue, he also left some blue energy lingering in the air. It lasted a few seconds as he stopped before it disappeared. From the few dates in the documents and video, this Quicksilver seemed to have developed his powers only for a few months. It was probably why he seemed to be a little slower than his son. Hayward spoke again.

“The twins were working against the Avengers, those in charge of defending our planet. There was an army of robots threatening to destroy the world, they had sided with the robot in charge.” He glanced quickly at Charles. “They eventually changed sides, but Pietro didn’t survive.”

The footage changed to show a man and a child trying to take cover as a trail of bullets grew nearer. Suddenly, they were out of harm’s way and the speedster was in their place. His shirt was riddled with holes that quickly soaked with blood and he fell to the ground, dead. Fear seized Erik as he watched the man fall to the ground; momentarily seeing Peter in his place. Would a similar thing have happened had Mystique not disguised herself as one of the horsemen?

Hayward continued, showing footage of Wanda fighting in a group against other people, explaining how this event had led to the Sokovia accords, which was nothing more than a differently named mutant registration act. Except this one was actually approved. She had refused to sign and went into hiding, only to resurface when a titan had attacked the Earth. He apparently needed something called infinity stones, one of which was in Vision’s head. From the next chain of event Hayward told them, the titan had apparently succeeded in retrieving the stone. The real mystery was how the Vision was back to life; the director insisted that it was Wanda who resurrected him. She had been blipped, like half of the universe, and had came back grief stricken and ready to do anything to have a perfect family life. She had taken an entire town hostage and made them into her puppets. There was no telling what she might do to achieve her goal. Apparently kidnapping an alternate universe version of her brother wasn’t out of her reach. As Hayward continued telling them about Wanda’s life and what she had done, Erik had only one pressing thought: just how powerful was Wanda?

“How many people are in this town?” Wondered Charles.

“A little more than three thousand. They’re not all casted as roles, most are simply background characters.”

The wheelchair bound man nodded in comprehension. “Have you identified them all? Warned their families?”

He shook his head. “I believe it’s in everyone’s interest if we keep this low, we don’t want to alarm anyone. Especially when the world just came back.”

“You idiot,” raged Raven, “if they can’t reach their loved ones, they will ask questions. They will panic. Your logic is awfully flawed.”

“This is not your dimension, you don’t get to tell me what to do,” argued Hayward, clearly annoyed with them. “I will try to urge the identification process, but you people stay here. I don’t want more superpowered people and their associates getting in my way.”

With that, the man just left the place, followed by his colleague. Whether it was intentional or not, they left their documentation behind. Erik took one of the many files from the pile and opened it. This one described Vision’s origin and whereabouts until he had been destroyed in-

“Charles,” he said, not taking his eyes off the numbers. “This here says that the android died in 2018, five years ago.”

“We traveled 40 years in the future?” Said Kurt, understandably a little overwhelmed by the situation.

Raven put a comforting hand on the teleporter’s shoulder before looking at her friend. Her eyes showed how the situation affected her just as much as it did them. He didn’t blame her; Erik wasn’t sure if he truly grasped the gravity of the implications yet. For now, he preferred to focus on Wanda and her past; the more he knew about her, the better of a chance they’d have to retrieve his son safely and unharmed. The later wasn’t looking too hopeful. From his own experience with mind control and the co-worker’s reaction to being awoken, Peter would likely have a long and painful recovery once he would be back to himself. He just hoped that the differences between their timelines meant that he hadn’t been controlled since he had gone missing. Perhaps, by some luck, he would have arrived a little before he appeared on screen. He didn’t let himself think of what the speedster could have endured before being put under the woman’s spell. Especially if he had been her puppet for the entire two weeks he had disappeared.

“Erik,” interrupted Charles, “I can hear your concerns and I can assure you; your son is a fighter. His mutation is a natural telepath repellent, he’ll be just fine.”

The man smiled at his friend’s words, momentarily comforted. But then, a terrible thought creeped into his head. “Then tell me, old friend, if he is so immune; what horrible torture would he have to go under, so that his mental shield would be lowered enough for him to be vulnerable?”

The silence that followed his statement seemed to confirm that no one had even considered how Peter could be controlled in the first place. They had been too panicked at seeing the young man on the screen and then focused on getting to him to even think of the logic of his newly casted role.

“B-but he’ll be alright,” stammered Kurt, his tail anxiously twitching behind him, swinging, and curling unto itself. “He’s Peter, he always comes out alright.”

Charles smiles weakly at his student, “of course he will, Kurt,” he reassured him, “but we will have to give him time to heal and let him do the first steps when he’ll be ready.”

Erik shared a worried look with Raven, the professor seemed hopeful that the speedster would turn out fine, but he didn’t seem to realize how ahead he was thinking. They were on a military base that had studied for nine days this seemingly all powerful being that didn’t let you in without her consent and a rewrite of your life. And they hadn’t gotten far. From what they had learned, Peter would not be free of Wanda’s control unless she herself brought down the dome. But how could a grief-stricken mutant with powers never seen before just give up what she perceived as the perfect life she deserved?

...

They had stayed up late, learning about Wanda’s past and being horrified at what she had to go through. Erik wasn’t sure how he felt about the woman. She had gone through awful events, a struggle similar to his own. He did feel pity towards her, but he couldn’t look past the fact that she had his son playing her twisted game. The group had eventually settled down for the night, sleeping as good as they could without beds or blankets. They were suddenly awoken by some agitation on the base. Charles stared off into the distance before turning to his team, “Hayward has kicked off people from the base that were being disrespectful to him, now he’s coming our way.”

Indeed, barely fifteen seconds after he had spoken, the director opened the door. He seemed annoyed. “I’m just here to tell you that a new episode should air in the next twenty minutes.”

The blue teen looked at the man, “what happened outside just now?”

His question apparently wasn’t a welcome one since Hayward clenched his jaw in frustration. He answered nonetheless, “I got rid of nuisances. Nothing that concerns you or your team.”

That shut the boy up, but Raven stepped in front of him protectively. “You don’t get to talk to him like that, or to any of us.”

The director narrowed his eyes at her. “You should be thankful,” he snarked, “I could have you all arrested and locked up for the rest of your days, along with your little friend. Yet I haven’t even told anyone about your presence. I’ve been more than benevolent. So, I suggest you watch your mouth.”

Rage built up in Erik, he had heard these words so many times from government figures that disguised their hatred by saying what they could have done but didn’t. The metal bender was well aware that men like him wouldn’t hesitate to sell them out for a raise. What he didn’t appreciate was the way he threatened to imprison Peter as soon as they would get him free from Wanda’s control. Erik felt the metal in the man’s outfit and forced him closer, bringing him at his level. A sliver of fear was seen for a split second in Hayward’s eyes and a feeling of satisfaction crept into his chest. That man was a coward. “You listen to me,” he growled, “we can take out this base in seconds if we feel like it. I’ve seen your kind before, you crush others to rise in rank, but deep down you’re scared. You’re terrified because you’re aware that you are nothing. And if you drop your facade even for a second, they will see you for what you truly are. So, you take out the competition before it even has a chance to realize its potential. But guess what? You’ve met your match because I see you for what you truly are.” He paused as he stared into the man’s eyes. It was a competition of stares that lasted for a few seconds. Erik’s unwavering gaze pierced through the man’s pitiful attempt at intimidation without much effort. Finally, he let his grip go and kept his ground as Hayward took a few steps back. “Here’s a deal, little man, stay out of our way and we’ll stay out of yours.”

The director glared at him and then switched to the other people in the room, probably wondering if the threats he had said had a chance of becoming reality. Whatever he concluded, Erik didn’t know, but the man left the room fuming. The room was silent for a few seconds before Charles wheeled himself closer. He was about to speak but the metal bender beat him to it. “Don’t try to reason with me, old friend, that man had it coming. I only spoke the truth.”

The bald man shook his head. “Yes, you are right, and I don’t blame you for this, but perhaps threatening the director of the base we’re staying in wasn’t the greatest idea?”

Before he could argue, Raven intervened, “I think you did good. It’s been a while since I had seen one of your Magneto speeches; that Stryker knock off deserved it.”

He snorted at her comparison; Hayward was very similar to their own impersonation of the anti-mutant feeling back home. Kurt seemed a little unsettled by Erik’s speech. But he didn’t have time to make sure the teen was alright. Suddenly, the television in their little bunker flickered on; a new episode was starting. They all scrambled to sit down as the screen showed one of the twins running around with a camera in his hands. The upbeat intro song was echoing through the room.

‘Wanda!

WandaVision!

Don’t try to fight the chaos

Don’t question what you’ve done

The game can try to play us

Don’t let it stop the fun’

He opened the bathroom door, showing Wanda brushing her teeth; she also had rollers in her hair. She closed the door with her magic and Tommy ran downstairs to Vision who was reading the newspaper.

‘Some days, it’s all confusion

Easy come and easy go’

Erik watched the screen anxiously as the family members were shown, what would she make her son do?

‘But if it’s all illusion

Sit back, enjoy the show!’

The twin went in the kitchen, their neighbor was looking in the fridge. After a distasteful close up of the woman’s behind, Tommy was now headed for outside.

‘Let’s keep it going

Through each distorted day

Let’s keep it going

Though there may be no way of knowing

Who’s coming by to play’

A blur came out from the house and Erik’s stomach twisted as his son appeared on screen. He was wearing a grey and black shirt and jeans shorts. He briefly stopped in front of the camera and pulled his tongue out like some sort of rock star. He ran out of the shot and came back holding the long-haired twin under one arm. The screen froze to simulate a family picture being taken. The logo ‘WandaVision’ in red and yellow hues.

“Pietro Maximoff as himself?” remarked Raven unimpressed. “Really?”

Erik didn’t react to her voice; he was all too focused on his son. While he didn’t seem that different than usual, he couldn’t help but notice his hair. His usual silver mess of hair were now a bleached blonde. He stared at the screen in disbelief.

This woman had taken away one of Peter’s most unique traits, a part of his personality, to fit her narrative.

He continued looking at the screen with a mix of rage and anxiety. If she had changed him so easily to fulfill her illusion; there was no telling what else she could do if she found out he wasn’t truly her brother.

***

Notes: Next chapter: the halloween special! (and something else)

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lemonjoonah · 4 years

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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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thelittlesttimelord · 3 years

Text

The Littlest Timelord: The New Doctor Chapter 10

TITLE: The Littlest Timelord: The New Doctor Chapter 10 PAIRING: No Pairing RATING: T CHAPTER: 10/? SUMMARY: With the Doctor newly regenerated, he and Elise must now navigate their new relationship. The Doctor is an old man and Elise is a headstrong young woman. She is no longer the scared little girl the Doctor saved all those years ago. Will Clara be able to keep them from killing each other?

The three of them left the cell with Robin holding the block they were chained to.

“Now what?” Robin asked.

“First, a blacksmith's forge,” the Doctor said.

“So as to remove our chains?”

“No. So I can knock up an ornamental plant stand. Of course it's so we can get rid of our chains. I don't want to be manacled to you all night and I know Elise sure as hell doesn’t.”

You read my mind.

The Doctor looked at her. Course I did.

Elise’s eyes went wide. This was the first time this Doctor had communicated with her telepathically.

Robin laughed.

“Oh, no. Please, don't do that,” the Doctor told him.

“Ornamental plant stand.”

“It's not even that funny.”

“You're an amusing fellow, Doctor.”

“Oh, don't. Can you just stop! You'll give yourself a hernia.”

Robin continued laughing.

I’m about two seconds away from murdering him.

The Doctor raised his eyebrows. I wouldn’t blame you honestly.

They managed to get free of their chains and they came across a metal doorway.

He looked over at Elise, who nodded.

They walked through it and stepped into a room with a glowing sphere attached to a console.

“At last. Something real. No more fairy tales,” the Doctor said.

“What is this place?” Robin asked.

“A spaceship. More twenty ninth century than twelfth.”

The Doctor danced around the databanks, making Elise smile. It reminded her of the regeneration that raised her.

“Data banks, data banks, data banks. Where was this ship headed?”

The computer screen responded to the Doctor’s voice.

“The Promised Land again. Like the Half-Faced Man, but more sophisticated. It disguised itself as a twelfth century castle. It merges into the culture, tries to keep a low profile, so no one notices. That explains the robot knights.”

The sphere in the middle of the room was smoking.

“But the engines. The engines are damaged. They're leaking radiation into the local atmosphere, creating a temporary climate of staggering benevolence.”

“I beg pardon?” Robin asked.

“I told you. It's too sunny. It's too green. And there is even an evil sheriff to oppress the locals. This explains everything, even you.”

“It does?”

“Well, what does every oppressed peasant workforce need? The illusion of hope. Some silly story to get them through the day, lull them into docility, and keep them working. Ship's data banks. Full of every myth and legend you could hope for, including Robin Hood.”

Various pictures of Robin Hood popped up on the screen.

Elise recognized some of them from books she’d read.

“Isn't it time you came clean with me? You're not real and you know it,” the Doctor told him, “Look at you. Perfect eyes, perfect teeth. Nobody has a jawline like that. You're as much a part of what is happening here as the Sheriff and his metal knights. You're a robot.”

“You dare to accuse me of collusion with that villain, the Sheriff?”

“I dare.”

“You false-tongued knave. I should have skewered you when I had the chance.”

“I would like to see you try.”

The door was blown open.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah,” the Doctor muttered.

The Sheriff entered with Clara and the knights. “Surrender, outlaw,” the Sheriff demanded.

“Very good,” the Doctor commented.

“Kill him. Kill Robin Hood.”

“You can drop all that stuff now, Sheriff.”

“Doctor?” Clara asked.

“He is not what you think he is. This is all play-acting.”

“We can't just let them kill him!”

“You're not fooling anyone, Sheriff.”

A blast from a knight knocked him to the ground.

Clara put herself between the knight and Robin. Robin stumbled to his feet and grabbed Clara around the waist. They backed up towards the window.

“What the hell are you doing?” Clara asked him.

“Surviving.”

“No!”

Robin fell backward out the window with Clara.

“CLARA!” Elise screamed, running over to the window, “No, no, no.” Elise waited for them to surface from the moat, but they didn’t. Elise’s knees buckled. “No,” she breathed.

They’d lost Clara again. For good this time.

“Yeah, sorry about the girl. Such a pretty thing. What a queen she would have made,” the Sheriff said. He turned away and the Doctor and Elise saw Robin climb out of the moat with Clara in his arms.

“Stop pretending. You and your fancy robots. I get it. I understand,” the Doctor told him.

“Oh, so you too know my plans?” the Sheriff asked.

“You and your robots plundering the surrounding countryside for all it's worth. Gold. Gold.” The Doctor snapped his fingers. “Of course. Gold. You are creating a matrix of gold to repair the engine circuitry.”

“This is the scheme the Mechanicals have devised. Soon this skyship will depart. Destination, London. There I will obliterate the King and take my rightful place as ruler of this sceptered isle.”

“It won't work. There's not a chance. I've seen the instruments. There's been too much damage. You are stoking up a gigantic bomb!”

The Sheriff hushed him. A knight knocked the Doctor out.

Elise gasped. The knights approached her and she looked at the window. If Clara and Robin survived, she could too. Before she could make a break for it, the Sheriff grabbed her.

“Ah, ah, love. I couldn’t make the other one my Queen, so you have to do instead.”

“Over my dead body!” Elise snapped.

“Pity.”

The robot knight wrapped his hand around Elise’s neck and everything went black.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Elise woke up next to her father, chained to a wall. Again.

“Engine capacity at forty eight percent,” the robot knight said.

“It's not enough. That's not enough. It'll never make orbit,” the Doctor told him.

There was rumbling in the distance.

“Something tells me that’s not a thunderstorm,” Elise said.

“That's the engines, building in power. Stupid, stupid Sheriff,” the Doctor muttered. The Doctor struggled against the chains. “Go on, give! Give, you stupid things.”

Elise elbowed him and gestured to the girl sitting next to them. It briefly crossed Elise’s mind that the girl looked vaguely like her first body.

“What are you looking at?” the Doctor asked.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

The Doctor quickly explained everything.

“I think I understand you. The Sheriff's using the gold to replace something,” she said.

“That's the principle. But he's a moron. If he tries to fly this ship, it'll explode and wipe out half the country. What we need is a little riot. Time to reflect on lasers and gold. Spread the word.”

The girl freed the Doctor and Elise.

A knight walked up to them. “You are fit for labor. Stand aside while this peasant unit is freed.”

“I'm afraid you're a little late,” the Doctor told it.

“Explain.”

“I'm already free!”

The knight fired a blast at the Doctor who reflected it with a golden plate. The knight fired another one. The girl grabbed another golden plate and the beam reflected back to the knight, blowing it’s head off. More knights appeared and the peasants armed themselves with golden plates. The battle between the knights and the peasants waged on, reminding Elise a lot of their time on Trenzalore. Finally, there was one knight left.

“Everyone, the last one!” the Doctor yelled.

The beam reflected off several of the golden plates, building up power and momentum. It hit the knight, who exploded with a loud BOOM!

Everyone cheered.

“Out, out! Everyone, quickly, get out. Quickly!” the Doctor told them.

“You've saved us all, clever one,” the girl said. She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you.”

The Doctor touched his cheek.

“Engine capacity at eighty two percent,” they heard.

“You are indeed an ingenious fellow, Doctor. You and your ward. But do you really think your peasants' revolt can stop me?” the Sheriff asked.

“I rather think you're the revolting one around here. I'm bantering. I'm bantering. Listen to me. You don't have enough gold content to seal the engine breach. If you try and take off, you'll wipe out half of England.”

“Liar! From my sky vessel, I shall rule omnipotent.”

“You pudding-headed primitive, shut down the engines. What you're doing will alter the course of history.”

“I sincerely hope so, or I wouldn't be bothering.” The Sheriff motioned for the knights to grab the Doctor and Elise.

“Listen to me. It doesn't have to end like this. Shut it all down, return Clara to me and I'll do what I can.”

“I don't have Clara.”

“Robin's one of yours.”

The Sheriff held up his hand to stop the knights. “What did you say?”

“He's one of your tin-headed puppets, just like these brutes here.”

“Robin Hood is not one of mine.”

“Of course he is. He's a robot, created by your mechanical mates.”

“Why would they do that?”

“To pacify the locals, give them false hope. He's the opiate of the masses.”

“Why would we create an enemy to fight us? What sense would that make? That would be a terrible idea.”

“Yes! Yes, it would. Wouldn't it? Yes, that would be a rubbish idea. Why would you do that? But he can't be. He's not real. He's a legend!”

Robin appeared up in the gallery. “Too kind! And this legend does not come alone.”

Clara appeared behind him. “Hiya!”

Robin stuck his dagger into a tapestry and slid down with Clara holding onto him. “You all right?” Robin asked Clara.

“Hell, yeah.”

“Good. My men have taken the castle.”

“No!” the Sheriff snapped.

“Now I'm going to take you.”

“This one's all mine.” The Sheriff deactivated the knights with the amulet hanging around his neck. “What do you say, outlaw? A final reckoning?”

“Oh, yes.”

The Sheriff and Robin started to fight, while Clara ran over to the Doctor and Elise.

“Are you okay?” the Doctor asked her.

“Fine, yeah.”

“Good. We don't have long.”

The castle started to rumble and shake.

“I shall avenge every slight, outlaw,” the Sheriff said.

“Doctor…” Clara said, staring at the ceiling.

“I know. The whole castle's about to blow.”

“You have long been a thorn in my side,” the Sheriff told Robin.

“Well, everyone should have a hobby. Mine's annoying you.”

“I'll have you boiled in oil at the castle by sunset.”

“Can we make it a little earlier? Cos that's a little past my bedtime.” Robin cut a rope and flew up onto a cross-beam.

“I'm too much for you, outlaw. The first of a new breed. Half man, half engine.” The Sheriff copied Robin’s move and they continued to fight up on the beam. “Never ageing. Never tiring.”

“Are you still talking?”

Elise gasped as the Sheriff sliced at Robin’s arm. He dropped his sword and held his arms out, ready for the killing blow.

“Bow down before your new king, you prince of knaves!” the Sheriff demanded. He charged at Robin who turned so they were back to back, just like he had with the Doctor.

Robin kicked the back of the Sheriff’s knee and he fell into the vat of boiling gold. Robin slid down by the rope. “Sorry. Was that, er, was that showing off?”

“That was amazing,” Clara told him.

The castle shook and stones started to fall.

“Run! Come on, run!” the Doctor yelled.

They made it outside and watched stones crumbled to allow the spaceship to take off.

“It's never going to make it. Not enough gold. It'll never make it into orbit. Where is it? Where did it go?” the Doctor asked Robin.

“Where did what go?” Clara asked.

“The golden arrow.”

“Tuck!” Robin yelled.

“You took it?” the Doctor asked.

“Of course we did. We're robbers,” Tuck said.

“I love you boys.”

“Doctor, what are you suggesting?” Clara asked.

“Golden arrow. It might just be enough gold content to get the ship into orbit and out of harm's way.” The Doctor offered the bow and arrow to Robin.

“No, it has to be you. My arm is injured,” Robin told him.

The Doctor tried and failed to get the arrow onto the bowstring.

“You're good at this. I saw you. You won the tournament,” Clara said.

“I cheated. I made a special arrow with a homing device,” he confessed.

“Oh, brilliant. Right, let me have a go.”

“You? You do Tae Kwon Do. That's not the same thing as this.”

Elise rolled her eyes and grabbed the bow and arrow. She notched the arrow expertly and aimed it at one of the engines.

It hit perfectly and the ship blasted into orbit and away from England. It hit the upper atmosphere and exploded.

Everyone around them cheered. The Merry Men started laughing.

“Still not keen on the laughing thing?” Clara asked the Doctor.

“No, not at all.”

Clara laughed and Robin chuckled.

The Doctor looked around annoyed, so Elise put a hand on his back, silently telling him she agreed with him.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Elise and the Doctor hung back while Clara and Robin said their goodbyes. Once Clara had gone inside, they approached him.

“So, is it true, Doctor?” Robin asked.

“Is what true?”

“That in the future I am forgotten as a real man? I am but a legend?”

“I'm afraid it is.”

“Hmm. Good. History is a burden. Stories can make us fly.”

“Well said,” Elise commented.

“I'm still having a little trouble believing yours, I'm afraid,” the Doctor told Robin.

“Is it so hard to credit? That a man born into wealth and privilege should find the plight of the oppressed and weak too much to bear...”

“I know...”

“Until one night he is moved to steal a TARDIS? Fly among the stars, fighting the good fight. Clara told me your stories.”

“She should not have told you any of that.”

“Well. Well, once the story started, she could hardly stop herself. You are their hero, I think.” Robin looked at Elise.

“I'm not a hero.”

“Well, neither am I. But if we both keep pretending to be. Ha-ha! Perhaps others will be heroes in our name. Perhaps we will both be stories. And may those stories never end.”

The two of them shook hands.

“Goodbye, Doctor, Time Lord of Gallifrey.” Robin took Elise’s hand in his and gently kissed the back of her hand. “Goodbye, fair Elise Smith. May you and your suitor meet again.”

“Excuse me?”

“The one who calls you Red. A dashing young fellow named…”

“That’s enough. Goodbye, Robin Hood, Earl of Loxley.” The Doctor wrapped a hand around Elise’s arm and gently pulled her towards the TARDIS.

“And remember, Doctor. I'm just as real as you are.”

They entered the TARDIS and the Doctor put her in flight.

What had Robin been about to say before the Doctor cut him off?

#Twelfth Doctor #twelfth doctor imagine #twelfth doctor fanfiction #doctor who #Doctor Who fanfiction #doctor who imagine #clara oswald #clara oswald imagine #the littlest timelord #the littlest timelord: the new doctor #robot of sherwood

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snowflake-apocalypse · 3 years

Text

Karma’s Rogue Gallery: Charlotte Forte

“Am I going too far?”

“No no no, you went too far seven hours ago. Now you’re going to prison.”

“Wonderful! It’s a date then!”

——-

Joss: Year 2

Down Town; 0941

Crisp autumn air blusters through the ocean town of Idle City. The scent of salt and spiced apple cider carried on the breeze. A long forgotten liveliness permeates throughout the streets. The quaint corner shops freely welcoming residents, now with no threat of unrest from the local mobs.

“Ah, you know what, Drew. After that bizarro string of bank thefts last couple weeks, this... this is nice.” Joss, sighing with relief. The young woman perched atop the edge an old town building; quietly observing the community usher in the Halloween season.

“Right? I’ve experienced less hassle dealing with Jack Hench, and you can quote me on that.” Drew Lipsky quips from the device in her ear. From his island-side balcony, he takes a generous sip of his cocoa-moo infused coffee.

“Didn’t Hench deal with you eighty percent of the time? I should go quote that to him.” Raising an eyebrow, the brunette chuckles.

“Ngh.. pass. The only quote that man cares about is his bank statement.”, Huffs the former supervillain.

“Y’know, you should bring Jay trick or treating this year, -we can carve pumpkins! He would love-”

Abruptly before she could finish her sentence, a blast rattles and quakes the area. The streets run eerily quiet, in a fog of confusion from the people below.

“What the-? Gah- damnit.” Cursing to herself.

“Joss? What was that noise? What’s happening?”

“I don’t know yet. Sounded like there was an explosion near the Carlson district. I’m jettin’ there now.” Sprinting her way to the fire escape, Joss seamlessly dons her modest domino mask. After a few years, aided by the actions of the petty and the thanks of the grateful, the cloak was beginning to feel cozy resting upon her face. Like it belonged there.

Jumping on her 400 Svartpilen tucked away carefully in the ally. The young vigilante revs the engine to life, and speeds to the source of the disturbance.

‘You just had to go and jinx it, didn'tcha Joss?’

—

“The hell..?” Joss utters upon arriving at the bewildering scene. Switching on the camera of her shades, “Hey, Drew.. you seeing this?”

“Yes.. I am. That doesn’t look like an accident explosion either. The angle of impact looks precise. A carefully crafted chaos.” Drakken informs, scrutinizing the picture on his screen.

The research and innovation section of a Cougar Motors factory had been blasted away, leaving rubble and smoke scattered in every direction. Frantic employees and pedestrians alike bound from site. The scream of sirens growing ever closer.

Scanning the area for what could have caused such mayhem, ‘Holy crap... what blew the building-...gotcha.’

“Please, everyone don’t panic. Or do, doesn’t matter. I’ll still leave with what I came for either way.” An off-hand, feminine voice echos from the roof of the now- dilapidated structure. Slyly pocketing a minuscule hardrive.

“Which is what, exactly?” Joss’ firm voice interrupting the intruder from behind.

“Oh, look who I dug out of the wood work. Karma, Karma. I’ve heard rumours of some nutter playing dress up in Idle City. Thought you would be more dramatic.” Jeers the woman, clad in Victorian-punk attire.

A ruffled white blouse, umber dress trousers tucked into black combat boots, all pulled together by trim maroon suspenders. Fiery red bob swaying in the wind.

‘Is that a wig...?’

“My welcome ran out on the west coast. So I thought I’d finish shopping here.”, The eccentric woman continues.

“Well, there are better ways to get a car. Online.. used... empty intel agency lots...”, muttering the last of her words, Joss steels herself ever so slightly.

“Hmhm. Thanks for suggestions, mate. Maybe I’ll think about them on my way to get strawberry crepes.” With a final snicker, she turns on her heels to make her exit.

“No.” Joss declares, quickly and deliberately snatching the culprits wrist. Curiously, hazel eyes glance down to the gloved fist holding her back.

‘Okay, then.’, she shrugs. It had been a while since her last good tussle.

Without warning, she’s sweeps Joss’ legs from under her, quick as lighting a knee connects to the vigilante’s stomach.

“Argh!” Swiftly recovering, Joss lunges toward her assailant, blocking a well aimed punch in her efforts.

“Joss are you okay?”, from her ear, the concerned voice perks up. Skilfully capricious and violent blows are exchanged. Leaving Drakken to blindly follow the brawl.

Upper cuts,

kidney punches,

side kicks,

swings and misses.

Battling across the shrewd covering, the two women become more hap-hazardous with every stroke.

‘I gotta end this before someone gets hurt.’ Thinking decisively, Joss reaches for the restraining cable in the inside of her jacket.

“Hoho! You can fight.”, exclaims the brash woman. Eyeing the cable in Joss’ hand, “You know, I haven’t had this much excitement in a long time. Wouldn’t mind taking you for those crepes, either. What do you say?”

‘...Is she flirting with me?’ Dumbstruck, Joss fails to see past the woman’s devilish smirk, completely missing the brass bracelet-like gadget she produced from inside her sleeve. A momentum amplifier. Able to concentrate energy and redirect it at will. A tool villains in the old days would describe as “Doomsday’s free lunch and your nemesis is buying.”

As rapidly as they entered each other’s life, with a parry and mutual defiance, the woman locks the apparatus to her enemy’s wrist.

“Think about it, you know? See ya later, mate.”Charging the device around her adversary’s wrist, gracing her a coy wink.

“Uh oh.”, Joss deadpans. She knows what’s coming next, and is not going to be fun.

With one forceful toss, Joss is sent hurling off of the building, colliding with the brick security post below. Impacting with a solid thunk.

“......gah...ugh....”, Joss groans in pain.

“Kid, talk to me.”

“She threw me around... like a rag doll... what the hell...?,” achingly rolling onto her back. “I- I’m just gonna lay here for a minute, Drew.”

—-

Gingerly getting lost in the crowds, the mystery woman lets her thoughts wander to the day’s escapades. Browsing the various autumn decor in shop windows, hardrive safe in hand.

‘Hm. Karma. Didn’t think that would have been that much fun.. She was kinda cute too...”

#Kim Possible #Joss Possible #Karma #Karma’s Rogue Gallery #dr drakken #drew lipsky #au #Happy Halloween!#and Shego would laugh at that little whatitz #fight scene is kind of rushed..#here’s the steampunk lady

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gagmebucky · 4 years

Text

thank you to taylor @blessedbucky, mia @theamericanfalcon, liz @marvelous-mr-stark, raechel, shayla, lauren, courtney, em and tina for allowing me to write this content as well as my beta reader kat @angel-fire! love you all!

read the full synopsis and excerpt // read chapters snippets here.

o. in which you accidentally send your nudes to your brothers’ best friend. (includes reader’s pov, bucky’s pov, mentions of sexting.)

—

Initially, taking the photos—exposing yourself in such an intimate state to another—you were hesitant. It wasn’t the possible repercussions, i.e. revenge porn, that gave you pause but more-so an insecurity in your own body. Having never done something like this before, you briefly dithered between whether you should or not.

Ultimately, however, you do. The guy had spent money on you, went through the trouble of finding something you’d like and shipped it discreetly. And when you slip the racy number on, your insecurities wash away and leave excitement in its wake. Everything about it you love, and it has you preening in a solo photo shoot you’re eager to show off.

After a good time of selfie shutters bulking your phone’s storage—positions of you scantily-clad standing, sitting, a cross of both—you finally relent. There’s too many pictures to pick from, but you do. Three poses that optimize the best aspects of the outfit and that you think he’ll like the best have you buzzing in anticipation of his reaction.

Giddy, you tap them directly on the album app and click the share button; you input the letter B in the ‘To:’ slot. Since there’s only two contact names under that letter, his name shows up immediately, the first with the nickname Bucky beneath it. You gloss over that and in quick succession, you quickly hit the contact and press send.

For a split second, you’re proud: you’ve taken this e-relationship to the next level like he wanted, and he’ll be happy with you. Then it hits you like a brick through glass. A replay of your actions travel to your brain, and you belatedly realize what your eyes saw—your thumb smearing too low on the screen, so instead of Brock as the recipient, it’s Bucky.

“No, no, no!” you whisper as your heart hurtles like a jackhammer stuck in your rib cage.

A part of you insists it’s your paranoia playing tricks on you, and that’s a valid rationale because this whole thing does worry you about getting caught. Except, upon checking its legitimacy, you confirm what you accidentally did. There’s no mistaking it, now, because with your brightness turned up full, your partially nude figure stares you in the face underneath of a thread between you and your brothers’ best friend.

James Bucky Barnes—the man who’s nicknamed you bambi because the numerous times he’s seen you face-plant over your own footing, the twenty-four year old who still ruffles your hair when he greets you, the soon-to-be business owner who dates certified models—has a trio of your attempts to be seductive; bottom lined with text you hope comes off likewise seductive.

Mortification swallows you. Your skin burns hotter and hotter by the second. Sure, you’ve embarrassed yourself before: you fall a lot, and you’re awkward conversationalist. But never something of this magnitude, not something that makes you seem so desperate and pathetic.

You can imagine him opening the messages. He’d immediately assume, understandably, it’s a come-on; a girl trying to be a woman’s failed goal to enthrall a man like him, his best friend’s kid sister’s pitiful effort to be anything other than just that. As if you could ever measure up to the types of women he dates.

And, yes, there’s been a time where you had a crush on him. But it’s not your fault when he looks like how he does, a rugged example of masculine sex appeal, and treating you the way he does, teasing but with a twist of kindness, and the fact that he’s the only non-blood related man allowed near you.

But that time has passed. Even then, you knew the one-sided attraction was delusional to have. You were—still are—so sure about it that you never even dared to fantasize about him and the rumors that used to trek behind him about his sexual escapades. There’s no hidden desire to be with him, and that worsens it because it’s not like you’d feel any relief in knowing his reaction. You don’t care about his reaction in the first place!

Now, no matter how much you will insist it’s an accident, there will always be a dubiousness about it. With how close your families are, things are going to be tense. Because there’s no forgetting he’s viewed you like that, and there’s photo evidence of it.

It hits you then. The extremity of your fuckup douses you in ice, and your muscles freeze because you register that since he knows about your family borderline patriarchal values concerning you, he has to tell them you’re taking nudes, and it will be over for you.

It has taken you twenty years of your life to finally venture outside what your family has allowed, to sate your curiosity of what exactly your fathers and older siblings have kept so strictly from you: sex and all the goodness it entails.

It has taken you an additional six months to explore in-depth and build the courage to start something tangible, to wander the depraved side of the internet where strangers did things to each other that made you want to do things with someone of your own: stirring foreign but oh-so amazing feelings in your nether regions.

For twenty-six weeks you carefully treaded across in order to ensure your family had no clue what you’re doing, clearing your web history and using incognito mode, all your accounts anonymous, keeping your notifications on silent in case anyone becomes suspicious of who’s continuously contacting you.

One hundred and eighty-two days later—in the middle of which you started your sex-based communication—of preparing to lose your virginity, your family will find out what you’ve been up to, and your life will be hell.

Everything has been going so perfectly. You found a guy enough distance away he isn't affected by your family’s influence, middle-aged so he’s experience and doesn’t mind handling a virgin, and is willing to drive an hour to meet you at a specified hotel when the time comes.

All that hard work down the drain.

You toss your phone and jump to your feet. Panicked, your bare feet pad back and forth on your rug-covered wood floors. Your teeth gnaw at your thumbnail as different scenarios of how everything will transpire flit through your head. Each one is more terrible than the last, and your anxiety heightens.

Somewhere in your disquietude, it occurs to you. Your brothers are downstairs and so is Bucky, but it’s ten o’clock at night, and that means they’re gaming. That particular activity coined a rule that all players have to stow their phones in the guest room. The specifics are blurry but it was something about Bucky interrupting the session due to excessive texts.

It’s an opportunity. A chance that you can creep downstairs, swipe his phone and delete your mistake—hell, you’ll break his phone if you need to—before he’s any the wiser.

“And—” Bucky Barnes drawls out the vowel as the rough-textured ball hurls through the air and swishes sharply into the hoop. “—nothin’ but net.” He relaxes from the perfected basketball follow-through stance, hands dropping to his sides, while he regards his old friend with a cocky smile. “Beat that, Rogers.”

Steve snorts and catches the ball when it bounces onto the concrete. Palming it in one hand, he dribbles it twice and trades positions so instead of being stationed next to the hoop, he’s descended to the driveway curb where the established three-pointer line is.

“You still got it, Barnes,” the blond admits, loosening his shoulders and spreading his footing to be a width apart. His right hand balances the ball from below, elbow tucked underneath, while the left splays against the side as his knees bend, and he springs up. With a practiced flick of his wrist, he releases the orange sphere at the top of his jump. It catapults in a flawless arc and drops through criss-crossed netting with a similar swish. His lips curve with satisfaction as he adds, “But, so do I.”

Bucky laughs and seizes the ball as it falls free. “Callum and Henry have no idea they’re going to get obliterated,” he says, coming to slap his palm in an affable embrace. “Fair warning, they’re still as sore losers as they were five years ago so be prepared for that.”

Steve Rogers chuckles. The former fourth to their high school cliquè, he’s aware of just how bad sports they are.

After graduation, he left out-of-state to pursue a degree in technological engineering, which he acquired last month in May, prompting his return back to New York. Between the four of them, Bucky and Steve are the level headed ones so he’s glad to have the support to handle the wild children his childhood best friends are.

“Speaking of,” Steve starts, dirty blond eyebrows knitting as he glances around the neighborhood’s cul-de-sac. “Where are they? I thought Henry was supposed to be waking up Callum? If we aren’t starting yet, then can I get my phone back?”

Bucky clicks his teeth. “Yeah. They’re probably stuffing their faces right now. Their sister went grocery shopping and got a cake so. . .” He waves his hand in gesture before continuing in vehement passion on the second point, “The whole phone thing is bullshit, though. I miss a few winning shots ‘cause I was busy with some pretty little thing texting me, and now there’s a ‘no technology rule’.” He scoffs and folds his arms.

Now that he thinks about it, he could totally have his phone right now. And he’s more interested in having it than usual. There’s this girl he’s been seeing frequently at local parties—six feet tall with gorgeous brown skin, always done up in intricate eye makeup, silver tongued (he’s very interested in her tongue) when she speaks—and he’s finally gotten her number. She could be texting him, and he doesn’t even know it!

“You know, yeah, we should get our phones back if those assholes want to take all day,” Bucky decides, agreeing with steps toward the closed storm door, but opened front door until he hears the inquiry:

“How is Y/N, anyway?” Steve’s voice is genuinely and harmlessly curious behind him, and he stops in his tracks because Bucky remembers the poorly hid crush he harbored for you. “I saw her instagram the other day, and she must be quite the heartbreaker.”

Spinning around to face him, Bucky lifts a brow. “Huh?” Then he processes the implication that you’re out dating and such. The mere prospect has him surprising laughter.

With their dad and his girlfriend on a tour of the world, the three of them are the only ones in the household. Given you’re the baby of your siblings, despite being an independent twenty-year-old, your older brothers have taken it upon themselves to ensure you focus solely on school work. Callum and Henry know exactly how to threaten their message across that you are not to be bothered, and anyone who tries will end up battered and bruised.

He shakes his head. “Nah. She’s not with anyone, hasn’t been ever,” he tells him. “If you thought Callum and Henry were overprotective back then, you should see them now.”

Gunmetal blue eyes blink surprised at him, and there’s a faint battle between delight and disappointment. “Really?” He shoves his hands in his sweats and falters somewhat. “It’s gotta be hard considering the way she has grown up,” he says but Bucky’s face scrunches in confusion. “You can’t tell me you don’t see how cute she is.” Before he can respond, Steve adds, “Obviously I wouldn’t ever see or be with her in that way—I wouldn’t betray Callum or Henry like that—but objectively, you can admit she’s gorgeous, right?”

Bucky has to take a moment and genuinely consider it—consider you—because he hasn’t before. (Other than noticing the genetic similarities to Callum, who shares your eye and hair color but is a shade lighter than you, and Henry, who shares your complexion and eye color, but his hair is darker than yours.)

There’s no denying your looks are better than most: the structure of your face works beautifully, dazzling eyes framed by your lashes and occasionally accentuated by mascara, lips usually adorned in gloss or anything that keeps them hydrated which could be described as alluring, and your hair is almost always done, sometimes switched up in style. But there’s an inherent innocence there, a sweet and clumsy awkwardness, and maybe because he’s watched you grow up, four years your senior, but it just doesn’t do it for him.

You’re his best friends’ baby sister, for God’s sake. He’d never at you like that in the first place. Especially not when he’s been aware, in the past, you harbored a schoolgirl crush on him. It was painfully obvious, to your chagrin, but he found it adorable—flattering but unsurprising considering girls flock to him like seagulls to boardwalk french fries.

Currently, he’s sure you know he won’t ever pick you—under principle, under the lack of attraction. Other than pleasant smiles and occasional small talk mixed with teasing, you don’t gaze at him with starry eyes anymore, at least it’s waned significantly as you matured.

Back to the question: “Uh, no, not really. Even if Callum and Henry didn’t care, I don’t think I’d be attracted to her,” he answers truthfully. Your purity doesn’t provoke his sexual attraction although it does invoke a duty of protectiveness. “She just isn’t my type.”

Steve arches a brow, a surprised playfulness in his expression. “Oh? Then what is your type, then?” he asks, nudging him with his elbow. ‘Cause from what I remember you’re up for anyone and everyone.”

“That makes me sound like a whore,” he feigns offense but digresses into a fit of chuckles as he thinks back to all his various sex-capades and Steve flashes him a look that says aren’t you? “Yeah.” He nods with a prideful chortle. “But I’m into more frisky girls, y’know? Ones who’ve been everywhere and done everything. They’re brass and loud and just do whatever the fuck they want. I like to be one of those things.”

Behind him, his best friend, Callum’s orotund voice rings out between the pressurized shh of the storm door, “Buck’s into slutty girls, Steve.”

He cringes at the diction. “Don’t call ‘em slutty. Sounds degrading when you guys say it like that.” Most of the time, he agrees with him—and his brother—but when it comes to women, there’s usually a dissent and a need for correction. “But yeah. I prefer girls with experience,” he declares strongly. “They don’t get attached like girls with... less experience do.”

Callum rolls his eyes, bounding down the porch stairs to the recently pressure-washed driveway, and he plucks the basketball out of his hands. “Here we go again. Bucky and his ‘I hate virgin’s’ campaign,” he mocks, shaking his head. “Doesn’t make any sense to me ‘cause everyone knows virgins are the tightest.”

This time, Bucky is the one to roll his eyes. “Well, that doesn’t make any sense considering tightness isn’t dependent upon whether it’s their first time ‘cause, y’know, vaginas stretch, you morons.” Sometimes he has no clue how Callum passed sex education (then he remembers that he bribed the health teacher). “Meaning a girl can have sex, then after a period of time, her virgin ‘tightness’ eventually returns. The only reason virgins may seem tighter is because they’re usually nervous.”

The look on Callum’s face says that what he just said went right over his head. “Whatever.” He shrugs and starts dribbling the ball half-heartedly. “I just know the woman I end up with better be a virgin.”

“Right!” Henry’s likewise orotund voice, a pitch higher, speaks after he pushes through the glass door. He presses to the court-slash-driveway, wiping icing off his mouth. “That’s marriage material. I’m not fucking around in a relationship with no woman that’s been fucked already, y’know?”

Bucky’s eye twitches, jaw locking for a millisecond. “But you guys aren’t even virgins yourself,” he points out their hypocrisy. When they look at him to rebuttal, he automatically knows it’s going to run his blood pressure up and it’s not worth it. “You know, I’m gonna go to the bathroom. You guys have fun with your conversation.”

Swiftly, he whirls around and heads for inside. The last thing he hears is Steve’s ambivalent, “I get the appeal of virgins. But you know, I don’t think it really matters. I think it just matters if you’re into them, and if they’re into you. I wouldn’t care either way but. . .”

The air conditioned air greets him coldly, and he revels in it. The June sun is killer, though perfect weather for playing a game outside, and the chill dries the sweat beaded on his forehead. He pads down the foyer, turns the corner to the bathroom and enters to take a much needed leak.

Bucky has so much brotherly love for your brothers: neighbors since being in diapers, his mother the female figure in their life, and becoming and remaining best friends for over twenty years. There’s only one thing that grates his nerves when it comes to them and that’s their view of women is somewhat skewed. Sometimes—most of the time—went the topic comes up, he’s always one second away from throttling them.

Hopefully after he pisses, they’ll be talking about something else, and finally they all can play basketball. It.

Flushing the toilet, he goes onto wash his hands. He lathers up in orange antibacterial soap and rinses the suds off with hot water. There isn’t a towel, at least not a clean one, so instead he just lets the remaining droplets drip onto the floor.

Emerging from the bathroom, James pauses and absentmindedly wipes his hands dry on his mesh-polyester shorts. His attention automatically draws to the guest room’s closed door adjacent to his position. A decision strikes him, and he steps forward and casts a curious glance down the corner.

When boisterous and distracted laughter filters through the front door and down the empty corridor, it springs him into action. He figures there’s no harm in checking his phone while he’s here. He’d been especially resistant to giving it away because he’s engaged in a particularly stimulating conversation with a particularly titillating woman—popular in her own right, he can’t afford to miss his shot with her.

His fingers turn the knob, and he shoulders through. The furniture is decorated and accented in yellow and white, condition otherwise pristine, save for the phones littered across the king-sized poster bed’s fluffy duvet. He strides across gleaming light oak floors and hones in on the only golden-colored, rubbed encased titanium.

As he grips it, long digits curling around the back, pinkie supporting the bottom, thumb tapping the screen to life, he can hear the dwindling of high-spirited jesting through the en-suite’s rectangular horizontal slider window; a wondering of where he’s gone has him speeding up.

Although he’d been gone for under an hour, his screen is bright with various notifications, social media accounts and text messages. He ignores the former and searches for the latter, specifically the contact, Val 😛💦. Scrolling quickly, he comes to a stop but not because of his original intent.

His head cocks, and he knits his brows when he sees your name instead; formally nicknamed, bambi, due to your penchant for clumsiness and general fragility. You don’t text him—except for that one time you needed to be picked up from the library—and considering you know he’s just outside, his baffled curiosity is further spurred.

With a sideways swipe of his thumb, your thread enlarges on the high-definition display. He isn’t sure what he expected, but this? Oh, this, definitely is not it. His eyes widen as the content loads, and reveals you, in all your half-naked glory.

“Shit,” he breathes out raggedly, blinking multiple times because he has to be seeing things. But, nope, it’s still you—looking like that, wearing that. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Your brothers are beginning to call his name, demanding his attendance, and he froze in shock, unable to tear his stare away from the girl who’s tripped over her own feet more times than he can count; the wallflower who spends all her time studying in her room; the forbidden fruit who’s innocent has always stirred a vigilant feeling inside him—now stirring something hard between his thighs because there you are.

Like always, your hair is done prettily, wispy-lashed eyes big and inviting, a saucy pout to your glossed lips. Your flawless complexion seems to glow in the reflection of the mirror, and he doesn’t know if it’s because of the warm lighting, or if it’s the confidence you exude in your faux-innocent expression from where something so sinfully sexy.

Three photos, and every single one is like a punch in the gut; displaying your usually hoodie-hidden figure in its bare, exquisite form. The skimpy white two-piece caresses your breasts in a lace halter top, leaving a teasing amount of cleavage. Your navel exposed, he becomes aware of how soft your skin would be. Moving lower, your untouched flower is wrapped in a thin thong with a bow on the center of the waistband.

A million things flit through his head; a million disgusting things he never thought he’d think about you.

The main one is every sort of attraction these snapshots arouse. A laser slices down his center and sears him to the core. The multiple poses calls every hungry part of him to attention, the curve of your breasts, the contours of your hips and the jut of your ass. And he shoves to the darkest recess in his mind because that’s just an innate reaction to lingerie. (Right? Right.)

He combats your images with that of Val: knows-what-she’s-doing and equally promiscuous as him Val. The anthropology major who downs beers within seconds and tongue kisses the first person she sees afterwards.

The next is the one he focuses on, that you would take these and send them to him—as if he’d betray your brothers like that. Second-hand embarrassment strikes him because he knows if you’ll send something as risky as this, he’ll have to formally reject you and break your unreciprocated pining heart.

He grimaces at the thought. This is why he doesn’t do virgins and the less experienced in general. The inherent strings are a killer, and he resents the drama; and it’d be ten times worse with you because of the added complications of your siblings.

In fact, he hears something beyond him, coming down the hallway, and it’s probably them, but he can’t stop rereading your text accompanying the photos, partially imagining how it’d sound in your delicate voice:

bambi (4:21PM): is this as pretty as you imagined? did i do good? just tell me what you want, and ill do it. i want you. soon, please - and yes, ill beg. i promise itll sound even better in person.

[read it in its entirety on my patreon - one time fee of $5 to access!]

#bucky x reader #bucky x you smut #bucky barnes imagines #marvel imagines #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel x you #bucky smut series #marvel chaptered fics #my writing #tva

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buckybabybaby · 4 years

Text

Birthday Wish

A/n: As promised, Bucky smut to celebrate this blog turning 3 on Wednesday!! And the first time I posted fanfiction! (And me turning 27...)

If you're not over 18 please don't read.

Proof read by way of a text-speech device

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader (Female) friends to lovers

Word count: 2055

Warnings: 18 + Smut. Thigh ridinggg ;)

Plot: Bucky finds your fan blog, and decides to reward the birthday girl

(I'm posting this in May 2020, so you can imagine you and Bucky are stuck together because you're in quarantine like half the world is atm, but if you're reading this in the future when (hopefully!) we're a bit more free to move just imagine you're on a mission or awaiting rescue or something, and that's why you're together...)

(Part Two)

added in May 2021!

Birthday Masterlist – the other fics I've written on my birthday in the past 3 years are all here

Main Masterlist

*****

“Y/N? Can I borrow you for a minute?”

This isn't an unusual request from Bucky. Ever since he joined the team, the two of you have spent many hours together, working through one issue or another. Sometimes it'sa trivial problem, like how to use the fancy coffee machine or turn on the gyms sound system, other times its more delicate in its nature, such as helping him catch up on eighty years of rather eventful history, some of which he had an unwilling hand in.

More often than not though, it is to do with the internet, and the endless mess it throws at him. Judging by the laptop resting in front of where he's sat, you're guessing he's found something else to worry about.

“What seems to be the problem, Bucky?” You ask, wandering out of the kitchen and into the living room, taking a seat next to him on the sofa.

“No problem, not right now at least. I just wanted to talk.”

“Oh?”

He nods. “First, close your eyes.”

As instructed, you shut your eyes. Being isolated with Bucky for over a month now, you're so comfortable around him you don't even question his request, somehow knowing that his intentions aren't malicious. It feels like that trust goes both ways, too, as before this forced seclusion together he wouldn't have let you sit any wear near as you are right now.

“I found this in the supply cupboard last time I was using the vacuum. I thought it would be appropriate, given what day it is.”

Blinking your eyes back open as you feel him place something lightly on top of your hair, he smiles softly at you as you reach up to take it off and work out what it is.

“Happy birthday.”

Your gaze, which had been fixed on the sparkly tiara adorned with those two words in silver gems, snaps back up to meet his in shock.

“How-?”

“You think I'd forget?” He laughs kindly. “I was at your party last year.”

“But still, with everything-”

“I know, and I know why you didn't mention it.” He takes the tiara from your grip and replaces it upon your head. “You think just because we can't go out anywhere or see any of your other friends, then its not worth celebrating?”

“Kinda?”

“Doll,” He chides. “We can have fun together can't we?” The air in the room shifts and feels heavier as his fingers linger close to the side of your face, and you don't think it's your imagination that his voice has got deeper. “Isn't this what you wanted? Just you and me?”

“Err?”

He opens his laptop and turns it towards you. “This is the other thing I wanted to talk to you about. I think you'll find this quite interesting.”

Leaning into his space to see the screen, the image in the corner grabs your attention, and when he scrolls further down the page to reveal the whole picture, your body goes rigid with fear.

Bucky is on your blog.

More specifically, your fan blog dedicated to the man sitting next to you, where you've shared every dirty thought you've ever had about him, and had very explicit conversations about what you want him to do to you.

“Recognise this, Y/N?”

Time unfreezes, and as the adrenaline kicks in you stand so quickly you get dizzy, bolting for the front door to escape. Unfortunately your light-headedness makes you slow and Bucky easily catches up before you can get too far. Spinning you back round to face him and walking you half a step backwards to the wall, his hands come up on either side of your head to box you in, and you swallow at the audible 'click' of the lock as he commands the security system to seal you in.

“Where are you off to, sweetheart?”

You can't look at him. Never before have you regretted something more, wished you could turn back the clock, or just simply disappear. Why did you think you could get away with it? There's no one to blame for this situation but you and your stupid arrogance.

“I'm sorry,” You whisper, still avoiding eye contact. “I never meant for you to find that.”

“Clearly,” He says, laughing under his breath until he notices the tears forming. Tilting your head up so your gazes meet, he smiles reassuringly. “Hey, I'm not angry. Or creeped out or disgusted, or anything. I didn't let you know I'd found out to make you cry, especially not on you're birthday. So please don't get upset.”

Wiping at your cheeks gently, he continues to speak calmly. “I may seem clueless when it comes to technology, but I can put my own name into a search engine, and when I found this blog with very specific details about me only someone close would know, it didn't take long to put two and two together. Especially when they'd post about their day, couldn't be a coincidence every time that it was exactly what you'd done too, could it? I've known about this for a while now, if I felt uncomfortable about it I would have said something sooner.”

“Why now?” You whisper, letting one of your hands move up to grip at the hem of his top, a more pleasant sort of internal heat taking over from the shame even as your heart continues to race.

“Thought I'd fulfil that birthday wish you posted about this morning.”

You nearly go limp against the wall behind you at his words, so turned on you can't think straight, tugging sharply on his shirt as he chuckles at your reaction.

“Thought you might like that,” He grins slyly. “There is some absolute filth on that blog of yours, darling. Where's that Y/N been hiding?” Guiding your arms over his shoulder, his mouth presses kisses along the column of your neck. “Some of the things on there I never even knew existed, definitely not things I ever would've imagined you'd be into.”

Bucky pushes he hips into yours, and you gasp at the feel of his erection. “Sweet little innocent Y/N. Not so innocent it seems, hmm?”

Your positively dripping at this point, the ache in between your legs growing with every second Bucky fails to do anything about it.

“And what was it you were talking about earlier, huh?” He teases a hand over your collar bone, where your skin is flushed and hot to the touch. “Thigh riding?”

You whine as he says that, knowing how in-depth you'd gone on that particular post. “Oh yes, Y/N. I know all about how much you love having-”

“I've never actually-” You squeak out, voice breaking at the end as you try to defend yourself.

Most of your blog is just talk, without any real life experience to base it off, but that was what it is there for. An outlet for your frustrations, especially after spending all day with Bucky.

His surprised expression quickly morphs back into lust at your admission. “Never? How about you test it out then, see if it lives ups to the reality?”

You can barely get enough air into your lungs to stay upright, let alone form a reply, but he waits patiently as you process your thoughts.

Pushing all your nerves aside, you nod shyly. “I mean, I don't really know how-”

Grinning at obtaining your consent, he gracefully sweeps you up into his arms. “That's alright, we can figure it out together.”

He's sat back on the sofa before you know it, this time with you on top, his hands resting gently on your sides as you try to work out what you should do.

A light swat to your bottom makes you jump. “Come on, Y/N, don't keep me waiting.”

The slight dominance in his tone has you hurrying to comply, eager to please. Shuffling onto your knees so you can rise up off of his lap and quickly slip off your joggers, you lower yourself back down on to one of his thighs and rest your arms over his shoulder again as you breathe heavily.

Cautiously rolling your hips, the resulting spark of pleasure is a welcome surprise. Even in your lust fogged internet rambling, you had considered how awkward this could be outside of fantasy, but with Bucky its easy. It feels like his thigh was made for this, just the right size between your legs to have you whimpering, seeking out more as his hands on your waist push you to move faster.

“Oh, fuck Bucky,” You moan shakily, finding the perfect rhythm quickly with his help.

He watches open mouthed as you grind on him, pupils blown at the sight. “That's it, good girl. Take what you need.”

You hadn't expected it to feel so good, even though you're still wearing your panties, and Bucky's own trousers are soaked with the evidence of your arousal. Normally you need a lot of stimulation to feel good, a lot of build up to get you anywhere close, and before today you couldn't imagine anything could feel this intense this fast.

Maybe its the days and weeks of confinement that have had you on edge and frustrated constantly, or maybe its just because its Bucky Barnes, but either way, your high is nearing in record time and there's not a thing you can do to stop it.

“Bucky, I'm-”

“I know sweetheart, I've got you. Let go.”

His wish is your command, your body shuddering as you reach your climax, clinging desperately to him as white hot pleasure shoots through you, your toes curling and breath coming in shakily. He helps you through it, moving his thumb to rub circles over your clit just as you're recovering, sending you into another spiral of bliss, his name mumbled quietly as you twitch.

Bucky watches you closely as you come down, your body going floppy in his hold once the ringing in your ears dies down, and then his lips are on yours for the first time, hands cupping your face to keep you close. He can't resist you, not when you're all blissed-out and pliant in his lap.

Nobody could resist you like that.

Too quickly for you to react and return the kiss, he's jolting away, back pressing into the cushions of the sofa as if he's trying to escape.

“Shit, I'm sorry,” He gasps, avoiding your puzzled stare. “I shouldn't have done that, I don't even know if you like me in that way-”

You cut of his panicked rambling by pressing your mouth to his again, not able to kiss him properly as you're still short of breath, just pecking at his lips clumsily in an attempt to convince him of your deep feelings.

In a reversal of roles from earlier, you rest your forehead against his to catch his eye. “Of course I like you outside of... this. I like you a lot Bucky, and I'd like you a lot more if you kissed me again.”

He does just that, sucking gently on your lower lip when he pulls away with a grin. “Would you also like to have dinner with me tonight?” He asks, a little of his confidence back as he anticipates your answer. “I know we can't go out properly, but it could still be a date?”

“I'd love that,” You say, leaning into his chest happily.

He grunts quietly as you shift in his hold, your elation at finally getting everything you want with Bucky making you forget for a second about his own arousal still trapped between your bodies.

Deliberately rocking your hips into his again, his eyes darken at your giggled, “Oops?”

“Little brat. Just because you're wearing that tiara doesn't mean you can act like a princess. Was that not enough to satisfy you?” At the shake of your head, he purses his lips “Well, I'm not that hungry quite yet. I think it would be a good idea to go work up an appetite, and maybe work through your other little fantasies?”

Picking you up and carrying you in the general direction of the bedrooms, Bucky's smirk has you squirming all over again.

“If I remember correctly, there was something on that blog of yours about my face between your thighs.”

******

(Part Two)

A/n: Happy birthday if it is your birthday today!!! all the kissess xxxxxxxx

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #buckybabybaby

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chiseler · 3 years

Text

The Silva Screen

Howard Da Silva

Am I the only one who constantly gets character actors Howard Da Silva and Henry Silva confused?

Howard Da Silva was born in Cleveland in 1909 and was working as a steelworker when he decided to go to drama school. He first appeared on Broadway at age 20, and made a name for himself playing Jud in the original production of Oklahoma!.

Da Silva (born Silvablatt) was a burly, jowly man with a boxer’s face, thinning hair and an unmistakable voice, half-midwest, half Lower East Side. He made the move to Hollywood in the mid-thirties and, over the next decade and a half established himself as a familiar screen presence playing gruff but ultimately understanding characters. He was the tough but fatherly criminal mentor in They Drive By Night, and Nat, Ray Milland’s wise but increasingly frustrated bartender in The Lost Weekend. He played opposite Alan Ladd and Veronica Lake in The Blue Dahlia, Edward G. Robinson and John Garfield in The Sea Wolf, and portrayed Wilson in the 1949 adaptation of The Great Gatsby.

After actor and fink Robert Taylor, while testifying as a friendly witness before HUAC in 1947, described Da Silva as a troublemaker “who always has something to say at the wrong time,” Da Silva himself was called to testify about his supposed communist sympathies. When brought before the committee in 1951, Da Silva became the first of over three hundred writers, actors and directors to refuse to answer questions, citing the Fifth Amendment. He was promptly blacklisted and for much of the next decade vanished from movie and television screens, though he continued to work in theater.

When he reappeared in the early Sixties, older, balder, and jowlier, he found himself playing an array of historical figures from Ben Franklin to Franklin Roosevelt to Boss Tweed to, ironically, Nikita Kruschev in The Missiles of October and Louis B. Mayer in Mommy Dearest. He also appeared in the 1974 adaptation of The Great Gatsby, this time around playing Meyer Wolfsheim. He made his final screen appearance in 1984’s Garbo Talks, and died of cancer two years later.

Henry Silva

Henry Silva, meanwhile, was born in Brooklyn in 1928. Although often accused of being Puerto Rican, he insisted his mother was Spanish and his father Sicilian. His father walked out on the family when Henry was three months old, at which point he and his mother moved to Harlem.

Silva, who had decided early on to become an actor, dropped out of public school at age 13 and enrolled in acting classes, taking a dishwashing job in a local hotel restaurant to help support him and his mother. Fourteen years later, he’d finally worked his way up the ranks to become a waiter in that same hotel.

Then twenty-seven, Silva, having grown into a darkly handsome young man standing six-foot-two, decided to apply to the Actor’s Studio, and was accepted. He soon made his Broadway debut in in 1956 in A Hatful of Rain, with classmates Shelley Winters and Ben Gazzara. The play became such a hit it soon landed Silva in Hollywood, where he co-starred in the 1957 film adaptation.

His commanding stature and sharp, angular, swarthy good looks not only made Silva an easy choice for producers looking for a suave but sinister villain, they also allowed him to play everything from Mexicans to Russians to Italians to Middle Easterners to Asians to Native Americans with very little extra makeup. He was a chameleon without even trying.

In the Fifties and early Sixties he played a string of suave and sinister gangsters, killers and thieves on TV series like The Untouchables, Climax and The Outer Limits and in films ranging from Green Mansions to Ride a Crooked Trail. He became a regular Rat Pack satellite, appearing in Ocean’s 11, Sergeants 3, and making guest spots on The Joey Bishop Show, as well as playing one of the evil stepbrothers in Jerry Lewis’ Cinderfella. In what may have been his breakthrough role, he again co-starred with Sinatra in 1962’s The Manchurian Candidate as the double-crossing Korean guide who delivers Sinatra’s company into the hands of those dirty commies.

He earned his first starring role the next year as the titular Mob assassin Johnny Cool (co-starring fellow Rat Pack alumni Joey Bishop and Sammy Davis Jr.), after which he accepted an invitation from an Italian producer and moved his family to Rome. Over the next decade he would become a star throughout Europe, appearing in dozens of Spaghetti Westerns, occasionally even playing the hero.

He returned to the States in the mid-Seventies to once again co-star with Sinatra in 1977’s Contract on Cherry Street. Following that, he would spend much of the Eighties playing cartoon villains in comic strip movies (Buck Rogers, Dick Tracy) and and endless string of cheap jingoistic action films (Megaforce, Code of Silence), as well as a few sub-lowbrow comedies (Cannonball Run II, Lust in the Dust). He was admittedly spectacular in his brief turn as Brock, the would-be Great White hunter out to kill a monstrous alligator roaming the Chicago sewer system in Lewis Teague’s 1980 darkly comic monster movie Alligator.

After co-starring in Jim Jarmusch’s 1999 Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai and a quick cameo in the 2001 remake of Ocean’s 11, Silva retired from acting at age 73.

But back to where all this started—namely, am I the only one who gets Howard Da Silva and Henry Silva confused?

Yes, Howard Da Silva was some twenty years older than Henry Silva. And yes, Howard was born in Cleveland to Jewish parents while Henry was a Spanish-Italian kid from Brooklyn. And yes, Howard was a steel woorker while Henry washed dishes in a hotel restaurant. And yes, Henry was some four inches taller than Howard, and had thick black hair to boot. Yes, Henry tended to play suave and sinister villains while Howard tended to play gruff but lovable types. Yes, Henry played everything from Italians to Mexicans to Asians while Howard was as decidedly American as they come, and yes, Henry is still alive while Howard died in 1986. But if you’re going to say “Yes, you dunce, you’re the only one who gets them confused, because you’re stupid,” consider the following.

First, Henry Silva’s official biography is suspiciously inconsistent. Despite repeated claims about his heritage, a 1930 U.S. Census entry states that both of Silva’s parents were from Puerto Rico. But I guess being half Spanish and half Sicillian is much more Romantic than being just another Puerto Rican kid from Brooklyn. That same form also lists Henry’s given name as “Harry.” What’s more, after supposedly working at the same hotel for fourteen years, shouldn’t he have worked his way up to something more than waiter? You’d think he’d at least be night manager or something, right? And despite his claims he made his film debut only after the 1956 Broadway premiere of A Hatful of Rain, his first screen appearance was actually in 1952’s Viva Zapata!.

Now, given we can clearly not trust a thing Henry Silva says, or has ever said, about himself, ask yourself the following questions:

Is it mere coincidence that Howard Da Silva and Henry Silva, as prolific as both were, never appeared onscreen together? Their careers overlapped for some thirty years! What are the odds of that? I mean, Sinatra co-starred with Groucho Marx, for godsakes!

And is it sheer coincidence that Henry Silva’s film debut in Viva Zapata! occurred at the precise moment Howard Da Silva had been blacklisted? Think about it—Howard vanishes and Henry steps in. Hmm, right? Plenty of other blacklisted artists worked under the radar by using pseudonyms. Maybe Howard, given his troublemaking reputation, decided to take the idea of thumbing his nose at HUAC a few steps further. I mean, take a look at the two of them side by side. Give Howard some lifts, a little swarthy makeup and a black toupee and BOOM! He’s Henry Silva.

And what better way to throw off the scent than to play a completely opposite character type from the one you were known for? And how better to flip the bird, just for fun, than by playing a bunch of evil communists and revolutionaries?

After the blacklist ended, Howard was faced with a dilemma. He could work again, which was great, but what to do about Henry? Kill him off? Retire him? His career had just taken off and was going great guns in the early Sixties. Then it struck him—with Henry still around, he had two solid income streams flowing. Why give that up? Both Howard and his alter-ego Henry were character actors, after all, meaning they were rarely needed on set for more than a couple days on each picture. Easy as pie to do a Howard role one day, then a Henry role at the end of the week.

My god, it’s all so perfect! What an ingenious scheme! And what better way to throw everyone off the scent for good than to have Howard “die” in 1986? At that point, after all, Henry was awfully busy with those stupid action movies that paid so well, while Howard’s own jobs were becoming more sporadic and low-profile.

So there you have it, and remember you read it here first—Howard Da Silva and Henry Silva WERE THE SAME PERSON! I likely never would have figured it out for myself had Howard just put another minute’s worth of work into choosing a name for his alter ego back in 1952.

By Jim Knipfel

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helpinghanikan · 4 years

Text

And they were quarantined

Marvel (and Matt Murdock) x Reader

Sum: Oh my God, they were quarantined.

AN: Guess whose school is shut down!

Steve Rogers:

Steve has already gone through the ringer of blood tests and experiments. Nothing was found in the forties, nothing was found when he awoke years later, and there was nothing found now. Instead it was business as usual for him.

Laying back against the couch and staring at the TV in mostly confusion. A few times sitting forward, and then leaning back. He probably wasn’t even aware that he was doing it. It was like watching someone on a rocking chair; absentmindedly going back and forth, not realizing that his old lady was waiting for him to notice her.

“Most people don’t know how to react to this.” You finally say, getting bored of watching him go back and forth.

It’s a manner of habit that you hand him a drink before taking up the couch seat next to him. He’s barely finished his first sip when your legs take their natural place across his lap. Strong hands massaging your calves, a similar habit your delivery of the drink.

“’Most’?” Steve says with almost a laugh. “Who do you know that can react to this?”

He chuckles at the look you give him. But his hands do press a little harder into your leg.

“It was mainly Mom who was doing the panicking. She wouldn’t let me outside unless she was with me when I was little.” He says this while switching focus between TV and your legs. “She would hold my hand tight where-ever we went. I’m pretty sure the first time she had let go was when there was just too many groceries.”

You were still listening, you swear. But the work his hands did caused reactions out of your control. His hands had found their way up your pant legs. Squeezing and pressing almost randomly from the back of your knees down to the soles. A few times his dull nails could scratch and drag down and up your skin.

There was no way Steve had ever bothered the learn how to properly message someone. With his regular struggles with technology there was slim chance he had ever googled it. This entire affair, to him, was on the same level of petting a cat. Until you showed any displeasure he’d keep doing what he’s doing.

“Isn’t the point of social distancing is to be away from eachother?” You ask from somewhere in your comfy place.

He smiles fondly, both hands sliding up your calf. “She didn’t see that as the issue. She was just like everyone’s mom. So long as I was holding onto to something she trusted I was safe in her mind. She made Bucky hold my hand when we were really little when going outside.”

“Aww…” You say, “Lil’ baby Bucky holding Lil’ baby Steve-y’s hand.”

“I’m still alive, aren’t I?” He says with another chuckle.

There would come a point when Steve would have to get back out there. When that point comes you’d be left alone for a long while. For now, though, you focused his dull nails. And that you finally had to time to introduce him to google.

0-0-0

Tony Stark:

It didn’t matter if you had experience or not, this was an all hands-on deck situation. Afterall, it didn’t take a genius businessman to yell at some floor managers.

Tony had only appointed three people to speak on his behalf; You, Happy and Pepper. As usual Pepper took point as the media woman and boss of the operation. Leaving you and Happy to be the mouth pieces: using the tablets to pop in the mangers offices.

“No, Mr. Stark isn’t here, I’m here. And I’m telling you to start making these now.” Happy was getting into the role of designated yell-er pretty well. Almost smiling although he was supposed to be serious.

“Don’t let them try and explain things. You already know,” Pepper leaned over your shoulder before you had the chance to call. Playing the part of your coach in this confidence game.

“But I don’t know,” You almost whisper, already proving this job might not be for you.

“So you just pretend like you do. Be firm, don’t let him argue, you got this.” Pepper says.

She slides back to her seat on the couch. Two phones already set to handle the influx of coming questions. She’s been bouncing between the phone, Happy and you for the past hour or so. Only taking a breath when Tony made a call to check in.

This wasn’t the first time you had to step up for Stark industries. Playing the part of assistant, representative and even coffee runner when the need arose. But, even with all that, those a little below Tony still didn’t see you as anything more than Mr. Stark’s arm candy.

Before this was just an assumption you had. Seeing how the faces of these men and women change when your face appears on screen confirms it.

The first supervisor you reached actually rolled her eyes at you. You hadn’t even given the order to start on the ventilators, you had only stated your name.

“I know who you are,” She had interrupted you to state this.

The confidence from Pepper and Tony had seeped into your very being at that point. Whether it was because this bitch had taken an attitude or that Pepper was watching, but it all came out at once.

“Then you know who I know,” Your spine straightened, and you almost became another person. “I’m speaking on behalf of Anthony Stark, your Boss’s boss, and the manufacturing is going to be changing for a bit. An email was sent this morning regarding the change, have you received it?”

There was a twinge in the Bitch’s eyebrow at your tone. “Yes, we got the email this morning. But it wouldn’t be a sound decision to make these changes-.”

“It’s a good thing that it’s not your decisions, then. Get it started and a memo ready to Ms. Potts when you are all set.” You say, “I’m even going to let you have the last word in. Any comments?”

The floor manager hangs up, but she got the message.

0-0-0

Thor:

It’s selfish to say but you wish Thor had just kept his mouth shut. The second he told the world that, not only was he immune to human diseases, he couldn’t be a carrier either he practically disappeared from that spot.

Now you are just the handler following him around. From soft chairs to hard chairs you watch him donate time and blood to a world that wasn’t his. Still, you would force a valid smile when he came out. Continuing to do so until you were stopped from going inside, at least, not without a white suit and face mask.

“I can’t see your face through these,” He comments from a table. Reaching out to poke at your glasses.

“I can see plenty of you, though.” You say, still annoyed about his constant lack of shirt.

“It’s to see the reactions,” He perks himself out, as if on display. “It’s called-they call it observation. It’s to observe.”

“We won’t be watching you for much longer.” It’s random doctor numb. 4 who says this. Sliding the lab door behind her. “I just need to take the pictures and you’ll both be able to go to your room.”

Ah, yes, the room. A suited-up hospital room you were forced to share. Granted, this was entirely your choice. You’ve been told, several times, that you are more than free to leave. They only needed Thor to test and experiment. But the moment you left the hospital there was no way you’d be let back in.

So you settle: cross your arms and let Doctor numb. 4 take pictures of your man shirtless.

0-0-0

Bucky Barnes:

The carpet is going to wear through from his pacing between the window, the office, and the couch. Sitting or standing only long enough to turn something on before making his way to the next spot. At some point you’ve stopped moving over for him to take his seat. Instead just raising your arm when he got close enough. Allowing the room for him to settle against you. Then immediately raising the same arm to let him go and make his rounds again.

It was an odd situation for him to be in: Not allowed to leave but there was nothing physically (or mentally) stopping him. The only thing keeping him in were the looks you gave from the couch.

Now, Bucky reached the point where he just stared out the window like a house cat.

“If I go for a run, will anyone stop me?” He asks.

“People over eighty are the highest at risk right now.” You say, not bothering to look up when “just saying. It’s safer for you to stay inside, old man.”

He moves from the window, your arm raises. The couch, an old thing donated from your old roommate, creaked under his weight. If this were a cartoon there’d be dust clouds puffing out from the cushions. Bucky is more likely to catch something from the couch then anything out there.

0-0-0

Natasha Romanoff:

There’s a word for being offended by something but understanding why, it just couldn’t be thought of at the moment.

The world had been close to being on fire several times and Nat has been involved in almost all of them. Now, with an enemy that can’t simply be shot or lied to, Nat’s talents had to be used elsewhere.

“The openings this pandemic made are insane. So many of the bad guys are going to take advantage, or they already are.” Nat has explained over the phone.

“Yeah, I know. I get it. Can you just, you know, be careful?” It was a sappy, predictable thing to ask, but there was comfort in her reaction.

At that point you hadn’t seen or heard from Nat in two weeks. That was nothing new, she was like a cat. You’d go to sleep with her beside you and wake up with a cold space. From there it would be a little search to find some trace of her. Usually coming as a note saying she had to bug out suddenly, or she’d come back after a few minutes bagel or coffee in hand.

The day she left there was a little sticky note saying she had to run. None of those notes ever had a time frame of where she was going or when she was getting back. She wouldn’t reply or contact until it was safe, and that could be actual minutes before she comes through the door.

It’s embarrassing to admit that you had waited with the little burner phone. It would only ever ring for Nat. And it hasn’t done so in almost forever.

0-0-0

T’challa:

For all of Wakanda’s technology there was no cure for paranoia and loyalty. Instead of your man greeting you off of the plane it was doctors and two of the Dora Milaje in masks.

“It’s just for a few more days, two weeks.” Shuri says from the other side of the glass.

“Two weeks are not ‘a few days’,” You correct.

There really wasn’t anything to this room that you could complain about. It was mostly white, like every hospital room, but there was splashes of color in the blankets and the furniture. A large TV facing a love seat and bookshelf prepared with everything from fiction to medical encyclopedias. All you had to do was ask and you could get anything else you could want or needed. Even with that you sat on the raised hospital bed, legs swinging under the frame.

“Is there anything you can do? A test that can clear her faster?” T’challa speaks to his sister in their mother language.

After spending more then half of your time in Wakanda you were starting to pick up the language. Maybe you could convince someone who didn’t know any of the language that you were fluent. Even after playing with those language apps you were, at best, a conversationalist.

“You’re welcome to go in,” Shuri says. She then pauses and looks back at him. “That was a joke. Don’t go inside.”

T’challa looks back at you through the window. Playing the part of the fearless leader who was only slightly concerned. Leaning forward against the edge of the window to look in at you. The first smile you have seen since getting there came after you gave a little wave.

0-0-0

Pietro Maximoff:

When everything started to get shady Pietro had two choices: spend the time on mission that avoid populated areas. Or slow way down: spend the quarantine as a regular person, at a regular speed. Supposedly, this was in case he was spreading the disease without having any symptoms.

He chosen the second; actually taking the elevator, walking to your joint apartment. His choice to spend the time with you was a gesture greater than flowers.

“It’s better to wake to your face then my snoring sister’s.” He had said, jokingly waving it off. Although he did move around the apartment with more pride.

The first two days of isolation were just as sweet as his gesture. Like an extended date. It began to wear out when having sex became something to do when there was nothing else worth doing. When wearing pajamas, although clean, just made everything feel dirty. And watching him run back and forth in the apartment was like watching a tiny dog with a bad case of the zoomies.

Cracks started to show when the downstairs neighbors had enough and moved on from just banging on the ceiling.

Your neighbor’s knock on the door had prepared you for the basics: Neighbor might be passive aggressive and ask a stupid question then mock you for whatever answer you gave. More likely they were angry and would start shouting the moment your shadow showed under the door.

The man at the door was the opposite of the angry neighbor stereotype. A sluggish looking man whose shirt needed to be ironed and hair was hidden by a hat to avoid having to be brushed. The level of done he was had surpassed anger.

“Please, please stop.” He says when you open the door.

Nothing had prepared you for that. The downstairs apartment had a family, you knew that, but you’d never really talked to them. Usually only banging on the ceiling when Pietro does his zoomies.

“I am so sorry,” You said, knowing that Pietro was watching from somewhere behind you.

Neighbor man barely nodded before turning towards the elevators.

Both you and Pietro didn’t say anything after closing the door. Pietro obviously felt bad based on the shuffling of his feet. You had to feel bad because you hadn’t really tried to stop Pietro from running around.

“Nobody will stop us if we go for a run…” You say, hoping that in the time you say that the lockdown hadn’t gotten stricter.

“That’s going to be more of a walk,” Pietro comments.

Doing nothing all day has become more tiring then it should be. Making you too tired to even consider getting offended or arguing with his comment. “You wanna-, I don’t know. You wanna have sex?”

He shrugs, trying to come off as nonchalant as you seemed to be. But the slight smile he had at your suggestion was still obvious. “Sure, if you want to.”

You roll your eyes at him but are the first to step towards the couch.

0-0-0

Peter Parker:

Gatherings have to be less than ten, two was probably good enough. Especially when one was wearing a mask, and not the mask he usually wears.

“I think the six feet would be enough.” You say, taking the seat at the furthest end of the couch.

“Aunt May asked me to wear it,” Peter takes off the mask at the other end. Sitting perched on the arm of the couch facing you. “I told her we’re not going out anywhere. I think it was just for the walk over here.”

There was a small debate about what exactly the regulations meant when they said, “six feet apart.” Both of you stretching out your legs along the couch until your feet are intertwined. It was decided that, so long as your mouths are six feet apart, you were okay. Your feet didn’t count.

For the past few weeks the closest to affection was a game of footsie. Socked feet lightly kicking back and forth at each other until your legs get twisted together.

At no point was there a conversation about this being your go to activity. At first, it was assumed it would just be a streaming service binge. Then his foot tapped yours and it continued until your entangled. It’s only a few seconds later that you’re breaking the six-foot rule.

0-0-0

Stephen Strange:

It shouldn’t be so surprising that Stephen had gone back into the field. Although he wouldn’t be going back into the operating room he could still help out with the basics.

Although you shouldn’t be surprised it was still annoying. Without being married or living together you weren’t going to see him for a while. Instead bribing him for pictures of the Doctor in scrubs to be sent over text. An over the bra picture of your breasts in exchange for your man in uniform.

You hadn’t asked but he seemed to be happy to be back, even a little bit. Without much communication the best you can do is make a guess. Once or twice his name has been mentioned on the news. He wasn’t interviewed, for obvious reasons, though.

Even that small thing would be nice, though. To hear him and see him in another way then just the phone.

0-0-0

Matt Murdock:

It’s amazing how Matt’s world somehow exists on both ends of the adaptation spectrum. Your smell, or more romantically described, your scent was the easiest to get used to. Especially after that particular perfume mysteriously disappeared. With your scent in his apartment it almost overpowered the downstairs neighbor and their habit of forgetting to take out their garbage.

The hardest thing to get used to was your physical presence. This wasn’t your fault; you were being as quiet as possible. Music played lower through headphones, wearing slippers and socks around the house, even the dishes were washed set down as lightly as possible. It was impossible to avoid messing with Matt’s world, especially at night.

“What’s wrong?” He’d ask, half-alive, whenever you’d try and slide out of bed.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” You’d whisper, leaning over the bed. “Go back to sleep.”

But he couldn’t. Everything at night was amplified; the rats in the street, the neighbors, everything. Especially his girlfriend using the bathroom or getting water in the middle of the night. Or worse, doing work on your laptop. The tapping of the keys was worse than a dripping sink that somehow happened, at the same time, in three different apartments.

Worse than that was when you’d ask if you bothering him. Of course it was annoying, he wouldn’t give up on trying to sleep if it wasn’t annoying. How does it explain why it’s annoying, though?

“No, no you’re fine. Foggy is going to go crazy if I don’t go over this paperwork.” He’d explain away, even if the paperwork was done days ago.

With everything in lock-down Dare Devil had more time to be with his girl. But being with someone and locking yourself in a apartment with someone for unknown amount of time is different.

0-0-0

Carol Danvers:

“This is really…not what I’m used to.” Carol says in the makeup chair, staring at herself in the mirror.

Mr. Makeup had his work cut out for him. How was the Captain Marvel supposed to look for this kind of PSA? Heroic with hair extensions and fan? Or curled locks and red lips with a camera angle the accentuates the muscled figure everyone secretly think about. In the end he went with natural colors, maybe a little dark lines around the eyes.

“Literally everyone of you have said that. Be happy that we aren’t making you do as many as Mr. Steve Rogers.” Ms. PR lady finally puts away her phone, walking around Mr. Makeup and leaning against Carol’s shoulder. “You just have to look into that camera and tell the world that we are in this together. ‘Now is the time for unity, there is enough suffering already.’ Okay?”

Carol looks towards you in one of the chair. Matching your face of ‘really?’.

“I’ll see you out there,” Ms. PR says, then turning towards Mr. Makeup. “Add some wrinkles or something, make her angrier.”

Although looking back to you, your face no longer matched hers. Instead you’re hiding behind your face. Pretending that she couldn’t see you behind the screen nor could hear your laughs.

“This is not something that my abilities are going to help with.” It’s obvious that Carol is starting to sound bitter about the whole thing.

“This pandemic isn’t something you can just shoot.” You say, giving up the phone and moving next to your woman.

The look she gave you was probably the level of threatening Ms. PR was looking for.

“Babe, I know.” Carol says, almost snaps.

Carol was a military woman; good at tactics and fighting. Not the person you would go to first in regards to handling a pandemic. But certainly the first when it comes to making sure people stay in line.

Sliding the phone away you take the rightful place by Carol’s side. “I’m sorry,” You say.

“I know,” she doesn’t move her head as Mr. Makeup is still toying with the foundation. “I’m just going to threaten the entire earth and then go do actual work. No offense to all of this, of course.”

Mr. Makeup just shrugs, “I’m getting paid whether you do a good job or not.” He finishes up, stopping a second to give you a quick look. “Don’t wreck the makeup, please.”

Although you tried to get a quick kiss in, Mr. Make up was ready. Shouting from the other side of the set.

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just-dreaming-marvel · 4 years

Text

EIGHTY FOUR - NINETEEN

LEGACY: A Tony Stark Daughter Story

MASTERLIST

< previous

Word Count: 2,250ish

Summary: Bailey spends her nineteenth birthday with her parents.

I lost track of time, staring at the ceiling, as I wasn’t able to fall back asleep. Around nine am, Tony waltzed in to my room, already dressed and ready for the day. His excited was overwhelming, but a nice overwhelming.

“Happy birthday sweetheart!” He exclaimed as he sat on my bed.

I gave him a small smile. “Thanks.” I tried to be excited but I was faltering and he could see through it.

“Hey now,” He put is hand on my blanket covered leg. “That’s no way to sound on your birthday. What’s wrong kiddo?”

I sat up. “Nothing, nothing’s wrong. I’m just tired.” I stretched. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Too excited for today, huh?” Tony teased.

I swung my legs over the side of my bed, my back facing Tony. “Yeah. Something like that.”

“Well,” Tony stood up and clapped his hands together. “Get dressed and then we can start the fun. I’ve got big plans for us today.”

I turned to look at Tony with an eyebrow raised. “Oh really?” His statement scared me a bit. It should scare anyone when Tony Stark has big plans.

“Really, really. It’s your 19th birthday! We need to celebrate. We’re going to celebrate!” He was way too excited, it was exhausting me.

“You need to calm down. You’re exhausting me with all of your excitement.”

“You need to fix your attitude, young lady.” He pointed his finger at me before pointing to the bathroom. “Now, go get dressed and meet me at the jet as soon as you’re finished.”

“The jet? Where are we going?”

“The city. We’re meeting Pepper there.”

“What else are we doing exactly?” I folded my arms and popped out a hip all sassily.

Tony smirked. He was definitely up to something. “You’ll just have to wait and see.” He turned towards the door and headed out of the room. “Now hurry up!”

I shook my head and chuckled as I walked into my closet. I grabbed some high waisted jeans and a sweater. I took a quick shower, changed, and then headed to the jet. Tony was standing in the doorway of the jet, impatiently waiting.

“What took you so long?” He shouted, throwing his hands up in the air like a child.

“I thought I was pretty fast considering,” I answered, climbing the stairs. “And isn’t my birthday? Don’t I get to make the rules?” When I reached Tony, he set his arm on my shoulders and kissed the side of my head as he chuckled at my comment.

“You ready?”

“I don’t know what I’m suppose to me ready for.”

We ate breakfast on the way to the city. Tony kept smiling and bouncing his knee in excitement. He was also a bit nervous. I could have dug in deeper to figure out exactly why, but I think he was just nervous about the possibility of him ruining my birthday. It wouldn’t have been the first time, and I could tell that he really wanted nothing to go wrong this time. The jet landed at the airport and Happy was ready with a car, waiting.

“Happy birthday Bailey,” He said as he engulfed me in a hug.

“Thanks Hap,” I replied, hugging him back.

He let me go and then opened the door for Tony and I. “Where to boss?” Happy asked Tony.

“The penthouse.” Tony answered, sliding into the car.

“Mmm… the new penthouse?” I teased.

“Yes, the new penthouse,” Tony said. “It’s where we’re picking up Pepper.”

I watched out the window as we drove in silence. Happy stopped in front of a building across the street from the North end of Central Park. Happy got out and opened the car door for us. The apartment building was beautiful. I followed Tony inside and to the elevator. The doors shut and I noticed that there was no button for the penthouse.

“Let me guess,” I spoke up. “You installed FRIDAY and you have to be approved to be able to get to the penthouse?”

“Correct.”

“And it’s the entire top floor of the building?”

“Yes. Well… the entire top two floors.”

“And there’s a lab?”

“Of course. It’s me, sweetheart.”

“Sweet,” I said meekly.

It’s been more than a year since I had been taken by HYDRA, and yet that nickname still sends me back there. I gave Tony a nervous side glance, just to see if he would notice. But he was too excited to realize what he had said. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, it was just my dad. He was allowed to call me that. Him and Pepper. I can handle that. I can handle that.

The elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open. The penthouse was very Tony Stark but you could also tell that Pepper definitely had a large say in the decor as well. Pepper was sitting on the couch, looking at her phone when we walked in. As soon as she saw us, she quickly jumped up and made her way to us.

“Tony! Bailey!” She excitedly greeted us.

“Hey honey,” Tony greeted as they kissed.

“How’s our birthday girl?” Pepper asked as she hugged me.

“I’m good.” I answered.

Pepper pulled back. “Good? Just good? Why’s that B?”

“I didn’t get much sleep last night. But don’t worry, I’m good.”

“She was just so excited to be celebrating her birthday!” Tony said as he wrapped an arm around me and squeezed me into his side.

“Yupp,” I said. “So, what do you two have up your sleeves?”

“You’ll see,” Tony replied.

He grabbed one of Pepper’s hands before grabbing one of mine and pulling us back into the elevator. After exiting the elevator, Tony led us out the building and down a few blocks. I really didn’t have the energy to fight him on where we were going and he was just so excited, so I went with it. We soon stopped in front of another apartment building.

“What are we doing here?” I asked.

Tony gave me a mischievous look as he answered, “You’ll see.”

He led us into the building and into the elevator. Pepper pressed button for the top floor and we began to go up. I was eyeing them both suspiciously, they were both sending off waves of excitement and nervousness. It was draining. I suddenly reached for the railing and leaned against the wall. I closed my eyes as I leaned my head back. Tony and Pepper caught on to my sudden movements.

“What’s wrong Bailey?” Tony asked, putting a hand on my shoulder.

“It’s nothing,” I replied. “You guys are just really nervous and excited. It’s a lot of strong emotions to take in at once.”

“I’m sorry, kiddo.” Tony said. “We’ll try to tone it down.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m just filtering through them. I’ll be fine in a minute.” I opened my eyes and gave a small smile. “I just have to get used to it all again.”

When the elevator came to a stop, Tony grabbed my hand and pulled me down the hall of apartment doors. He stopped at the end of the hallway, at the very last door. He let go of my hand and began to fish something out of his pocket. He pulled out a key and unlocked the door.

“Welcome home, B,” Tony said as he pushed the door open.

“Home?” I gave him a questionable look.

“Go on,” Pepper urged from behind. “It’s yours.”

I carefully looked in before stepping into the apartment. It was fully furnished, just to my liking. I walked through the entry way and into the living room and kitchen area. The outside wall was mainly windows. It overlooked Columbia University’s campus. I walked towards the windows to look at them more, grazing my hand along the back of the couch as I passed. The view was gorgeous, and I couldn’t wait to see what it was like at night. I turned around to see the kitchen. There was no dinning room table, but the island had 5 bar stools. I walked around the couch and to the hallway that led to the bedrooms. The bathroom was the first door. I closed it and opened the door immediately across from it. It was a guest bedroom. I closed the door and made my way to the next room. I opened it to see a large desk that went across the whole wall of windows. There were multiple screens and rolling office chairs. I looked on the shelves that lined one of the side walls. There were textbooks and empty note and sketch books. I walked out and entered the last room, my bedroom.

There was a king size bed in the middle of it. It was decorated with pictures of my time with Tony and the rest of my family. Most likely Pepper’s idea. I looked at the photos. I could tell that they were each carefully selected. Not one of them had Steve and I near each other. He was in a few of them, but we were never near one another. I looked away from the pictures and continued walking around the room. I entered the bathroom, it was a little smaller than the one at the compound but that didn’t matter. I walked through the bathroom and into the closet. It was full of clothes, shoes, and accessories. I was walking around the closet, touching the clothes as I passed, when Tony quietly came in and leaned against the doorway.

“How do you like it?” He asked.

“It’s perfect,” I replied. I turned around and ran over to him, engulfing him in a hug. “Thank you so much, dad. I love it.”

“Anything for you sweetheart.” He squeezed me. “I knew that this is what you wanted, so I decided to make the decision for you.”

I pulled back, but kept my hands on his arms. “Thank you so much.”

“There’s still one more thing.” Tony grabbed one of my hands and led me to the back of my closet.

“There’s more? Dad I really don’t think—“

“Sweetheart, it’s me, of course there’s more. And don’t you go saying that you don’t need it. You deserve the world.”

He pushed some of my clothes to the side to reveal a hand sensor. He led my hand that he was holding to the sensor, gently pressing it against it. It glowed green behind my hand and opened a secret door. Tony led us through the door. The room wasn’t very big, but it was amazing. My Iron suit was front and center, surrounded by knifes, guns, and other weapons lining the walls.

“I know that I can’t stop you from training, and I really do want you to be safe,” Tony started. “So I added this. This room can only be accessed by yours, mine, and Pepper’s handprints. Neither FRIDAY or SARAH can access it unless it’s an absolute emergency.”

“SARAH? Is SAR—“

“I installed her throughout the apartment. She’s all set up and ready to go.”

“I really don’t know what to say… Thank you so much.”

“Pepper helped too.”

I chuckled. “She convinced you to go through with all this, didn’t she?”

“Maybe… But hey! Give me some credit! At least I actually followed through.”

“Yes, you did.” I kissed his cheek. “Thank you, again. It’s really amazing.”

He threw his arm over my shoulders and began to guide us out of the hidden room. “There’s one more thing. It’s not a huge surprise, since we’ve been taking about it for months now, but it’s still something.”

“What is it?”

“You officially start school in January,” Pepper said. She had been waiting in the hallway for us, knowing that Tony and I needed to do the weapons room together.

“Are you serious?” I said, kind of surprised that this was actually all happening. Tony was actually going to let me live in this apartment and go to college.

“We’re serious kiddo,” Tony reassured. “We didn’t know what you wanted to major in, so feel free to change it at any time. But since we didn’t know that information, we have you double majoring in business and engineering.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” I squealed, jumping onto Tony.

He laughed and wrapped his arms around me. “Like I already said, anything for you sweetheart. I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” I whispered, trying to keep the happy tears that wanted to escape at bay.

“We chose this apartment because it’s close to campus and close to our Penthouse,” Pepper began. “You don’t have to worry about driving anywhere. And if you ever need anything, we’re close by and Happy’s always available.” Her emotion began to get the best of her and I quickly let go of Tony and pulled Pepper into a hug.

“Thank you so much Mom,” I whispered. “I love you.”

“I love you too. So much.”

Tony wrapped his arms around the two of us and we all stood there in the hallway hugging each other in silence for who knows how long. It was nice, really needed. It was in that moment that I was reminded of Happy’s note from last Christmas. This was all the family I needed. We were very broken and imperfect, but together we created a family. The family I had always longed for.

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myhockeyworld87 · 5 years

Text

Baby Blunder - Tyler Seguin

Requested: Yes

Word Count: 3099

Warnings: None

POV: Both, starts of Reader, then switches to Tyler

Notes: This was really a cute request I had fun writing. Hope you all enjoy it! Peace, Love and Hugs all!

READER POV

Seeing that little plus sign pop up, only confirmed what you’d suspected the last couple days. You’d been feeling the exact same way you had when you were pregnant the first time; only then, you had no idea why you were nauseous most of the morning. It had taken ten weeks before you discovered you were carrying Tyler’s baby then; now you couldn’t be more than five weeks along by your calculations. “You’re going to be a big brother, Liam.” You bent down to pick up your two-year-old, swinging him in your arms.

“Yay!” Little Liam, cheered, more from the swinging around than being a big brother. He probably had no idea what that meant. “More Mommy more.” He cheered, as you twirled him around one last time before setting him back on the ground.

“Now, we can’t tell Daddy; we have to make it special. Okay?” Liam shook his head yes. “Hmmm, how should we tell him?” With Liam, it was easy, you’d gone the typical route and got a baby size Seguin jersey with Daddy written on the back. Tyler had been ecstatic; even though you’d only been married for a short six months. This time you wanted to do something a little different; so you were wracking your brain trying to come up with a clever idea. Finally, you decided you’d make a special meal, baby back ribs, baby potatoes, baby carrots and baby peas; with baby bananas foster for dessert.

You and Liam, headed to the store to get all the ingredients for your baby themed dinner. On the way you passed a custom-made T-shirt shop; on a whim you stopped in and had them make a cute little shirt for Liam that said, I’m so cute, Mom and Dad decided to do it again. Big Brother coming May 2020. It would make for a great picture to send both of your families.

Tyler was away on the Stars first road trip of the season and wouldn’t be home until tomorrow; so you had time to implement your plan. That night you and Liam watched the Stars play in Detroit. You thought for sure they were going to come away with a win. Tyler scored his first goal of the season; you and Liam cheering him on from the living room of your home. However, the third period saw them fall to Detroit; it was a disappointing loss, and you could see it had taken a toll on Tyler as he walked down the ramp to the locker room. Liam had fallen asleep on the couch, so you carried him into bed. The phone rang, Tyler on the other end. “Hey babe, that was a tough loss tonight. Wish we could’ve been there in person for your first goal.”

“We played like shit tonight. I’m glad you and Liam weren’t there to see us. It’s like we can’t gel as a team or something.” You could hear the frustration in his voice.

“Ty, it’s only the third game of the season; you guys will find a rhythm soon enough.”

“Yeah, well if it doesn’t happen soon; it’s going to knock us out of everything.”

“Babe, you’re over-reacting; there are eighty-two games and you’ve only played three. Give it time.”

He blew out a breath, annoyed at both the team and your optimism. “You just don’t get it (Y/N). I’m out there skating my ass off, calling for the puck; the passes are off and I’m crashing the net, but no one on my line is there backing me up. Jamie’s playing on a different line, things are just off.”

He continued on like that for the next several minutes; and you let him. He just needed to blow off some steam; by tomorrow he would realize it was only the start of the season, and that things would come around. Eventually he asked about Liam and what new things he’d learnt today. You told him how he’d finally got the L, M, N, O, P down on his alphabet; but omitted the part where Liam found out he was going to be a big brother. Finally, he told you he loved you and that he’d see you tomorrow afternoon.

In the morning, you prepped all the food for your big dinner, Liam playing with the dogs in the background. Around two in the afternoon, Tyler strode through the door. “Hey hun,” his voice sounded dejected.

“Hey Ty, how was the flight?” You asked walking over to your husband and greeted him with a kiss; hoping to improve his mood.

“It was fine.” Gerry and Marshall had wandered over; Tyler aimlessly petting them. “Where’s my little guy?”

“He’s napping, with Cash.”

“I think I’ll join him. I couldn’t sleep on the flight; Jamie and I were trying to come up with ways to get things back on track. What’s for dinner?”

Not wanting to give much away, you answered simply; “Baby back ribs.”

“Sounds great babe. I’m gonna check on Liam and then grab a nap myself, maybe I’ll dream of how we can win this next game.”

“That’s fine. I’ll wake you up for dinner, if Liam doesn’t.” Hopefully he’d be in a better mood once he woke up. You cleaned up the toys and finished up dessert, until Liam got up, full of energy. Keeping him quiet was a chore, but the two of you played with his trains, then turned on the cartoon version of the Lion King. Around five you sent him in to wake up his dad.

Liam ran into the bedroom and jumped on the bed. “Daddy!” The toddler climbed all over Tyler, practically smothering him in the process. “Miss you.”

“I missed you too, bud.” Tyler said groggily, as he rubbed the curls atop Liam’s head. Liam was the spitting image of his father, messy curls with dark chocolate brown eyes and a smile that could melt your heart; vaguely you wondered if the new baby would have the same traits. Tyler lifted, Liam up in the air, and giggles filled the room.

“Again, daddy again.” Liam was definitely putting his father in a better mood.

“Ok you two, I’m going to finish dinner. It will be ready in about ten minutes; make sure you wash up before.”

“Yes, mommy.” Both Tyler and Liam responding before more laughter erupted.

As you entered the kitchen a bout of nerves hit you; it wasn’t that you were worried about Tyler’s reaction, for the two of you had talked about having more children. It was just that you wanted everything to be perfect. Everything was laid out on the table, as the two peas in a pod came strolling into the kitchen.

“Peas?” Tyler questioned. “You know I’m not fond of those.” He was helping Liam in his booster seat; as he turned up his nose to the vegetables.

“I no like peas either.” Liam chimed in, wanting to be just like his daddy.

“Well they’re good for you, so you’re both going to eat them.” Tyler exchanged a conspiratorial glance with his son; then pointed to the dogs. “Don’t even think about it you two.”

“Mommy’s no fun.” You rolled your eyes at your husband, as you continued to make a plate for your son. Keeping an eye on Tyler, you watched for his reaction as he scooped some baby red potatoes onto his plate, then piled on some baby back ribs; never noticing the carefully laid out theme you had going on.

“Would you like some BABY carrots.” Emphasizing the word baby, so he would take notice.

“Sure hun.” Handing the small plate over to Liam, you watched as he ate enthusiastically; then made yourself a plate. Tyler’s phone beeped and he glanced down at the message that came through. “Son of a ...”

“Language.” You warned him.

“Sorry, it’s just we can’t seem to catch a break. Jamie just text and said Dickinson is out for at least four weeks. How are we supposed to win a game, when we’re losing players left and right? I’m telling you something’s gotta change.” He was shoveling food in, not even paying attention as he spooned the dreaded baby peas in his mouth. “We need to make some line changes; and it wouldn’t hurt to practice a bit more.”

“Well I’m sure Monty’s on top of things; that is what they pay him for.”

“Yeah well, sometimes I don’t agree with some of his calls. Like last night, he changed the lines midstream and then the new guys didn’t realize it and we got caught with a stupid too many men on the ice penalty. There’s no excuse for that.”

He was so engrossed with dissecting the game that he wasn’t paying one bit to the dinner in front of him. Part of you wondered if you should just come out and tell him the news, instead you tried a different tactic. “How’s your dinner? Did you want more baby back ribs?”

“What? Oh no, I’m good. Dinner’s great hun.” He continued to eat the meal, which effectively went over his head. “But seriously babe, that penalty should’ve never happened.” He went on about the game during the duration of the meal. Finally, you brought out dessert, after you cleaned up Liam. “What’s this babe?”

“Bananas foster.”

“Why are the bananas so small?” Your spirits picked up as he examined the dish.

“I used baby ones.”

“Oh cool, that was smart thinking; much easier for Liam to eat the little ones. He never finishes a whole one.” Frustration started to set in, and you could feel yourself getting irritated. The three of you finished dessert; where you tried at least three times to tell Tyler you were pregnant. However, he kept interrupting you with different comments about the poor play of the Stars. Finally, you went and cleaned up the dishes; as Ty played with Liam in the living room

The phone beeped again, Tyler checking the screen. “Hey babe, you don’t care if I go over to Jamie’s and watch film. We really need to go over it again and see what we can fix.”

The dish in your hand fell back into the sink; as anger bubbled up inside you. “Yes, Tyler I do care. You’ve been gone for three days, and I don’t think it’s too much to ask for you to spend a few hours with your family.” You slammed the last of the dishes into the dishwasher. “But if the team is more important than us; then by all means go. I’m going to go run a bath for our child. If you can wait five minutes, while I do that; that would be helpful.”

“Geez, mommy is in a bad mood.” You heard him say as you walked back the hall, into Liam’s bathroom, where you began to cry. This part of pregnancy you remembered well; your hormones had been off the charts the last time, apparently this time was no different.

TYLER”S POV

You didn’t know what had set (Y/N) off; things seemed fine at dinner. You’d seen her get a little on edge when you’d been gone on a long road trip; Liam could be a handful from time to time. “Were you good for mommy today, buddy?” Your little man nodding his head enthusiastically. “Hmmm, then she must be mad at daddy.” Quickly you text Jamie back, letting him know you weren’t going to be able to make it over. Scooping Liam up you headed into his room. “Alright, lil dude, let’s grab some pajamas and daddy will give you a bath tonight, while mommy rests.” The two of you made your way into Liam’s closet; where you proceeded to look for his pjs.

Squirming in your arms, you set your child down. “New ones;” he said wandering over to a bag that was off to the side.

“Okay bud, let’s wear the new ones. Mommy must have been shopping, so I don’t why she’s in a bad mood.” Taking the bag from your son, you opened it to find a shirt inside. “I don’t think these are pjs buddy, there aren’t any bottoms in here.” You took another look into the bag making sure you didn’t miss them.

You were about to put the shirt back in the bag, when Liam said; “new shirt daddy.” That’s when you pulled the shirt out and really looked at it.

Slowly you let the words sink in as you read the writing. “What’s this? You’re going to be a big brother.” Liam’s little face lit up, as if he understood. Suddenly everything dawned on you; (Y/N) was pregnant. The baby carrots and ribs all made sense; she’d been trying to tell you, and all you did was complain about how poorly the team had performed over the last several games. “Oh shit. Your dad is really dumb you know that.”

“Shit.” The two-year-old repeated, then giggled.

“Oh no, don’t say that or daddy will be in more trouble.” And you were in enough as it was. “Come on bud, let’s go find mommy and see if we can make it up to her.” Grabbing Liam’s hand, you headed into the adjoining bathroom, where your wife sat on the edge of the tub, wiping away tears. “Hey baby, I think we need to talk.” Liam scooted over to his mom, wanting to comfort her, as she placed him on her lap. She quickly turned off the water, ignoring you in the process; rightfully so. You’d been an ass, not even asking her how her day was or if anything was new. “So, I a... found this in Liam’s closet.” You held out the little t-shirt; and a fresh set of tears erupted. Swiftly you sat down beside your wife and child. “I’m so stupid, (Y/N) I should’ve noticed how much effort you put into dinner. Ugh, and that little bananas comment; I mean of course you were trying to tell me something, not just making smaller food for Liam. I was just too wrapped up in the team’s problems to pay any attention.” She still wasn’t looking at you. “Baby, I’m so sorry.” Reaching over you rubbed her arm, where she held your first born. “I’m really excited about baby number two.”

Finally, she looked over at you, a small smile faint across her lips. “Me too.” A wide grin spread over your face, and hers grew bigger.

“How about you buddy, are you excited to be a big brother?” You tickled Liam’s belly, eliciting a laugh from him; as he nodded his head. “And do you want a brother or a sister?”

“Both!” He exclaimed cheerfully.

“Woah, easy bud, how about one or the other.” You wiped the tears off (Y/N)’s face. “I love you sweetheart. Thank you for making me a dad again.” Cupping her chin, you brought her lips to yours, pouring all your love into a devastatingly sweet kiss; that didn’t last long enough for your liking. “Why don’t you let me bath Liam, while you go relax on the couch; then we can all cuddle. How’s that sound?”

“It sounds perfect.” She handed Liam off to you, and headed out to get comfy.

Setting the little boy in the tub, you watched as he splashed around with his toys; before you washed all the grim little boys get into off of him. “Out daddy.”

“Ok bud, let’s get you dried off and we can go out and snuggle mommy. She’ll like that.” Once Liam was all dry, you lathered on the pink baby lotion your wife loved, giving him that clean baby smell; then placed his big brother t-shirt on him. Combing his little curls back, you had to admit he was a miniature you. “There ya go lil man, all clean for mommy.” You cleaned up the bathroom, before the two of you headed out to (Y/N).

Liam took off, the minute he saw his mom. “Mmmm, you smell so good peanut.” (Y/N) gathered the tiny tot into her arms, nuzzling the crook of his neck; causing him to laugh. She looked happier now.

“Babe do you want anything before I sit down?” You’d bring her the world if you could, that’s how much you loved this woman.

“Juice,” Liam shouted out.

“No, I’m good.” You grabbed a sippy cup and filled it with apple juice, then headed over to the couch. “What do you say to daddy?”

“Thank you.”

“Your welcome lil man.” Plopping down, you scooted your wife over so you could wrap your arms around her and caress her belly. As she leaned against you, you whispered in her ear. “I hope this one’s a little girl.”

She turned her face up towards you. “Really? You don’t want another boy?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I want a whole hockey team of little guys; but I need a little girl, exactly like her mommy.” She smiled widely at you. “She’ll have your beautiful smile, your charming personality and most of all your loving heart.” You kissed (Y/N) quick on the lips, then groaned. “Ugh,” she looked at you questioningly. “I just realized, if she’s just like you, I’m going to have to lock her in her room until she’s forty.” (Y/N) laughed and Liam joined in; not knowing what the two of you found so funny.

“Still want a girl?”

“Oh absolutely. Even if it means I have to be that dad that glares at every boy that looks in her direction. I want a little girl just like you to spoil rotten. She’ll be perfect, just like her mom.” She leaned up and kissed you passionately.

“My mommy.” Liam interjected, squirming between you two.

“She’s not just your mommy anymore bud.” You countered, placing a kiss on his little forehead.

“No, my mommy.” He said wrapping his little arms around (Y/N)’s neck.

“Looks like someone is a little bit jealous.” Your beautiful wife squeaked out, as Liam kissed her cheeks. “At least he’s got a few months to adjust, before he has to share completely.”

“Oh, he has to share you now,” you exclaimed, as you smothered both your wife and son with kisses; all three of you laughing. When the giggles finally calmed down, you looked at (Y/N). “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She breathed.

“I love too.” Liam joined in.

Stroking (Y/N)’s belly, you said; “I can’t wait to tell you I love you too little one.” Suddenly nothing else in the world mattered but the three lives you held in your arms.

#tyler seguin #tyler seguin imagine #tyler seguin imagines #dallas stars #dallas stars imagine #dallas stars imagines #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfic #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction

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insanityclause · 5 years

Link

“I’m a meat and two veg kinda fella,” says Kenneth Branagh. “I love my fish and chips, and my English breakfast, and I like my football and horse racing – my dad loved the horses.” His tastes, he admits, such as his signature dessert recipe for melted Mars bar over vanilla ice cream, were formed in his working-class childhood.

For the past four decades, this son of a joiner from Belfast has been living cheek by jowl with that other great scion of the lower classes – William Shakespeare. Ever since Branagh became a stage and film star playing Henry V in the Eighties, he’s been directing Shakespeare’s works, adapting them, playing many of his great characters. Now, at 58, he is assuming the bald pate, sharp nose and very pointed beard of the playwright himself, in the self-directed All Is True.

It’s an unexpectedly moving portrait. Branagh’s Will is entering his 50s, and retiring from London to Stratford-upon-Avon, where he had long owned a house, and where at 18, he had married Anne Hathaway, a 26-year-old already pregnant with their child. It’s 1613, the Globe Theatre has burned down, and the playwright is still grieving the death of his only son, Hamnet, many years earlier.

“For me, it was a sort of time travel,” says Branagh, whose enduring boyishness hides the fact that he is eight years older than the Shakespeare we meet in the film. (The playwright died in 1616, at the age of 52.) Branagh’s Shakespeare is stiff of bearing; Branagh isn’t. He’s playful while having his photograph taken in the London hotel where we meet, and his comfortable clothes – knitwear – mirror a softness in his tone and manner. It masks a seriousness that shows itself often when he speaks.

After all these years exploring Shakespeare’s work, does the think he has a feel for the man? “I have a sense of preoccupations that repeat themselves,” he says. “They came together when I played Leontes in The Winter’s Tale a couple of years ago, because it did feel like a play from a man at the end of his professional life, maybe in the evening of his life – there was such a longing in it for this lost child, such an ache for the reunification of a family, that it seemed to add up with all sorts of longings in the plays, even in the comedies.”

The grief for Hamnet in All Is True is so acute that, set against the way Will yearns for a male heir, and his complicated relationship with his daughters, Susanna and Judith (Hamnet’s twin), it makes you wonder whether Branagh has been contemplating his own mortality. Does he wish that he had had children?

“Didn’t happen,” he shrugs. “It doesn’t seem to me to be valuable to be wishing and hoping for things that don’t appear to have been on your dance card. I go with what we have. I start with, are you healthy, do you have some family, do you have some friends? Anything north of that’s terrific.”

Since 2003, Branagh has been married to art director Lindsay Brunnock. Before that, of course, he was married to Emma Thompson – a celebrity coupling that was so ubiquitous between 1989 and 1994 that they were referred to simply as “Ken and Em”. They acted in a series of Branagh’s films together, such as the history-repeats-itself thriller Dead Again (1991), the rather precious paean to privilege, Peter’s Friends (1992), and a very winning Much Ado About Nothing (1993), before the partnership ended with Branagh’s affair with Helena Bonham Carter. Does he think he and Thompson will ever work together again? “I don’t know,” he says. Would he like to? “She’s a terrific talent, so who knows?”

Branagh is clearly not keen to talk about his personal life, however much of it is already in the public arena. Yet so little is known of Shakespeare’s life that All Is True must make a series of guesses to fill the void. (The script is written by Ben Elton, who has already treated the subject as comedy in Upstart Crow.) But the element most likely to raise eyebrows is the casting of Judi Dench as Hathaway. Dench is 84. It’s very unusual to cast a woman 26 years older than her leading man, isn’t it? “Is she 26 years [older]?” says Branagh, surprised. “Really?” I nod – does he think audiences will balk at that?

“I don’t think so. I was aware that for the past 100 years of cinema that age gap has usually been the other way round. If it felt it was going to kill the story, I would have been terrified; for some maybe it will, but for me, not at all. She’s unique and to have that chance with one of the greatest living actors, the age thing didn’t come into it.”

Is it an example of “age-blind casting”? “Yeah, I guess so. She was the right person for the role.” The film seems to suggest that Hathaway and Shakespeare reunite sexually, too. I wonder if, as a director, he considered having a physical scene between them? “No, it didn’t seem appropriate for this. I wouldn’t have balked at it if it had seemed right, very much not.”

He also shares a seven-minute scene with Ian McKellen, who plays the Earl of Southampton, to whom Shakespeare famously dedicated two poems. It evolves into a duel between heavyweight Shakespeareans when both recite Sonnet 29 (“When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes”). “I practised for that scene as I’ve never practised before,” Branagh admits, explaining that he went to see McKellen perform as Lear last year, and rehearsed with him backstage. “I found that pretty intimidating… You’ve got to be up pretty early in the morning to keep up with Dench, but with him…”

It’s one of the pivotal moments of the film, which clearly suggests that the Bard was in love with a man. Is that an unavoidable conclusion from the Sonnets, four-fifths of which are addressed to a “fair youth”? “I think it’s certainly unavoidable not to consider it very strongly,” Branagh says. Is there room for doubt that Shakespeare preferred men? He laughs. He’s weighing his words carefully. “I think it’s a strong possibility.”

Branagh does this a lot, studiedly avoiding sound-bites. Asked if he believes Shakespeare was indeed the author of the plays, he decides: “The other theories are brilliant speculations, but there has been no winning piece of evidence. In the current state of knowledge, I would follow the man from Stratford.”

Branagh’s family moved from Belfast to Reading to escape the Troubles when he was nine. As a boy from the sticks, who arrived at Rada in the late Seventies, then went on to act, direct and try his hand as a playwright, had he wanted to actually be Shakespeare?

It’s impossible to imagine it, he says. He just felt “so at home and happy telling stories in the theatre to a live audience, the itinerant nature of it. Those that were ahead of me – whether it was Shakespeare or actors of the past or directors – I was inspired by them.”

Branagh’s career began in a blaze of glory. But while his stage reputation continued to grow, in film at least there was a mid-period lull. His Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein (1995) was panned; his run of big-screen Shakespeare adaptations stuttered with the widely derided song-and-dance version of Love’s Labour’s Lost (2000), and even when he returned with a striking As You Like It (2006) set in 19th-century Japan, around the same time as The Magic Flute (2006) and Sleuth (2007), all three “received a pretty rough time”, he says. Yet he’s sanguine about criticism. “Sometimes people don’t like ’em. It’s as simple as that. I put the same feeling into all of them.”

He has always had a phenomenal approach to work that seems to border on mania. Since he was 29, he has been using meditation to ensure that he doesn’t yo-yo between frantic activity – “I wouldn’t characterise it as manic, but I would say, yes, extremely hectic at times” – and its corresponding depressive state.

“I knew I had to work quite hard at all those things that would try to allow you some peace amid the noise and haste. I like to read about spiritual matters and I’ve developed the meditation since then to try to find the way to turn down the noise. When the engine’s revving really high, I think you have to be careful.”

A decade ago, Branagh made the decision to leave the West End production of Hamlet he had been about to direct, starring Jude Law, to take up the reins of Thor (2011) for Marvel. It was a change of direction that opened the door to a new phase in his career, as a director of blockbuster movies. He won’t accept the charge that comic-book films have killed grown-up cinema – “Well I’ve just made a grown-up film, I’d say” – and mounts a strong defence.

“In the best hands you get stories that involve spectacle and, in some cases, depth or wit or creative imagination that allows for a really cinematic experience, they provide stories that make you want to go to the pictures. They ain’t killing grown-up movies.”

His hit 2015 Cinderella, starring Lily James and Richard Madden, will be followed this summer by a lavish Disney adaptation of Artemis Fowl, Eoin Colfer’s 2001 novel about a boy genius who discovers the fairy world beneath our feet. Blockbusters bring their own set of pressures. Does he fear that if Artemis Fowl bombs, that avenue closes? “No, it doesn’t feel that way, although perhaps it is that way,” Branagh says. “I think if it felt like that it would be quite hard to do the work, but I’ve certainly been in situations where if a movie doesn’t work you’re really aware of the cold winds that blow around you for a while. It’s a commercial business and these are big investments.”

What would he do if an invitation to take on the Bond franchise came his way? “I have absolutely no idea,” he says. “I have Artemis Fowl to finish and I hope we get to make Death on the Nile [the second of his Agatha Christie adaptations, after Murder on the Orient Express, in which he stars as Poirot] towards the end of the year. Ask me the Bond question a picture or so from now.” He leans back.

“I should be so lucky.”

There will be a preview screening of 'All is True' followed by a Q&A with Kenneth Branagh at VUE cinema in Leicester Square on Wednesday 6th February, from 6.30pm.

Tickets are £20 for non-subscribers and £10 for subscribers.

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miss-lumiere · 6 years

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Hidden Affection - Chapter Four

Sherlock x reader x Moriarty Synopsis: Sherlock’s and John’s lives are about to drastically change, when John’s younger sister he hasn’t seen in years, appears at their doorstep. After living with the two for a while, Sherlock grows fond of the younger, intelligent woman. He feels connected to her like he never did before with another human being. But will the attention of a certain criminal mastermind get in the way? Wordcount: 3.3k A/N: Hey guys, miss me? ;) I’m finally back with a new chapter! Please let me know if you liked it :) Masterlist Chapter Three

The Circle Closes “So what did I miss?”, you questioned as we had stepped into a cab and took off. The three of you did – surprisingly – fit into the back of the cab. Nevertheless, being so close to Sherlock was somewhat unnerving. It was not that you were not comfortable around him, but he had become someone you admired and looked up to and you had never really been this close before. The words Jim had said back at the hospital came back to your mind. Sherlock and you didn’t see each other that way. It was true that you had a connection, but it was ridiculous to assume that it was anything more than platonic. You looked up to him as you would to a mentor or idol, you admired his intellect and mind and wanted to learn from him. Sure, you thought he was attractive, even though he didn’t fit the traditional definition yet there was something about him. Nevertheless, he didn’t affect you in that way, did he? “Nineteen eighty-nine, a young kid – champion swimmer – came up from Brighton for a school sports tournament, drowned in the pool. Tragic accident.”, Sherlock started, seemingly unfazed by the closeness. The tall man, sitting between you and your brother, showed you a picture on his phone. The screen showed an old newspaper article. “You wouldn’t remember it. Why would you?”, the Detective stated glancing at us briefly before returning to look out the window. “But you remember.” “Yes.” “So, there was something off about it, wasn’t there?”, you asked, having a feeling where this conversation was headed and it ran a shiver down your spine. Your life had changed drastically ever since you had decided to live with the two men. It was exciting and refreshing compared to your old life that had become dull and depressing. Yet being dragged into this world with Sherlock Holmes meant there was no going back. You were associated with him and therefore potentially in danger. And to say you were scared was an understatement. This world was filled with people who would surely not hesitate to hurt you and you didn’t know how to fight back yet. “Nobody thought so – nobody except me. I was only a kid myself. I read about it in the papers.” “So, this kid was the Carl Powers you mentioned earlier?”, you asked a little confused having missed a lot of what John and Sherlock must have discussed in the lab. “Yes, the boy had some kind of fit in the water, but by the time they got him out it was too late.”, Sherlock elaborated. “But there was something wrong; something I couldn’t get out of my head.”, he continued with a frown. “Always the mind of a Detective, I suppose.”, you stated with a faint smile. “What was it?”, John chimed in. “The shoes! The shoes left at the apartment! They were his, weren’t they?!”, you burst out with your eyes wide open. “Yes, I think so. Everything fits. The shoes weren’t there. I made a fuss; I tried to get the police interested, but nobody seemed to think it was important. He’d left all the rest of his clothes in his locker, but there was no sign of his shoes…”, your friend continued, picking up the bag containing the trainers, examining them absentmindedly. “…until now.” Sherlock pulled out the pink phone just to stare at it thoughtfully.

Leaning on the corner of the kitchen of 221b, you absentmindedly watched Sherlock who was now seated at the ‘dining table’. To be fair, it had probably never been used as such but more for Sherlock’s experiments. Having reached your destination, 221b, Sherlock had immediately moved to the kitchen, where he started studying old cut-out newspaper articles of Carl Power’s death that he had collected in the past. The bag with the trainers had also been placed on the kitchen table. You had stood there, watching Sherlock for a while trying to figure the case out by yourself but had drifted off after a while. Your thoughts were still occupied by the man from the hospital, Jim. His act had confused you immensely and goose bumps still formed on your arms when you thought back to the confrontation. He had managed to scare you just with the dark look in his eyes, just by the unnerving smiles that hadn’t reached his eyes. He was dangerous, you were sure, but still you couldn’t get him out of your head. You wouldn’t admit it, but he had something mysterious about him that drew you closer. You shivered as John, who had been pacing in the living room, raised his voice and ripped you out of your thoughts. “Can I help?”, he questioned with a frustrated sigh, but didn’t get an answer. “I want to help. There’s only five hours left.” Just in that moment his phone made a sound, informing us that he had gotten a text message. Your brother took the phone out of his trouser pocket before opening and reading it. “It’s your brother. He’s texting me now.”, he mentioned to Sherlock with a frown. “How does he know my number.” “Oh please, John, you can’t seriously believe Mycroft doesn’t have access to any information he wanted.”, you mocked, rolling your eyes at his naivety. Great, maybe you had actually agreed to live with not only one child but two. “Must be a root canal.”, Sherlock mumbled not looking up from his work. John put his phone back in his pocket and walked a few steps further into the kitchen. “Look, he did say ‘national importance’.”, John attempted at persuading Sherlock again. “Oh, come on, Sherlock, swallow your pride and help him out with this one.”, you joined in, being fed up by Sherlock’s childish behaviour. “How quaint.”, your roommate retorted snorting. “What is?”, the other one asked irritated. “You are. Queen and Country.” “Woah, Sherlock. We’re living in this country, too. It’s not about patriotism, this threatens every citizen including you, Mr.”, you voiced slightly annoyed by his stubbornness. Sherlock simply rolled his eyes before sighing dramatically. “You can’t just ignore it.”, your brother responded obviously out of being tired of finding new arguments that wouldn't sway Sherlock either way. “I’m not ignoring it. Putting my best people onto it right now.”, Sherlock elaborated, making you pinch the bridge of your nose in exasperation. “Right. Good.”, your naïve brother stated, while folding his arms and nodding satisfied. “Who’s that?”

It turned out working on a case alone with John was somewhat exciting but you felt a little insecure without Sherlock. He was usually the one to say what to do and what to look for. Yet the meeting with Mycroft the two of you were sent to turned out somewhat alright. Sherlock had been left behind to work on the bomber’s case so either way there was nothing the two of you could contribute. Sitting in a cab that would take you back to the flat, John suddenly raised his voice. The two of you had been lost in your own thoughts and had watched the other cars passing by through the windows of the cab. “So…Sherlock told me there was something else.”, he started hesitantly, turning in your direction at which you gave him a puzzled look. “The real reason why you came here.” “I…”, you trailed off with a frown, a little caught off guard. “He’s right. I wanted to tell you I just….I didn’t know how.” Looking at your feet ashamedly you opened your mouth as if to say something but nothing came out. “(Y/N)?”, John dug deeper with a worried expression. “You know you can tell me anything. What happened?” With a sigh you turned away for a second to look outside the window before gulping. You knew this conversation was going to happen sooner or later, but you were still afraid of his response. You couldn’t risk losing John right now, he was everything you had. “Harry…It’s Harry, John.”, you began timidly chewing on your thumbnail. “It all happened again…I just couldn’t stand it anymore.” “What?”, John asked perplexed before his confusion was replaced by anger. “How could you not tell me?! She’s also my sister!”“I’m so sorry, John. I just couldn’t do it anymore and I was too ashamed to tell you. I wanted to be strong, I really wanted to.”, you pleaded in a desperate tone before tears started flowing down your face. John moved immediately to your side, taking your hands in his bigger ones. “Hey…Please don’t cry. What’s happened?”Smiling weakly, John brushed a tear softly from your cheek which made you smile in return. You dried your eyes with the back of your hand and took a deep breath. “S-She’s gotten worse after the divorce, I tried to help, but nothing I did would.”, you elaborated with a shaking voice. “She started drinking again and it all went down… She’s hit a new low, John.”“Shit. Is she being taken care of?”, he asked worriedly, followed by you nodding. “She is in rehab”, you said which made John sigh in relief. “I wanted to be strong for her, but I just couldn’t, it broke me seeing Harry like that. I had to get away, to start anew. I was not strong enough and it almost destroyed me, so I packed my things and came here. It took a toll on me, I just couldn’t stay there, I’m so sorry”“No need to apologize. I’ve been there too. There is only so much we can do, but we must take care of ourselves too. It’s hard not to break when someone close to you gets this destructive. It was the right decision to get some distance.”, he assured you pulling you into a hug.“I know, do you think it will get better?” “I do. But right now you need to focus on your own health, maybe when you’re better we could visit her. You’re stronger than you think and you have the chance to build a new life for yourself here, plus I will be there beside you. And Sherlock.”Despite the tears you couldn’t help but smile at the thought of the man you had grown so fond of. “Thank you, John.”, you said softly, smiling at him appreciatively. “Everything for you, (Y/N).”

Entering the flat, you could hear excited shouting coming from the kitchen. Probably Sherlock who had found something. Exchanging a confused yet curious look with your brother, you sprinted into the kitchen where you encountered Mrs Hudson, who was on her way downstairs. Sherlock was now standing next to his microscope with a thrilled expression on his face. “Oh, so it was murder after all!”, you concluded with a chuckle at Sherlock’s state as John had reached the kitchen. “Oh yes, and a fascinating one at that.”, the dark-haired man exclaimed with a grin. “Clostridum Botulinum.” Some would be weirded out by his excitement but you had gotten so used to his inappropriate behaviour that you had started to be more amused than frustrated. “Remember the shoelaces?”, Sherlock inquired while moving to said objects that he had hung up on a clothing line. “Mhm.”, the smaller man next to you responded while you nodded instead. “The boy suffered from eczema. It’d be the easiest thing in the world to introduce the poison into his medication. Two hours later he comes up to London, the poison takes effect, paralyses the muscles and he drowns.” “What – how-how come the autopsy didn’t pick that up?” “The bacterium on itself is not so easily distinguishable from other bacteria stems that don’t produce botulinum-toxins, right Sherlock?”, you explained, having learned a few things in your toxicology classes. “Yes, that’s right, it’s virtually undetectable. Nobody would have been looking for it.”, the chemist affirmed, before walking around the desk to his laptop. He opened the forum of his website and started typing in what he had just found out. After a moment he stopped to point towards shoelaces which were still in their previous place, before turning back to his laptop. “But there were still tiny traces of it left inside the trainers from where he put the cream on his feet.”, he elaborated before stepping away from the desk. “That’s why they had to go.”, Sherlock concluded. “So how do we let the bomber know?” “Get his attention…”, the tall man said looking at his watch anxiously, as if expecting something to happen. And you knew what that would be. The bomber would call again to leave yet another case to be solved while a human life was at stake. “…Stop the clock.” “The killer kept the shoes all these years.” “Yes.”, the Detective confirmed, looking between the two of us expectantly. “Meaning…” “…The shoes have a meaning to him. This is not just some case, the bomber has an emotional connection to it…”, you carried on before John finished the sentence. “…He’s our bomber.” Before you could process what that meant, the pink phone on the small table rang ominously indicating that it was time for another piece of the puzzle. While John and you exchanged worried looks, your other roommate hurried over to the table and picked the phone up before answering it. “Well done, you. Come and get me.”, a sobbing woman voiced. “Where are you? Tell us where you are?”

The next morning, the three of you had been ordered to meet Lestrade at New Scotland Yard. Sherlock was now silently standing at the window of Lestrade’s office that was facing the main office. If the anxious tapping of his fingers and the silence were anything to go by, Sherlock was sure that it wasn’t over yet. John and Lestrade were seated at the latter’s desk, while you were leaning against a wall so you could see all three men. “She lives in Cornwall.”, Lestrade broke the silence, making Sherlock turn around and walk towards the three of you. “Two men broke in wearing masks, forced her to drive to the car park and decked her out in enough explosives to take down a house.” “Told her to phone you. She had to read out from this pager.”, he continued as he put said pager on the desk for everyone to look at. John picked it up cautiously before beginning to examine it. “And if she deviated by one word, the sniper would set her off.”, the dark-haired man exclaimed thoughtfully, speaking for the first time. You gulped. How could someone care so little about a human life to play with it so casually? This man was a predator. A full-blown psychopath. “Or if you hadn’t solved the case.”, John spoke. “It’s like he understands what drives you and uses that to manipulate you into playing his game.”, you mumbled thoughtfully. Meanwhile, Sherlock moved back to his place in front of the window. “Oh. Elegant.” “’Elegant’?”, John repeated in disbelief before sighing out of aggravation. “But what was the point? Why would anyone do this?”, Lestrade asked clueless. “Oh – I can’t be the only person in the world that gets bored.” “Wow. I honestly can’t think of a reason why people would confuse you with a psychopath…”, you retorted dryly. But not without receiving an unamused glare from Sherlock. In that exact moment the pink phone beeped. Sherlock unlocked the phone while John and you shared worried glances before turning in his direction. “You have one new message.”, the phone’s artificial voice announced. Sherlock walked towards the three of you who listened closely for the message that would follow. Three short and one long pip rang in the silence, this time one less than before. “Four Pips.”, your brother stated. “First test passed, it would seem. Here’s the second.”, Sherlock concluded, as the rest of you watched expectantly. “Another picture?”, you chimed in stepping closer. Sherlock turned the phone in your direction, so the three of you could view it as well. It wasn’t a photograph of a room this time but that of a car. The car’s doors were wide open and the frontal number plate was visible. Just as Lestrade and John had moved closer to inspect the picture further, a phone in the main office rang. “It’s abandoned, wouldn’t you say?”, the black-haired man asked for confirmation. “I’ll see if it’s been reported.”, the Detective Inspector replied before picking up his land-line phone. Before he could answer the phone, Sergeant Donovan, the obnoxious woman from last time entered the room holding a phone. You had immediately disliked her as soon as you saw how she had looked at Sherlock and it had filled you with anger. Sure, he wasn’t the easiest person to be around and tended to be very insensitive at times, but the people treating him like that simply worsened the situation. He was never going to stop being arrogant or much less respect them like that. They didn’t see what was underneath that façade and you couldn’t imagine just how hard being in school must’ve been for him. “Freak, it’s for you.”, she spat in Sherlock’s direction, but didn’t get a response from Sherlock. Instead, the man walked to her taking the phone before answering it. “Hello?”, you could hear Sherlock speak into the phone. While he walked past Donovan into the general office, you managed to throw her a dirty look which she returned. You followed him but stopped at the door frame giving him room to concentrate while on the phone with who was presumably the bomber, but close enough to listen to the conversation. At least the part of what the Consulting Detective said. “Hello?” “Who is this? Is this you again?” Sherlock’s expression turned dead-serious, resulting in a change of attitude in you as well. You crossed your arms protectively and a shudder ran down your spine. Where was this going to lead to? The bomber was always way ahead of you and everything was planned meticulously. He was a professional. Sure, Sherlock was brilliant and the best at what he was doing, but was this enough to stop him? This man was something else, a puppeteer that had made you his puppets. You turned around looking at John who was still seated at the desk but whose posture was now tenser than before. Noticing your gaze, your brother got up walking towards you and only now did you notice his concern. “I have a bad feeling about this.”, you whispered, trying to conceal the fear in your voice as John came to a halt next to you. “Everything will be alright, you’ll see.”, John replied with a softer undertone. “This is only your first case with Sherlock and I’ve been around for a while longer. Don’t doubt him.” “I don’t, it’s just…the truth is I’m a little afraid, John. This is serious.”, you added a little ashamed about the confession. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Neither would Sherlock.” Just one look at the Consulting Detective made you pick up courage again. They would protect you and you would return the favour. If not for yourself, you had to be brave for them and would do anything to prove your worth. Sherlock had already exclaimed his high hopes for you and you were not going to let him down. “You know, it’s not only fear that I feel, I enjoy it.”, you added absentmindedly. “Being on a case with Sherlock is thrilling. I haven’t felt this alive in a while.” “I know what you mean.” You had always suspected that John was chasing the thrill, maybe that had even been a reason why he joined the army. He despised the mundane and meaningless just as much as you did, which was probably why the two of you enjoyed living with Sherlock so much. Lestrade’s voice ripped you out of your thoughts as he moved past you towards Sherlock. “We’ve found it.”, he confirmed looking between the two of you and Sherlock. “Let’s go, then. We have eight hours.”, Sherlock proclaimed in a confident tone. As your eyes met you received one of his rare smiles that you had learned to cherish, before he turned back around heading for the exit. To be continued... Tags:

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