#She's not getting the oxygen she used to so her brains running on fumes

[oculusxcaro]

Due to her DNA being modified, Khare can hold her breath for a long time. She hasn't tested to see exactly how long she can hold it for but so far she's managed one hour without any strain, which helped her elude her captors after escaping the facility she was held in.

#🌈 || headcanons #🌈 || musings #Her heartbeat is also very slow #Just a handful of beats a minute if working actively #This is the main reason why she's 'slow' #She's not getting the oxygen she used to so her brains running on fumes #You can't exactly turn a mammal into something it's not #She still needs to breathe ofc but right now she can hold that breath for a good while #Even go into torpor #Also the reason why she's incredibly cold to the touch sometimes #It's okay working indoorts when the heating is on otherwise she feels like a corpse

[taechaos]

Web of Lies

from Textbook Love drabble series

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: drabble, smut, college au

synopsis: Soyeon is honest, Taehyung is using his last breaths to tell you the truth, and Jungkook is lying. It seems that everything you know boils down to Jungkook lying.

warnings: angst, panic attack, dry humping, the TINIEST bit of fluff

word count: 4.3k

Obstacles are inevitable in relationships; there’s always something that must go wrong. They can come in the form of arguments, disagreements, actions, or people like Taehyung. One physical obstacle that always knows when Jungkook is with you.

A few days after the fight between the two close friends, Taehyung’s nose somewhat healed and Jungkook doesn’t shy away from you as frequently. What’s the point when the people he tried to hide you from found out about his relationship with you anyway? The only reason he doesn’t approach you every time he sees you is because: 1. He doesn’t enjoy being clingy; that would mean he likes being around you all the time which he refuses to admit. 2. You would probably get tired of him and stop loving him. 3. He kissed your friend who always sits next to you outside.

Now that he’s taking most of his opportunities to talk to you, and maybe kiss you, Taehyung is growing restless. Every time Jungkook is with you, so is Taehyung. Some. Fucking. How.

To name one of the busts: when Jungkook was kissing you in the university’s hallway two days ago, Taehyung popped in out of nowhere and shouted, “Get a room, you sluts!” It made for a good laugh between the students, especially when Jungkook ran after him out of the building. 

Another time is when Jungkook was watching you work in the yard and Taehyung joined you two to ask about that “one hot friend of yours”. You ended up telling him about Soyeon and Minnie while Jungkook glared at Taehyung that conveyed a clear message: Don’t. So, he didn’t. It didn’t have anything to do with getting elbowed when you weren’t looking.

It was because that would ruin the fun, and he has a sense of purpose while roaming the entire campus to make his fourth bust of the week. He’s searched the hot and empty spots, but he just can’t find the passionate couple anywhere. If he can’t keep disrupting their displays of affection, how will Jungkook get annoyed enough to spill the truth to you? You deserve that much, and if you still accept him, then Taehyung’s out of the picture.

Why can’t Jungkook see that?

For starters, one of the reasons is Jungkook is distracted and growing very irritated by the heavy stare he feels digging into his skin. Who the fuck is watching him? He thought it would be nice to keep you company in the main campus library by controlling your hand under the table over his clothed erection while you skim through your textbook for a light revision, but a pair of eyes behind a bookshelf won’t stop glaring into his soul through thick frames that he can’t see. 

He blows out a breath and screws his eyes shut. His jaw clenches and you immediately catch on, worriedly asking, “What’s wrong?”

“Someone’s fucking watching me and I can’t get off,” he grits. Your cheeks heat and grow crimson when you glance down at your occupied hand, palmed by his bigger one in a tight grip. 

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, “we can go to my dorm, if you’d like? Whatever you want.” In an act of comfort, you stupidly start caressing his length until he stands up. 

“Gotta confront the fucker.” 

Right when he raises his foot to take a step in the direction that his senses lead him to, Taehyung joins in on the mission. “Who are we confronting?” he asks casually with an arm over Soyeon’s shoulder, who is trying to suppress a grimace at the intervention. Jungkook glances at him and then your friend before sucking his teeth and rolling his eyes.

You grin brightly at the greeting and explain, “Someone's watching him. He’s going to find the stalker.”

“Might’ve been me, oops,” Taehyung raises his brows guiltily before slumping on a wooden chair adjacent to you, looking around the spacious area that makes him feel too loud. When he notices Soyeon still standing, he tells her, “come, sit,” and pats the seat next to him. She does so timidly. “Isn’t it so wonderful—”

“Why are you here?” Jungkook interrupts, but Taehyung continues, “—that we’re forming a friend group of our own? We’re all so familiar with each other.”

“Oh, Soyeon hasn’t met Jungkook yet.”

Taehyung narrows his eyes at you with a scrunch of his nose. “Sure about that?” Jungkook strides behind his chair and starts massaging his shoulders; a very harsh massage that has him holding back a wince. “Oh, Kook, that’s a bit rough. Tell me, is he like this in bed too?”

You gape at him in surprise, bashful because your lover doesn’t kiss and tell, and he doesn’t look too happy about it either.

“Tae…” Jungkook snarls.

“Well, is he, Soyeon?”

The library’s silence graces your table as everyone falls quiet, if you don’t count Taehyung’s groans at Jungkook’s bruising hold that is. Soyeon’s jaw drops and her eyes widen at the sudden switch in your gaze, searching for answers from her. “That’s not funny, Taehyung,” she breaks the silence with her blunt statement.

“Don’t mind him, baby, he has brain damage,” Jungkook spits and brings a hand up to Taehyung’s hair to yank it back. “I’m going to fucking kill you,” he whispers in his ear.

Your features begin to soften from its hard expression until Taehyung smiles wickedly at you. “Oh yeah, it wasn’t sex, was it? It was a tongue battle-” His voice cuts off the moment Jungkook starts choking him with his elbow, and his gags fall on deaf ears. Soyeon tries to push him off, but you’re just blank because Jungkook isn’t denying it; it was as if he was expecting it, trying to stop him all along. 

The sudden interest in your friend, the constant interruptions, the hits…

“Soyeon?” you call quietly with welling up tears. “Did you kiss him?”

Your best friend doesn’t lie, and apparently neither does Taehyung. Does Jungkook lie? You’re conflicted between living in bliss, ignoring the dying man in front of you because your boyfriend might have kissed Soyeon, and facing reality by asking the hard questions.

Her hands are still tugging on his shirt to save Taehyung, but her persistence weakens when she looks at you: guilty and… exposed? “I didn’t know it was him,” she confesses. It is indirect, and doesn’t reveal much except that she kissed the one man she wasn’t supposed to. 

“When?”

“The party,” Taehyung wheezes as he struggles against Jungkook’s arm, his nails drawing blood on his skin. His face is red from the lack of oxygen but he isn’t worried about dying.

“Oh, he put you up to this, didn’t he?” Jungkook speaks through clenched teeth to Soyeon. “They’re setting me up, and who the fuck is watching me?!” 

You stand up slowly and close your textbook with a soft thud, packing your materials so graciously. Your hands are shaking, but the tears blurring your vision don’t matter to you. Soyeon is honest, Taehyung is using his last breaths to tell you the truth, and Jungkook is lying. You sling your bag over your shoulder and trudge to the exit, counting your steps to calm down. You ignore Jungkook asking you where you’re going, Taehyung gasping for breath, and Soyeon telling him to leave you alone. It’s all muffled and you’re too sad to care.

It’s a case of he said she said, but your heart is siding with your friends with how painfully it pounds against your chest. Your trust in Jungkook couldn’t have been that fragile, could it? Why did it break with one sentence? 

Heavy footfalls follow you beyond the exit, but you’re too distracted by trying to move your legs steadily to notice. It isn’t important enough to distract you from someone calling your name though, or the light weight of a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Hm?” you say without looking up, frozen in your steps.

“A-Are you okay?” A smooth voice asks.

“I’m a bit sad,” your voice cracks and wavers from holding back a meltdown, “hurt.” You want to recognize the blurred image of the man standing next to you, so you blink and a tear sheds from each eye. “I told you to never talk to me again, Jimin.” You feel overwhelmed, and yet the memory of the blackmail has little impact on your mess of emotions, but it doesn't help you feel better either.

“Sorry,” he breathes, “I still don’t understand why, but you can do the talking for me. Wh-what happened?”

“Why do you ask? So you can use that against me too?” you scoff through the lump in your throat. Confusion washes his soft features, so you add, “maybe another handjob for it?” You shrug off his hand and continue your walk of shame. 

“I-I’ve never used anything against you, what are you talking about?” He’s chasing after you and it’s a bit of help in swaying your thoughts in a different direction, and your emotions towards anger and disbelief instead.

“Does a video ring a bell? The one you threatened to leak if I didn’t touch your…” You groan to yourself and quicken your pace towards your dorm. Maybe you could mope comfortably in there without the annoying presence of an arch enemy, who is feeding you more lies than you’re capable of consuming in one day. 

“What? I never— Listen, I deleted that video the second I received it. Whoever told you that was lying, please!”

It seems that everything you know boils down to Jungkook lying. His love was a lie too, apparently. Maybe the Jungkook you know is just one big fat lie who can’t seem to tell you the truth in any moment you’ve been with him. How many times do you need to hear from others and yourself that Jungkook is lying?

“I know,” you whimper and run off.

Once Taehyung catches his breath after coughing for a minute straight with a fresh bruise blossoming on his neck, he interrupts the hushed argument between Jungkook and Soyeon by asking, “Where’d she go?”

“I don’t know, but you’re going straight to hell once I fucking kill you for good,” Jungkook fumes with flushed cheeks. 

“If you die by murder, you go straight to Heaven. How do you not know this?” His voice is low from the assault and his throat aches, but he still attempts to lighten the mood. 

“I swear to fucking God, Taehyung—” Jungkook stops his threat when he sees Soyeon sneakily walking away. “Where the fuck are you going?”

“Air,” Soyeon vaguely answers.

“Bullshit.” Jungkook tries to go after her, wanting to be the first to find your dorm so she doesn't say more about that night, but Taehyung holds onto his wrist to stop him. 

“She needs time—”

“Fuck off.”

When Jungkook begins to walk off after yanking off his hand, Taehyung immediately searches around the room and takes out a pen from a cup on the reception desk before jumping Jungkook from behind just as he was about to leave. They struggle against each other and start rolling around, but Taehyung is driven by adrenaline as he grounds himself on top of him. He holds him down with his legs and uncaps the pen to start writing on his forehead.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Everyone in the library peeks at the commotion due to Jungkook’s loud yell, but neither of them pay mind as he tries to move away from the pen.

“See if she takes you seriously with dick written on your forehead,” Taehyung chuckles before sprinting off with him hot on his tail. Jungkook is stronger, but Taehyung is much faster as he loses him pretty quickly by hiding in an occupied lecture hall. The professor looks at him questioningly but he thinks fast and breathlessly asks the students, “Is Jeon Jungkook here? The headmaster is looking for him.” Some people search for him, but when no one makes a peep, he escapes the room and Jungkook’s wrath.

Now to go to your dorm before Jungkook scrubs off the ink…

“I didn’t know his name,” Soyeon murmurs while fidgeting with her fingers. When she came in the room, you were muffling your sobs with your pillow and all she saw was your jerking shoulders. She tried to comfort you, to hug you, but you weren’t exactly being friendly, and the setting is pretty much the same except she’s sitting on your bed while you still cry. “I asked people what he looked like, but it was just a description of every guy in the room. He wasn’t around for them to point at, and so I thought maybe he didn’t come. Then this guy kisses me on this couch, feels guilty about it, and tells me his name. I-I didn’t know it was Jungkook. He left for you anyway…”

Her attempt at consolation is fruitless because it only makes you cry harder. She rubs your back soothingly before standing up. “I’ll check up on you later. Let me know if you need anything, okay?” You nod against your stained pillow. 

The moment she opens the door, Taehyung’s fist misses her head by an inch. “Oops,” he says before gently pushing her aside by her shoulder and entering. His eyes fall on your fetal position first thing and he pouts at you. “Aw, baby—”

“She doesn’t want to talk right now.”

“I’m good company,” he dismisses her with a flick of his wrist, “you can go.”

She rolls her eyes before shutting the door, and it’s only you and him now. Your hiccups fill the room as he sadly watches you, a quiet sigh leaving his mouth. “I tried to tell you. Well, I tried to get him to tell you.”

“Y-You said,” you snivel against the sheet, “th-that he was whipped for me.”

I said that to get you to open up. Even in his head it sounds cruel, so he rethinks his response with a grimace. “Jungkook told me he liked you.” Maybe shifting the blame wasn’t exactly much better, especially since he told him that after the claim, but you have enough on your plate.

“H-He told me he loved me,” you hiccup, releasing your death grip on the poor pillow. It’s a mask rather than a silencer now. Taehyung widens his eyes to himself and purses his lips. He takes Soyeon’s former seat and turns you on your back. His heart sinks a little when he sees your face: red nose, heavy lids, bloodshot eyes and quivering lips with messy hair. You look really pretty to him right now. “He lies so much. H-He even made me give Jimin a handjob.”

“Made you?” he repeats with his thumb drawing circular patterns on your collarbone. 

You nod. “It’s a long story, and I don’t want to talk about it. It was horrible.”

His brows furrow at your tone. “That’s so fucked up... Man, you need to avoid him.”

“Jimin?”

“Jungkook. That’s too twisted, even for him. You’re an angel…” his palm reaches for your cheek and his thumb continues its soothing motions. “You didn’t deserve it.”

“Thank you,” you mouth and fresh tears brim as you try to swallow. It feels like you’re sick all over again, except there’s no misunderstanding to clear this time. He wipes a stray teardrop and smiles down at you; it’s a relaxing gesture. You close your eyes and hold onto his wrist, snuggling into his warm hand.

“I sound really cheesy, don’t I?” he chuckles. “Can’t lie, wish I had someone call me an angel after I caught my ex cheating on me.”

An involuntary giggle erupts from your mouth at his joke. “You’re an angel, Taehyung. An angel in disguise.” You peek at him before fluttering your eyes shut again. A pursed smile graces his lips, and he’s convinced he isn’t interested in you romantically, that it was just an invisible force drawing him closer to you, that he wasn’t the one aiming for your lips until a pound on the door resounds in the room.

You flinch away from his hand and he pulls back instantly; both of your heads shoot to the source of the noise. 

“Open up!” Jungkook yells and continues fisting the door. “Open the fucking door!” Taehyung holds a finger against his lips, signalling you to stay silent until he leaves. “I want to talk. Open the door… please.” Neither of you say anything.

“Fine,” he agrees, “don’t talk. I’ll talk, but at least give me a sign that you’re here.” Before Taehyung can stop you, you rush to the door and knock once. You hear him slide down the door, presumably leaning his back against it and sitting on the floor. “Okay. I’m sor— They were lying—” you slam your fist against the door in denial. “Okay! But they weren’t telling the whole truth back there. I was um… on drugs. I was really fucking high, okay?”

“Yet your high-self still managed to yell at me! Clearly you weren’t high out of your mind,” you snap menacingly. He flinches at your sudden shut-down; he’s never heard you yell at him before, nor has he ever been the victim of your anger. It makes his heart drop.

“That was like, three hours after I got high! I was practically sober, plus, you weren’t talking to me that day!”

“I had lost my voice! I didn’t want you to get sick—"

“I DIDN’T FUCKING KNOW THAT!” 

He gulps at your silence and inhales a deep breath to calm down. He hears you sniffle on the other side. “I-I didn’t know that. You wouldn’t kiss me, wouldn’t talk to me, and I didn’t know why. I thought you stopped loving me and… that really upset me.” He sighs to himself because he’s never opened up so honestly and it’s difficult, but he doesn’t exactly have a choice. It just feels so embarrassing.

Taehyung opens the window of your dorm and climbs out. You don’t see or hear it happen, too invested in your argument to even remember his existence. “Do you remember what I told you the night we did it for the first time?”

His face scrunches as he tries to replay the events beside the sex. The corner of his lip tugs upwards when he recalls you calling him a slut, but he’s still clueless as to why you’re bringing it up. You don’t leave him in the dark for long. “I told you I wouldn’t forgive you a second time.” He gnaws on his lip as his palms feel clammy with nervous sweat. 

“W-We weren’t dating then,” he tries to justify. “I didn’t need forgiveness then. You’re so unfair!” He stands up and knocks with his fist again. “Let’s talk it out face to face, I’ll explain everything. You’re putting me at a disadvantage! Don’t you want clarity? Don’t you want this to work out?!” He starts chanting your name when you don’t answer. “I will break down this fucking door if you don’t open it,” he doesn’t sound nearly as intimidating as he usually does when threatening; he sounds more like he’s a second away from breaking down himself. “No, no… please. I-I’ll kiss another girl if you break up with me! You don’t want that, right? So just open the door.” 

His tough façade crumbles the longer you ignore him, and he can’t believe the heavy weight he feels all over his body wants to leave in the form of tears. It stings in his eyes but he doesn’t dare let them fall. “You’re so fucking cruel!” He twists the door handle violently; desperately. A dry sob escapes him as he kicks the door one last time. “Oh God, oh God…” he tries to breathe but it doesn’t enter his lungs. It’s like being choked with a noose as he gasps and a tear runs down his cheek. His wheezes become so loud that you start hearing them and grow concerned.

You consider the possibility that it’s one of his tactics, trying to manipulate you, but you open the door anyway. It’s a slight crack and you barely get a look at him before he pushes it open completely and forces his way in. He sits on your bed and his shoulders hunch, breaths still shallow. “I didn’t mean it. I don’t like her, never did, I only— I was mad, and I couldn’t go through with it, and I’ve never shown you affection b-because I’ve only ever received it from you—” you hush his rambling with a hug, but he continues with his head against your stomach anyway, “I’ve never been in a relationship and I’m a fucking mess and I understand why you wouldn’t want to be with me, but please don’t leave me. I’ll do my homework, I’ll stop being mean, I won’t even talk if you don’t want me to, but please don’t stop talking to me.”

“Jungkook…” you trail in shock. “I’m here. Take a deep breath.” When he tries, it’s so shaky that it makes you tear up for the umpteenth time. You’re a mess with him. “In and out, love, in and out.” You would do it with him like an instructor, but it’s not possible when he’s squeezing your waist so tightly. It takes a few minutes for him to relax his grip and he looks up at you pitifully. “It’s okay,” you assure and pet his hair, “you’re okay.”

“I’m sorry. I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“I love you most,” he exhales. “I mean… I realized that night, that I only want to be with…”

“I get it,” you whisper to comfort him, knowing he has struggles with expressing himself, but he doesn’t stop. He wants to get it off his chest, and he quietly tells you, “I kissed another girl when I wanted to make you jealous, and then another to forget. I don’t want to do that, I mean I only want to kiss… you.”

You initiate it first by leaning down to peck his lips, and you don’t pull away too far. You peck him again, and then start kissing him. He’s never been this slow with you before, but the panic attack must have drained him. It’s the way that he doesn’t immediately turn it heated with the intent of taking it to the third base that warms your heart. He’s hesitant and taking his time, mindful of your reactions because you’re in control for once. You’re aware of how vulnerable he is being with you, and he conveys that with the gentle press of his lips. 

He whimpers into the kiss, and it’s so quiet and mournful that you lean back but he chases after you. He doesn’t want to stop like you’d assumed, so you place your knees on either side of him and hover over his thighs. Even his hands are hesitant as he lightly sits you down on his lap by pulling your waist. You smile against him and with his submission, you swipe your tongue across his lip. He opens for you. You roll your tongue around his, and he eventually begins to suck on yours. There’s a pit in your stomach that confuses you; is it arousal? Flattery? You feel so special because you know he hasn’t been like this with anyone else; so powerless and passive.

It’s passionate. You inch your body a little closer to him and he grunts when you brush against his crotch before settling down. This isn’t about sexual needs, and you don’t treat it as such but your body has a mind of its own with its constant shuffling that turns him on. He doesn’t want to feel that way, but his hips have a subtle way of thrusting beneath you. His hums rumble and you kiss him harder, losing all your senses except for the warmth of his skin. You don’t notice him controlling the movement of your hips because he’s taking it slow, and you don’t need to know why he’s quietly moaning into you.

At least no one’s watching him now. 

You pull back in surprise when he groans loudly, and you know he’s back to himself as his actions grow rough. You’re practically jumping when he grinds on you with his spit all over your mouth because of his explorative tongue. From past experience, you’ve figured out that Jungkook is more honest when he’s in the heat of the moment, so you inquire against his lips, “Why did you lie to me about Jimin?”

“That fucking freak,” he growls, “I needed a reason to get you to hate him. He didn’t stop you when it happened, did he?” 

Still manipulative. “Will you do the same with Taehyung?”

“No, I,” his thrusts slow down, “I’m gonna, err…” He looks at you for help.

“You’re gonna be a good boy and talk things out with him, right?”

“Right,” he breathes, “talk.” He slams his lips against yours again, and it’s not long before he sighs at his climax with your cooperation. There’s a small patch growing on his pants through his underwear, and he cusses when he notices it. He pecks you one last time before hugging you and laying on the bed, cuddling you like a blanket. “Do you forgive me?” 

You rest your head on his chest and feel his pulse to contemplate. He brings a hand up to your hair and starts running his fingers through it, unbothered by your lack of answer. “I’ll make it up to you,” he says. “Do you…” he clears his throat, “do you maybe want to have dinner with me?”

“Like a date?” you tease with a grin.

“Yes.”

“There’s my answer,” you lift your head to wink up at him. “But if you test me again, I’ll break your heart just as you did mine. Don’t worry though,” you whisper, “I’ll never leave you.”

#bts imagines #bts scenarios #jeon jungkook #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts fic #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook imagines #jjk smut #jeon jungkook smut #bts #networkbangtan

[arcwhore]

Who Do You Belong To?

[jj maybank] x [reader]

content: nsfw (trigger warning!)

warnings: angst, fighting, sexual assault (groping), oral (male receiving), face-fucking, unprotected sex, marking kink, dirty talk, degradation, spanking, creampie

description: when Pope and JJ start taking too long just go pee, Kie and Reader come to the rescue, but when Rafe touches his girl... 

- this is my first time writing smut, please be patient - 

words: 3.6k

                                   ≿————-　❈　————-≾

After everything thats happened in the past few days, the kooks just had to host the OBX Movie Series. Kie dragged you to the outing, hoping for a little time to relax. The whole crew was there except for John B., cause well; he’s John B. He does what he wants, so you didn’t even question his absence. After setting our stuff down, Kie left to grab drinks for the boys, and you sat down between JJ’s legs. You had only been secretly dating for two months, but he meant more to you than anything else in the world. He was absentmindedly running his fingers through your hair, lulling you to sleep while talking to Pope. Surprisingly, the other Pogues hadn’t found out about your relationship, and you definitely haven’t been the most discreet. Kiara comes back looking distraught, handing them their drinks, looking down and you and raising her eyebrows at your position.

“Just saw Rafe, and he said, and I quote, ‘Tell your boy that we know what he did.’ What is that?” She shook her head, obviously not amused by the interaction she just experienced with that kook asshole. The Pope’s eyes widen as she sits down on the blanket, looking over at JJ. He hums and responds.

“Where is he?” Kie motions behind us where Rafe and Topper are standing, clearly satisfied with their scare tactic. Pope turns in his chair, staring at them as they smirk their damn signature privileged smirks.  “Great, the whole death squad.”

JJ pulled his head forward, telling him to stop staring, then starts rambling about how he’s ‘coming out swinging’ if they corner him. You looked at Kiara who had a confused look on her face. You tried to interrupt them. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“If that doesn’t work, I got this right here,” JJ said, reaching around you to grab his bag. Your eyes widened, looking at Kie.

“I’m sorry, JJ. Please tell me you did not bring a gun here. JJ, there are kids!” Kie questioned JJ, and he was quick to shoot it down, saying ‘everything’s fine’.

“Wow, JJ, real convincing,” you looked up at him, rolling your eyes.

“Yeah, I love that JJ. Founding Principle, you guys. No secrets amongst pogues! What is JJ talking about?” Kie asked. You pulled away from JJ, turning your body around to look at the two boys. They looked between each other before Pope reluctantly leans over to Kie, mumbling, “It might go down tonight.”

“What does that mean?” Kie asked, looking over at you for help. You furrowed your eyebrows.

“JJ, what did you do?”

“It wasn’t me, it was Pope!” he snapped, his eyes going wide, realizing that he slipped up on their little secret. You scoffed, Pope, the scholar student, one of the most innocent teens you’ve ever met, did something? “Yeah, okay.”

Your sarcasm seeped through the air, the boys became quiet, and Kie continued to question them. Taking a look back at the kooks, seeing they were still staring directly into the back of Pope’s head. Maybe he did do something, but this boy was scared of even getting on the boat with the Pogues, there had to be a logical reason that he did something. Either that or there was some inside influence— JJ.

Your imagination wondered, the movie on the screen cutting on, catching your attention. You laid down on the blanket, getting comfortable on the grass, your hand holding up your head while laying on your side.

Halfway through the movie, the boys excuse themselves to take a leak. You were so immersed into the movie but as soon as JJ got up, you couldn’t focus anymore. You couldn’t relax until he was back with you, it was just this aura that he spread over to you. He wanted to protect you, and you wanted to protect him.

Minutes ticked by slowly, raising your awareness and anxiety. You sat up and looked at Kie, shaking her leg to get her attention. “There’s something wrong. They’ve been gone for like 5 minutes, and unless they had to take a shit behind a tree, it shouldn’t take them that long to pee.”

She nodded her head, grabbing JJ’s bag which he had left behind and the both of you snuck around behind the movie screen. Pope was fighting was Topper, JJ being held back and punched in the stomach and the face. Kie quickly ran and hit Topper with the bag, yelling at him and jumping on his back. You jumped into action as well, anger boiling inside of you as you ran up behind Rafe and kicking him in the balls. He stumbled, turning around and you rammed your fist into his nose, earning a groan from him.

“Thatta girl!” JJ yelled, fighting out of Kelce’s grip and side hooking him, knocking him back. Topper was able to throw Kie off of his back. “This isn’t about you, Kiara! Stay out of it!”

Your leg swiped out behind Rafe, wiping him out as you got on top of him, straddling his legs and spitting in his face. He smirked and laughed at you, only fueling you more, and you drove your elbow into his chest, knocking the air out of him. He somehow gains enough strength to flip you over, pinning you down on he ground as you squirmed. JJ yells your name, running to help but is caught again by Kelce and held back. 

“Don’t fucking touch her!” JJ snapped, pulling as hard as he could to try to get away from the boy holding him back. Rafe looks down at you and chuckles, hand going around your throat. You struggle for air and slap his forearm over and over. You hear Pope being choked by Topper beside you, and you try to turn your head to see him, trying to cry out his name. 

“Pope!” JJ yelled for his friend, then started yelling for you. “Get the hell off of her, Rafe! I’ll fucking kill you, you hear me?”

“You’re a little spitfire aren’t you, hun?” he smirks down at you, amused at your struggling state. “He’s real protective of you...” he looked over at JJ, trying to get his footing, still trying to pull away. Tears started forming in your eyes as your airway was being cut off so harshly. “Wonder what he would do if...”

Rafe’s free hand wandered down your body, stopping at your breasts. He gave them a light squeeze, looking over to see JJ’s reaction. “You fucking kook! Get off of her! She doesn’t deserve this!”

“S-s-stop...” you grappled for words, not being able to get them out.

Behind you, the movie screen exploded in flames, Rafe quickly letting go of you as a hole burned through the screen, exposing the scene behind it. People started screaming, getting up and running back from the fire. 

“Get off of him! Kelce get off of JJ!” Kie yelled at them, watching them let go. Pope fell onto his hands and knees, coughing and gasping for air. You toiled to regain oxygen in your lungs, JJ running up beside you, grabbing your face in his hands.

“Hey, hey baby, look at me. I’m right here,” he checked your neck to see the red marks that Rafe had left on it, knowing they would be bruised by the morning. Tears ran out of your eyes as you looked at him, lifting yourself up to hug him tightly. You held on to him with dear life, like he would slip through your fingers if you let go even in the slightest. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry- fuck, I’m gonna kill him.”

“It’s okay, I’m okay,” you assured him. You were trying to take some of the edge off of the situation, even though your neck was throbbing from being held so tightly. Blood that had been restricted rushed back into your brain, making you lightheaded. “Pope- is Pope okay?”

JJ helped you stand up, holding your waist until he knew you were steady. Your vision cleared and you saw Kie helping him up, putting his hat back on. You and JJ walked over to him, showing support. “You okay? We’re okay.”

“You’re a fucking idiot.” Pope chuckled lightly at Kiara. 

“She saved our asses though,” you spoke up, grinning at her. You mouthed a thank you as you all started walking away to go home. You turned your attention to JJ when the group split apart, you and JJ walking together. You looked up at him, and you could have sworn you felt a second heartbeat in your pussy. He looked so hot right then, his pupils dilated with anger and his face stern. You decided it was probably best to not leave him alone tonight, not angry, he might try to do something stupid. Not like your mom cares if you come home or not anyway. 

“Hmm, how about we go back to John B.’s and cool down?” you grabbed his bicep, trying to calm him down a little. He nodded and you made your way to the chateau.

The whole way there, JJ was fuming, his fists tight, knuckles turning white. You took hold of his hand, trying to get him to release some of the tension. “JJ, it’s not worth being mad over... It’s Rafe, I should have expected it.”

“That no good, dirty bastard. He touched you in a way that only I am allowed to touch you, because you are mine. You understand me? He doesn’t get to just do that to you and walk away feeling accomplished.” You felt the heat between your legs grow when he said that, his voice rough and hair disheveled, looking like a God. “I get to be mad at him, he touched my girl. He could have killed you!”

You stop in the middle of the street, tugging on his hand to halt him from his movements. “He could have, but he didn’t. I’m right here, and I’m all yours. Only yours. I would never let anyone else touch me the way you do, and you know damn well no one can make me feel the way that you do.” You gave him a sincere look, then reaching up to his ear to whisper, “Rafe especially can’t make me scream like you do.”

He lets out a frustrated sigh, the anger in his eyes softening, immediately hardening again with lust. He smirked at you, now leaning down to your height as he gently traced over the shell of your ear with his tongue. “You’re gonna be doing more than screaming tonight, baby girl.”

He dragged you into the chateau, pushing you down onto the pull out sofa in John B.’s living room, moving to hover over you. One of his legs pushed in between yours to separate them and he pulled you in to a passionate kiss. The aching between your legs grew more noticeable as he pushed you deeper into the couch, his arms on either side of your head. 

“JJ, please,” you begged when he pulled away to kiss down your neck. He gave open mouth kisses to the side of it, then biting and sucking on your sweet spot. You knew the hickeys he gave you tonight were going to be severely noticeable in the morning, but in that moment, that’s all you wanted. You wanted him to mark you and prove to everyone that you were his and that no one could mess with you. 

Your hands went to the hem of his shirt, lifting it up a little so he would get the hint. He broke the kiss and sat back, peeling off his shirt and doing the same thing to yours. He attacked your chest with love bites, kissing your nipples over your bra. The warmth of his mouth excited you. “Get up and strip for me so I can see whats mine.”

He rolled over and plopped next to you as you stood up, unhooking your bra. You let it slowly slide down your arms before working on the zipper of your jean shorts. You pulled them down teasingly, turning around and bending over for your ass for be on display. “I said strip, not tease.” He groaned, palming his cock over his shorts. You stepped closer to him, pushing your panties down to the ground. Your legs swung over his lap, straddling him. You whimpered when you felt the rough fabric of his shorts rubbing against your clit. You tried to grind against him, desperately chasing that friction, but he grabbed your hips harshly.

“You don’t get to be in control. I’ve got to show you who you belong to,” he flipped you over, your legs going around his waist and heels digging into his back. You struggled to get his pants off with your feet, your hands going to the waistband to pull them down. He grabbed them in one hand, pinning them above your head. He pulled them down, his cock straining against his boxers. You moaned, your hips lifting up trying to meet his in the middle. His hand pushed your hips back down into the springy mattress. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

“Please, JJ, just do something,” you pleaded, your hips bucking up once again. He growled against your skin, kissing your breasts, tongue swirling around your hardened nipple. “Mark me up, fuck me, show me who I belong to. Please.”

“Good girl,” he groaned, kissing down your stomach, stopping when he got to your pussy. He released you hands and spread your legs, sucking on you inner thighs, kissing them after. He got closer and closer to your heat, but still wouldn’t give you the satisfaction you craved. You were tired of the teasing and you grabbed the back of his head, pushing him into you. He slapped your hands away, looking up devilishly. “Shouldn’t have done that baby girl.”

You groaned and he held your hands down by your sides, kneeling on the ground in front of you. He flattened his tongue and ran a long stripe up your pussy, not letting it touch your clit. He adjusted you and put your legs over his shoulders, letting go of your arms again. He reached down to your cunt, fingers slipping around in your arousal. Once he flicked over your sensitive clit, you jerked. “Jay, please. I need you so bad.”

“Not yet, baby. I told you that you don’t get control, and you forced it. This is punishment.”

His fingers toyed with your opening for a minute, finally slipping a finger into your tight cunt. You moaned in relief, feeling his tongue being placed on your clit. He licked you softly, eliciting a louder moan from you. “JJ...”

“Be quiet or I’ll stop,” he lifted his head, looking up at you. Your eyes were hooded, a blush was flush on your cheeks, and your mouth hung open. Your breathing became erratic as he continued his punishment on you, biting down on your fist to force yourself to stay quiet. You didn’t want him to tease you, but you also didn’t want him to stop.

His mouth finally closed around your clit, sucking it harshly, tongue poking out to lick it. He moved his finger inside you agonizingly slow and your hand reached down to pull his hair. He moaned, the vibrations sending a shock wave through you. Your mouth fell open when he pushed another finger into you, going faster this time. A whimper came from your throat, signaling you were close. JJ was the only one who ever made you feel so euphoric; you were like putty in his hands when it came to sex and you both loved it. He had total control over you, and you let him do anything he wanted to you. 

His tongue stopped it’s attack on your pussy, slowly pulling his fingers out making you whine at the sudden loss of contact. He put on into his mouth and moaned, relishing in the sweet taste. “You taste so good, baby. Here, taste yourself.”

You opened your mouth and he slipped the other finger in, your mouth closing and sucking around it harshly. Your cheeks hollowed around it, your tongue swirling around his fingertip. He groaned at the sight of you, his head rolling back. He pulled his finger out of your mouth, grabbing your face in his hand. He kissed you ruthlessly, his tongue slipping into your mouth. You moaned, the sound muffled by his lips. He moved away from you, pulling his pants down and kicking them to the side. 

 “Get on your knees baby.” You obliged, placing your hands on his chest and sliding down to sit on your heels. He pushed his boxers down to his ankles. “Suck.”

You looked up at him, grabbing the shaft of his dick with just enough pressure to make him groan. You licked the tip, your tongue flicking up and down on his slit. The salty taste of his precum made you moan around him, taking him into your mouth. A sigh fell from his lips and his hands went to your hair. He tugged, making you groan in pleasure, excited to give him more. You relaxed your throat and slid all the way down, your nose pressing against his pelvic bone. One hand came up to rest on his thigh while the other played with his balls. You pulled back for air, spitting out the drool that had collected in the back of your throat. You pumped your hand on his dick, trying to spread the spit, going back down to suck midway. Your hand twisted around him while your cheeks hollowed, the hand on the back of your head holding your hair tighter. 

His hips jolted forward, hitting the back of your throat making you gag. He continued to fuck your mouth, moaning when you gagged on his tip.

“Fuck baby, I love it when you gag on my cock.” The dirty talk caused you to moan, the warmth between your legs spreading. Your hands fell down into your lap as he pulled your hair into a ponytail, pushing your head to meet his thrusts. You focused on breathing and relaxing your throat, moaning around him. You reluctantly pushed his hips back for air, gasping as you stroked his cock. “Okay baby, you ready for me?”

You nodded in excitement, finally about to get the release you deserved. You stood up and JJ pushed you onto the bed, flipping you over. 

“All fours.” He ordered. You lifted yourself up onto your forearms and your knees, arching your back for him. His hands roamed your body before reaching your ass, squeezing it. He gave you a good spank, causing you to moan and grasp the sheets beneath you. “Such a pretty little slut for me, huh? Tell me who you belong to baby girl.”

“You, JJ, I belong to you,” you moaned out. You were desperate to be fucked and JJ could see that, so he let you have it. His cock slid up and down your slit, gathering your arousal to make it easier to slip in. He adjusted quickly and grabbed your hips, pushing his dick into you slowly. You whimpered when he bottomed out in you, pushing back into him to show him that you were ready. He slapped your ass one more time before pulling out, only leaving the tip inside you before slamming back in. 

He set a unrelenting pace, fucking you hard and fast. Your face pressed into the mattress, moans being muffled by the fabric. JJ grabbed your hands and pulled them behind you, using them as his momentum to fuck you harder. He pulled you back into him while he pounded into you, your moans soon turning into screams. “That’s right baby, come on. Scream for me. Show me who you belong to.”

“Fuck, JJ!” you screamed as he grabbed you hair, pulling you up so your back would be against his chest. 

“You gonna cum for me, baby? You gonna cum all over my dick?” he moaned into your ear, slamming up into you. You nodded harshly, chasing your release.

“Yes, daddy,” you moaned out. It was spur of the moment, and you hoped he hadn’t realized but he just continued to fuck you into oblivion. He didn’t say anything, so you assumed he hadn’t heard it. 

“Cum with me, baby,” he moaned, feeling your cunt clench around him. Your entire body started to shake as the knot in your stomach unravelled, leaving you a quivering and moaning mess. The pornographic sounds coming from you and sound of the skin slapping on skin made him go into overdrive. He pushed deep inside you, stilling as his seed spilled into you. “God, fuck, baby.”

You stayed like that for a little bit, both coming down from your intense highs. Your legs were still shaking beneath you, threatening to drop you on your stomach. As soon as JJ pulled out, you fell down onto the couch, trying hard to catch your breath. The pull out shook beside you as JJ laid down, pulling you into him. You cover both of you with the blanket hanging over the edge of the couch, nuzzling into him. He cleared his throat.

“So... daddy huh?” He asked you. You knew he was smirking behind you, and you rolled over, your cheeks heating up significantly. You knew he was never going to let you live that down, whether he liked it or not. 

“Don’t mention it.”

my masterlist

#jj maybank #jj maybank smut #outer banks smut #outer banks #rafe cameron #john b rutledge #sarah cameron #kiara carrera #pope heyward #smut #fanfic

[chironshorseass]

angst number 5 for percabeth?

“What’s the point?”

Dear anon, I am sorry that I got a but carried away. Just a teeny bit. 

Read on ao3.

Au in which Percy killed the Goddess of Misery, back in Tartarus.

tw: drowning, implied abuse, mental health issues, mild blood

Percy woke up drowning.

In the back of his mind, he knew that that was not possible. In the back of his mind, he could hear the running water. Water from the shower faucet.

He’s floating, maybe. In the tub.

But that’s not what was going through his mind at the moment. All he felt was breathlessness. And water. But it wasn’t the good kind. This water, cold and dark, did not want him.

No, it wanted to destroy him.

Like Misery.

He’d killed that goddess, once upon a time. Made her choke on her tears, turned her blood to dust.

The running water sounded like her, that wretched being. She was laughing at him.

He forgot why and where he was in the first place. That laugh was the only thing that was certain at the moment. And the water—with its icy breath—filled up his mouth and lungs.

Where was he in his dreams?

Hopefully not here.

His arms reached out, searching for something—anything—that could pull him out of this hell. They could’ve been nonexistent, for all the help they managed to achieve. He felt as if his own body couldn’t even move an inch. He wanted someone to save him.

Maybe you don’t deserve to be saved.

.

.

The memory gushed around Percy, resurfacing from the deepest parts of his mind—well, to be honest, it had always been there, gnawing at him.

Tartarus always came back to haunt him, one way or another.

He was there, right next to the inky abyss, surrounded on all sides by the liquid poison and its fumes. It crawled slowly but surely toward him like liquid honey. He backed away but knew it was no use. He’d die one way or another.

Annabeth screamed at Akhlys, trying to get the goddess’ attention away from him. She had the likeness of one of the corpses that Nico liked to sprout from the ground, not at all looking like that beautiful and vibrant girl he had once known.

Percy lifted his head to look at Misery, the mastermind behind it all. She grinned at him, flashing her golden fangs. Her cheeks were rivers of blood, like the blood he tasted in his mouth as he bit his tongue so he wouldn’t cry out from the sudden pain.

He glared at the poison, its small lakes pooling around him.

Lakes.

Liquid.

Maybe he was mad. But maybe he didn’t have to die right now. The ringing in his ears grew louder; Annabeth’s shouts sounded further away. But he could stop this, he had to try.

He concentrated, feeling the familiar tug in his gut. The poison paused in its tracks.

“What is this?” Ackhlyss’ voice bordered on manic.

“Poison,” Percy rasped, standing up with shaking legs. His motive, however, didn’t falter. “That’s your specialty, right?”

He watched as the toxic liquid retreated farther from him and toward Akhlyss’ feet as if she were a magnet and the poison was metal. It sizzled against her toes, and she jumped, shrieking. She swiped at it, but more came.

“You dare go against me, boy?” But as she said it, tears flooded her eyes; her knees buckled. After many futile attempts, she screeched, “Stop this!”

But he was just getting started.

Her control over her own creation was over, dominated by someone else.

The goddess shrunk into herself, tears flowing like rivers down her cheeks.

Oh, good. More water.

He had the urge to laugh. How foolish of her.

Percy concentrated, searching deeper and deeper into the root of his powers. Soon enough, he had Akhlyss choking on her own tears; it engulfed her mouth and eyes. She clutched her throat, poison burning her legs as it climbed into her as well.

He was dimly aware of Annabeth calling to him—begging, but she didn’t understand this feeling that Percy felt. This glass-shattering sensation against his stomach. How good it felt, to finally control what could never be controlled.

So he didn’t listen. Instead, he clenched his fists and kept it up. See how much misery Misery could take.

He pushed further into him, and Akhlyss’ blood boiled.

Minutes or hours or days passed before her wailing sounds and anguished cries stopped for good. The poison finally encased her entire body, and she lay on the ground, motionless. In the blink of an eye, her remains were turned to dust.

It is done.

“Percy?”

Annabeth walked up to him, taking her time. The look on her face was enough for him to stagger, clutching his stomach.

“Percy?” she whispered, now closer to him.

His name lingered in his mind, a chanting that never seemed to stop. But through the agony in his gut and Annabeth’s muffled sobs into his shirt, her expression afterwards was what haunted him most.

It is done.

.

.

Something broke inside him that day, he knew. Just like right now, when his powers and his heritage served him no purpose.

It was as if he were trapped in an eternal void. His hands, finally able to do something, clawed at his throat, willing his lungs to work.

Why can’t I breathe?

Why can’t I breathe .

He was the hero, the son of Poseidon; this wasn’t supposed to be happening.

What an ironic way to die , don’t you think?

The laughter kept invading his thoughts, ringing across his brain just as horribly as the water.

He gasped out, scouring for any oxygen he could steal.

Water.

Water in my lungs.

Had he always been drowning? Or was this a nightmare?

Perhaps he should just give up. Perhaps the water wouldn’t feel so cold if that were to happen.

But if he listened closely to the chaos, he could make out a muffled scream. Someone crying out, pronouncing his name.

Arms grabbed him by the shoulders, and suddenly he’s sitting up, leaning into someone else. Hands grasped his face, soft and tender. Sobs echoed across the room. His eyes were shut tight, but he’s sure that he’s in some kind of room.

Right, the bathroom.

The laughter stopped.

He tried to breathe again, but he found that he still couldn’t, the door of his lungs yet to unlock. Panic seized into him once more. He tried to open his eyes, but they felt like lead weights.

Annabeth. He realized now, that she’d been the one to pull him out. She was here, shaking him, crying, letting the water pour down the drain.

If I could only breathe.

He faintly registered the way she gently pushed him down, making him lie on the cool tub, now free of the water. He felt pressure on his chest. Her hands, compressing and releasing.  

And then, maybe, he could breathe again. His world was still tinted in balck around the edges, though.

.

.

Annabeth had her arms wrapped around him, both of them lying on their sides in the comfort of his bed. She protected his Achilles’ spot, a habit she never could break. As much as her doing this filled Percy with ease and calmness, he knew the truth: she couldn’t protect him. Not really. His true war was with himself.

Her warmth didn’t seem to suffice, either. Or the snug pajamas that she had given him to wear.

He could still remember the bathtub’s chill, after all. And Tartarus.

Annabeth snuggled closer to him. He felt her breathing against his neck, real and alive. She threaded her fingers through his and kissed the nape of his neck.

“I’m sorry,” she said, voice breaking. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. That I didn’t realize—”

“S’not your fault. I just...” A lump formed in his throat. He swallowed it down. “I don’t know why. Why was I fucking drowning, ‘Beth? Why?”

His eyes bored into the dusty bookshelf in his room, but soon his sight blurred. A tear fell down his cheek and into his mouth. It tasted like the sea. The sea that betrayed him.

“Maybe, maybe you’re just scared.”

“Like you were of me?” He shut his eyes tight. “When I killed her?”

Her curls tickled his face as she shook her head.

“No,” she whispered. “I could never be scared of you.”

“But you were. I know you, Annabeth. And I know you’re scared, even now. And the worst thing? You’re scared of me.”

“No.” Her tone took a hard edge. “I’m not scared of you. Gods you’re the person I love most in this fucked up world. Why would I be scared of you?” Her hand unclasped from his, moving it to his damp hair, combing through the dark curls. “No, I’m scared of what you could do to yourself.

“Especially when Sally’s not here, and we’re alone and I, I assume you’re fine. But I’m not even fine, so it makes no fucking sense that I didn’t try to see what was wrong earlier, and...and…” She broke down into sobs, face smothered into the crook of his neck as he lay there, unmoving. His eyelids were closed, but tears escaped them anyway.

She pressed her damp nose against his skin and took a shaky breath.

“I never…” She lifted her face and swept back some of the hair that stuck to his forehead.

He opened his eyes, and finally looked at her, craning his neck to do so. Her cheeks glistened with tears and her hair was a tangled mess, but he took in her image, gazing at her with new vision.

It hit him—that this girl would forever be his anchor, his haven. This complicated, sweet and amazing girl, with eyes akin to the storm inside him. That she was protecting him. That she wanted him to heal. She reclined on her elbows, softly caressing his exposed cheek with her thumb. Then, she leaned down and kissed his tears away.

“I never—and I thought you were going to die,” she said in a small voice. “...I never knew how powerful you could be.”

He stiffened under her touch.

“What’s the point, anyway? It’s not like my powers work anymore.”

He didn’t dare admit what he yearned to say, that he deserved every last breath of pain. That Gabe, that sorry excuse of a stepfather, had been right. That Percy would amount to nothing, and in the end, he’d end up just like that horrible man. He already felt it inside of him, settling comfortably as if reuniting with an old friend.

“But they do work, Perce.”

“How would you know?” His tone sounded accusatory, but Annabeth didn’t seem to mind. “I was drowning, just like in that prophecy. In Alaska.”

“I know you still have them, because I feel it in you. And now you’re letting it consume you instead of controlling it. What happened down there...you can’t change what you did.”

He exhaled, “I wish I was sorry.”

She didn’t respond, only settled back into him.

After a few minutes of staring at the heaps of comics and the little night light, she murmured, “You’ll be alright. We can work through this. Together. I know we can.”

He could only wish he felt the same way.

Nearing to the edge of dreams in his sleep, he felt the water once again. At first, he realized that it was the same way as in the bathtub. Darkness and cold. Jagged ice.That horrible sensation of panic and helplessness.

Images flashed through the currents. Teeth and golden eyes and blood and choking. Voices whispered to him.

Let go.

What is life, anyway?

It’s useless. That’s what life was.

The water wouldn’t let him breath, anyway, so he sunk into the depths. He was used to this. It didn’t matter.

As he drifted away, a voice came to his mind, so startling and out of place in the coldness that it felt like someone had suddenly spoken right into his ear.  

Remember your lifeline, dummy.

Annabeth had said that, hadn’t she? He wasn’t so sure; he couldn’t remember much about anything.

What was it?

Anchor.

Something pulled him upright. It was a tug, coming from the small of his back. And then the darkness didn’t seem as imposing. The whispers and wailing stopped. A smile came to his mind. A face hallowed in a crown of golden hair. She was by the sea, splashing salty water with foam and laughing.

Anchor.

No, Annabeth wouldn’t want this for him; he could fight to live. He could get better. The water turned blue and warm, like drinking a mug of hot cocoa. He gasped, letting his tired lungs have what they wanted from the start.

She was right, gods, was she always right. Hiis powers still worked. And clearing his mind, he remembered the breathing methods they’d practiced, him and Annabeth.

One in, two out, three in, four out.

Up on the surface, the sun gleamed, sending golden ripples all around.

A hand appeared from the outside, cutting into the water. There was a canoe; he could see the dark silhouette. This time, his limbs moved with ease.

One in, two out, three in, four out.

The currents guided him up, up into the world. When he drew nearer to the person on the other side, he looked up, only to be blinded by the sun. But movement from above blocked the light like an eclipse.

Annabeth.

Always Annabeth.

She beamed, seemingly annoyed and amused at the same time, her yankees cap tucked over her hair. Her arm extended toward him, and she laughed. The echoes rippled even in the water.

“Hold on, Seaweed Brain. You’re not getting away from me that easily.”

He felt it now. It wasn’t the currents moving him toward the sound of her voice, but a cord. A single golden thread.

“Come on. Take my hand.”

And so he did.

#percy jackson fanfiction #pjo fic #percabeth fic #percabeth #writing prompt #angst #hurt/comfort #suicidal thoughts tw #blood tw #drowning tw #dark!percy #powerful percy jackson #I cant help it sorry #look mom i can write

[bonesaldente]

Caliginous I Darth Maul x Reader

ca·​lig·​i·​nous

adjective Dark, dim, or misty.

summary: You are a contract killer. After one particular job for somebody who you think is a Sith lord, you unwillingly get caught up in his quest to rid the galaxy of the Jedi and establish total domination for the Sith. The more time you two spend with each other, however, the closer you get. Complications ensue - can you fight them while giving in to passion?

*set before the events of the Phantom Menace

warnings: violence, eventually smut (one scene that can be skipped)

(you can also read this on ao3 here)

Chapter 1: The Hitwoman

ca·lig·i·nous

adjective

Dark, dim, or misty.

------

You hold your breath. A good 20 feet before you stands the target, an insectoid from Geonosis, its wing adorned back turned to you. You are far out in the forest, nobody close enough to witness the crime that is about to happen.

Rule number 1: No witnesses

The creature now bends down to pick another mushroom - they have been in high demand recently because of their freshly discovered effects on the brain, and the insectoid is just one of many spice traders who are trying to profit off it. It’s the reason you have been hired, you think.

Rule number 2: No questions about the motive

Slowly, careful as to not rustle any leaves, you lift your dagger. One quick slit through the throat and it will be over, as the rules demand. You are about to jump forward and finish the job, when a bird behind you decides to break the silence and cry as if it were being murdered itself. 

The Geonosian spins around and immediately spots you as you lunge forward to try and keep your advantage, but it’s too late. He jumps aside and you just barely miss him, cursing under your breath as he starts running away. 

You run after him, slowing your steps as you realize which way he is going. Subtly grinning to yourself, you put the dagger back into its holster, taking out the machete that’s on your back. 

He is running towards the river. The insectoid, from the planet that’s basically a desert, is unknowingly running towards the only source of water in a 100 miles radius. 

You pick up the speed again, not wanting to lose sight of it. The sound of water flowing is already in your ears and you can see the target again, still running towards the water. Running so fast you could almost think it knew how to…

...swim.

You very nearly cry out in anger as you watch it jump into the water without hesitation, breaking into a full sprint to catch up to it. Geonosians can’t swim, right? Their bodies aren’t made for activities like this, unless… 

Your jaw clenches as the realization hits you. There is exactly one subspecies of Geonosians that knows how to swim, and it makes up less than 5 percent of their population, a detail that the client certainly mentioned, but Magnus chose to deem irrelevant for you. 

Rule number 3: No unfinished jobs

You sigh as you jump into the water as well, letting it pull you into its cold, all-encompassing embrace. Diving, you can see the target that’s been underwater for well over thirty seconds, indicating it -unlike you- has some kind of device that supplies it with oxygen. You start swimming towards it, all the while holding your breath and trying to calm your quick heart rate to increase the time you get before you need to come back up. The Geonosian is too focused on swimming away to realize that you are following it and getting closer with every second. You reach out with one hand, so close to grabbing the little device in its mouth, when it suddenly turns its body to face you and punches you in the face, the water slowing down your movements too much for you to block it. You see stars, both from the impact and the fact you are slowly running out of oxygen, but nevertheless you face it again and try to move its attention away from protecting its face and on the little blade you pull out with your left hand. You try to get a slice at its guts, and as it grabs your wrist in defense, you reach out with your right arm again and manage to rip the device from its mouth, immediately moving to get back to the land. 

Air streams into your lungs as you break through the water surface, a gasp leaving your lips while you pull yourself on land on the root of a tree that has grown half into the river. You don't wait, but position yourself on one knee and take out your blaster, watching the rippling surface attentively.

It will have to reveal itself from the security of the tainted water soon, now that its breath is running out. It can only be a matter of seconds…

There. Bubbles appear on the water surface, and a few seconds later, that weird, bony head follows. 

You take the shot and it goes straight through its skull, blue blood mixing with the brownish water around it.

At last you allow your body to relax somewhat, flopping down on the forest ground and leaning your back against the trunk of a tree.

“I better get paid extra for this,” you mumble as you unlock the beeping comlink on your wrist. It must be Magnus, wondering why it’s taking you so long to check in.

“Yes?” You answer the call annoyedly, still angered that he forgot to tell you something so crucial.

“You need to come to Felicia’s. Right now”

“Can’t this wait? I only got done just now and I-”

“No. Meet me right away. This is important.” He hangs up before you can retaliate.

You pull your drenched hair in frustration with one hand while bringing down the pointy tip of your dagger on an unsuspecting bug crawling over the leaves beside you. A string of curses leaves your mouth before you pull yourself up again and head back through the forest to where your speeder is hidden.

 The ride to Felicia’s is shorter than one might think. The shady cantina is located just at the edge of the city, easily accessible from most places, but far enough away from where the action happens to be relatively empty most of the time - which is why the Concinnity chooses to do its business there quite often. Seeing as you are a guild of contract killers, you do need to switch locations frequently, but occasionally you still come back there. And today appears to be one of those occasions.

While you jump off your speeder, you wonder why Magnus would want you to come here. Usually, he meets with the client ahead of time and just assigns one of you to do the job at your headquarters, providing you with the information necessary (or not, apparently). It is rare that you even get to meet the client, which is more than fine with you. You value your privacy, and it’s not like the type of people who hire the likes of you make for the most pleasant company.

The wind and constant heat of Kessel did little to dry you off: You are still soaking wet, your hair clings to your face, and with every step you take, water drips on the ground.

Fuming with anger at Magnus for withholding important information and not even giving you time to dry off at your apartment, you push the door to the cantina open, squinting to make out the figures spread out across the dark room, the only fleck of color the reddish wood that makes up the floor. You hardly even notice anymore how the cantina folk tenses up and quickly looks away from you once they see your attire; it is a known fact that around these parts, people who wear more than two blasters are not to be messed with, because they are most likely professionals. It takes you a moment, but then you spot Magnus sitting at a table in a corner, a cloaked figure accompanying him. Your anger boils up again when you see his face. Sometimes he seems to forget whom he is ordering around like a dog. You are a trained killer, yet he treats you like his employee, somebody who runs errands for him - an inconvenience at times, nothing more. 

Maybe he could use a reminder of how easy it would be to dispose of him. Hell, he didn’t even notice you entered the building, it is a miracle he is still alive in this field of work.

He definitely needs a reminder.

You move just a little bit closer and pull out one of the short throwing knives that you keep hidden on your backside, strapped to the inside of your belt. You study the roughly 4-inch weapon in your hand before adjusting your grip on it and aiming. Right at this moment he is dangling a chain from his fingers in front of his hooded partner. It’s the Concinnity badge, a proof of your reliability, a promise to integrity. 

You calculate the strength and throw the knife. 

It bores into the wooden wall behind them with deadly precision, pierced through the leather band of the chain that he had hanging from his fingers seconds ago. Even from your distanced position you can hear his yelp, which is satisfying but still doesn’t quite still the anger in you. 

Both heads whip around to face the attacker, but when Magnus recognizes you, the look of fear turns to sheepishness. Your jaw clenches and you stride towards them. 

“There you are!” He claps his hands together in his usual, eccentric demeanor.

“You!” You press out. “You said the target was Geonosian. You didn’t mention it was that type from the north!”

He raises his eyebrows in confusion. “I’m not following. What kind is that?”

“The kind that swims!” you spit out. There is a puddle forming where you are standing, and your wet gear, which is already heavy as it is, feels about ten times heavier now that it’s wet. You are pretty sure all of the detonators on your belt are completely busted, and only the maker knows how many gadgets you have lost in the river water. But most of all, you hate, hate, Magnus more than anything at this very moment, dry and comfortable, a pouch with credits set in front of him.

“That is unfortunate.” He merely says, while attempting to pull the knife out of the wall. “Take a seat.”

You grab a chair and position it at the table. Magnus hands you your knife, which you promptly sink into the table as a last outlet of your fury.

“This is your next client. My lord, this is her, she is our best… asset,” he grins conspiratorially. You give him an irritated side-glance.

Then, for the first time, you actually face the client. His hood hides most of his face, but you can see red skin and black marks that cover at least the lower half of his face. He moves his head ever so slightly in acknowledgment.

“The target is Galenos Tallav,” Magnus continues. Your breath catches in your throat, a spark inside you ignited again. How dare he - “and the time is pressing. You need to finish this job in a week, the sooner you can do it, the better.”

You stare at him, silently cursing him in every language you know. That bastard wants to test you and your loyalty, he is mocking you with this obvious-

“Now, I know what you think,” he lowers his voice, “but I only chose you for this assignment, because the time is so pressing, and I know you can do it in the time frame. Also, the pay well compensates for it, trust me.” 

You look at him darkly, the name of the target still reverberating through your head and bringing up sore memories. Memories he knows of.

“Fine.”

“Perfect!” He looks overjoyed, way too eager to accept this task. This client, the man with the hood, truly must be paying very well.

“Let’s get to the details, then. You are of course in charge, but I suggest you try sneaking in disguised as a slave, you know how many-” You interrupt him with a curse in our native language, which you assume the client does not speak, judging by the fact we have been speaking Basic up until this point.

With the characteristic hissing of your own language you remind him that he made sure many years ago you would never, ever be able to be disguised as a slave. Back then, when he decided to punish you by having all these marks etched into your skin- skin you would have to show as a slave.

How could he forget all the cruelties you had to endure under his watch so easily?

He shrugs, yet another infuriating habit of his, and raises his hands defensively. Switching back to Basic, he says, “A different plan, then. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” He gets up from the chair, grabbing the pouch on the table while leaving. “I have business to attend to”. He turns his back to you, about to head out, when he spins around again. “That is, if you’ve finished the job?”

What a stupid question. “Of course I finished the job!” you snap. “But that wasn’t thanks to you and your unreliable distribution of information. We’ll talk later.” You try to make the last part sound threatening, but he is not impressed. That’s what happens when your boss has basically raised you since you were a toddler.

 Once he is completely out of earshot, you abruptly turn to face the man in front of you, taking in his appearance properly now. He is wearing many layers of clothing, which, considering Kessel’s hot climate, clearly makes him an outsider. You can see the beginning of a wide belt, but it’s not a utility belt like the one you are wearing. The only thing clasped to it is… A silver handle?

You narrow your eyes, staring where you presume his eyes are.

“What are you?” It’s hard to tell whether he is taken aback by the bold question. You suppose there are other reasons why you typically have minimal client contact. “The Jedi are not welcome here, you know,” you say, slowly moving your eyes back to where you spotted what you are sure is a lightsaber.

“I am no Jedi.” His voice is surprisingly soothing, but his face is scrunched up into a snarl. You wonder how else he would have acquired a lightsaber, but remember that the Concinnity possesses one too - locked up in the weapon chamber and not cleared for taking on missions, but they have one. It was taken from a Jedi in a fight by one of their own a few years back; you remember getting to try it out before it was confiscated.

You don’t push the matter any further and lean back in a more relaxed manner: his reaction to being called a Jedi is all you needed to hear.

“Are you going to require any kind of proof when the job is done? A finger, toe, hair, ear,...?”

“Your memory of the deed will be sufficient.” You nod slowly, ignoring how weirdly he phrased his answer.

“Do you mind any additional deaths in the name of the mission, such as guards and or witnesses?” You rattle down the standard procedure for setting the frame for missions.

“No. Do what you must.” 

“Good.” This makes it much easier, no pesky requirements in the name of a clean conscience.

“How fast can you do it?” He asks, his tone pressing.

You ponder for a moment.

“Considering I will most likely only get one shot at this, I want to tail him for a day or two, assess his security situation, both guards and housing, then I will need at least one more day to prepare, if not two. It all depends on what I can find while shadowing him. So, figure four days, if all goes well.”

He nods, seemingly satisfied with the answer. Reaching inside his cloak, he pulls out a little device, equipped with only one button. 

“Press this when it is done, and I will meet you outside this cantina.” 

You hold the small machine between your fingers briefly before putting it in a pocket inside your jacket.

He gets up from the table, giving you a small nod as he leaves. You remain seated for another minute, then take your leave as well. You have a mission to prepare for.

____

next chapter

#darth maul #maul #darth maul x reader

[deuxjun]

Concupiscent | LTY

Title: Concupiscent Group: NCT Member: Taeyong Genre/Warning: Smut with minimal plot, kind of a gang au kind of not, dom!yong, vulgar language including dirty talk, asphyxiation, spanking, hair pulling, pet names, orgasm denial, oral (mutual)   Summary/Request: In which baby boy Taeyong decides to show his Queen just how much of a King he is when she undermines him | Or in which Taeyong’s Leo moon pops Word count: 6K+ (I’ve had this in my drafts since sept ‘18 please don’t let this flop)

The fact that the heels of your Manilos were touching the floors of downtown Seoul had already soured your mood, but having to leave your Bugatti Chiron on this grimy street, in front of a dingy, rusting club made you outright pissed.

You sauntered up to the entrance, the waves of people parting for you without a word said. The pathetic excuse of velvet rope was already moved to make way for you, your heels clicking against uneven pavement, then muffling when you entered the building and felt your heels sink into the old carpet.

Doing business here was the worst, but supposedly the most conspicuous. Every few months a brand new shitty location found for the meetings to be held. Usually you find it a waste of time, but tonight you had something to say.

“A pleasure as always.” The member in  charge of District 3, Irene, had said upon your entrance, to which you simply nodded in response and found a seat.

A server had started to come around to pour you a drink when they were intercepted. “I can do that for her.” You saw the dust of pink blushing the servers cheeks, simply because of a charming smile from a handsome man and you just had to roll your eyes. “Its her job.” Your tone was clipped, annoyed and Taeyong immediately picked up on the fact. “She’s serving you, I was under the impression that was my job.” His tone was hushed as he placed the flute of champagne in front of you, eyes cautious when they laid on you. You barely spared him a glance. “I’m looking for a king, not a servant" 

The iciness in your tone had Taeyong pausing and then retreating with a nod. Many women would be happy to have a man willing to be at their beck and call, and while you had loved it at the beginning, his recent performance proved that all of that was for nought. If he was unable to progress it would mean nothing. 

"Shall we begin?” District 7 leader Rosé asked. 

Right to business, just the way you liked it. Everyone settled into their seats and began to update the leaders of business in their respective districts. When it came round to you, you were quick to relay what you had to, but needed to voice something else too.  “I have concerns over District 8. We lost 1.3 Million worth of product. A huge loss.” As the words left your mouth Taeyong’s head shot up and the understanding of your mood was apparent in his eyes. But, there was also the beginnings of fury inking out in his dark orbs.

“That was not my-“

"I’m concerned we’ve left the district to someone too inexperienced. We even had fucking detective Jung getting cocky with us, asking for more money. This was not a small slip up and the fact that the person in charge is not taking ownership for the mistake is a weakness in his leadership. We need to re-evaluate." 

Taeyong was positively fuming, you could see the bulge of veins in his near translucent skin,how his jaw ticked under the pressure of clenched teeth. His dark gaze was burning through you and you returned his look with your own steely gaze. Business first.

"While your point is valid, I will have a private conversation regarding district 8. Moving on.” You could tell, you could feel his aura cloud over you, how he struggled to turn his eyes away from you and focus. It seems in more ways than one you affect Lee Taeyong. 

The meeting was adjourned hours later, but Taeyong was held back to speak with the main bosses. He gave one last dark look your way, before he turned away, not watching you walk out. 

The air was much cooler against your skin, the sky devoid of light above the city as you walked to your car and leant on the bonnet, waiting for Taeyong to finish. You may come off as cold and heartless, but you really did care for Taeyong. In your line of business however, mistakes like his needed to be nipped in the bud. You could only hope he understood where you were coming from. 

You spotted the deep red of his hair under a lamplight when he exited. “Tae.” His head turned hearing the familiar voice call out to him. He spared you a glance and scoffed, but then in a split second decided to approach you. He didn’t say anything, in fact he bypassed you and opened your car door. “Give me a ride home."  Now it was your turn to scoff.

Nevertheless you found yourself in your car turning on the ignition. "You can stay at mine tonight.” You didn’t look at him, but you felt his eyes on you as you sped down the highway. He leant toward you suddenly, his breath brushing your skin as he whispered. “You sure that’s a good idea, baby?” Your body betrayed you when you felt the shivers rake down your spine. 

Opting to ignore him, your foot pressed harder on the pedal and you shifted gears till you were well over the speed limit. Taeyong sitting back in his seat with a smirk as you barely managed to manoeuvre amongst other cars occupying the highway.  It was no surprise that in no time you were home.

Your heels were neatly placed by the front door for you to put in their proper place tomorrow. You began to make your way toward the staircase when you felt the gentle weight of Taeyong’s hand on your wrist. His hand had left the door as he shut it, while his other remained on you. He released a sigh of discontent and stepped closer to you, hand slipping from your wrist so that his arms could slither around your waist and hold you closer, his head dropping softly to rest on your shoulder. A rare moment of intimacy admittedly, but one you didn’t shy away from as you brought your own hands to run soothingly through his hair. 

“T…” voice uncharacteristically soft, “are you-“ your voice faded with the beginnings of soft, tender pecks against your shoulder; your thoughts had faded into the abyss of your mind, breath caught in your throat, apprehensive of the warm mouth that was slowing travelling above your collarbone and up the slope of your neck. Each light touch sent a wild spread of tingles, reaching higher and higher till they found your jaw. You found your head slowly turning to meet his lips, half lidded eyes boring into his. 

At long last your mouths met, slowly, in a soft dance, sweet like honey trickling down a tree. It was an unusual kiss, no urgency, no unbridled lust, a kiss that forsaked time, a kiss that didn’t need more, it was a kiss that stopped the cogs of your brain from allowing you to function, a kiss that untangled the threads of reality and made you feel as if the very fabric of the universe no longer existed and instead you were floating in nothingness, but it didn’t matter because Taeyong’s lips were on yours.  

Parting is such sweet sorrow never had as much meaning to you as it did when Taeyong removed his lips from yours and the moment he did air rushed into your lungs, oxygen igniting a fire in your chest. A fleeting moment of silence and catching your breath before Taeyong was gently pulling you toward him again, this time tighter. 

You sighed against his mouth, as if it had been years, instead of the mere seconds that his lips had been parted from yours. Taeyong’s weight pushed you to move backward, clumsily, never leaving his lips, even as your head knocked against the wood of your door. In that moment his mouth pressed a bit harder, a bit more wanton, hands leaving their comfortable place on your hips to run over your legs, up your waist, into your hair; you felt the nimble fingers against the strands, the tugging around and then the slight relief of pressure when he had succeeded in releasing your tight bun. His hands immediately wove into your hair, pressing your head harder against him, a soft groan humming against your lips. 

Much to your protest his mouth left yours, but your complaints weren’t raised once you felt the sensation of his teeth softly nibbling at your neck. You were growing warmer by the second, soon to be going into a dangerous heat that would make you delirious. Your fingers ran his build, gripping him closer. You felt the pressure surely to bring several hickies along your neck moving onto your collarbones. 

A gentle heat spread on the flesh of your thigh gripped in Taeyongs hand. He encouraged your limb higher, to rest on his hip and moved to slot between your legs, even closer to your body. You sighed, his warmth binding into the pores of your skin and making you glow with warmth. 

Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip the moment Taeyong rolled his pelvis into you, deliciously grinding on that telltale spot with purpose.  His lips curve into a smile against your skin, taking pleasure in the change of your voice becoming soft and breathy, his name parting from your mouth like it was all you knew. 

Lips, in all their soft wonder, grazed your skin in a way that contradicted the deepness of his hips pressing into you. You could only cradle him impossibly closer in fear that if there was nothing for you to anchor to, you would really slip away. 

His fingers tickled your thighs, up to your hips to dig in, making your breath hitch, pain mutely registered the deeper he pressed. His ears keened for your low moans, the kind that bubbled from deep within your chest and came out more as a groan. It made him smirk.

A smirk that grew as your startled yelp echoed in the quiet, body thudding harshly against your door as Taeyong forcibly guided you to turn around.

Taeyong’s body closed in on you, fingers drawing into your hair and pulling back harshly to bear your neck for his lips to lay on. His hips dug into your backside, slow and torturous grind completely contrasting the aching grip he had on your hair. He was nibbling your ear lobe, seemingly deaf to your whispers and soft moans for something more. 

His hand laid on your hip, rubbing his thumb back and forth in a slow motion on your clothed skin. "You’re so pretty.” He purred, his hardness evident against you and making you wish to feel him bare, skin to skin. 

“Please.” You whisper, pressing back against him. “Please give it to me baby boy." 

A noise sounds from the back of his throat, barely audible but you heard it, that familiar sweet sound that always has you growing needier. 

He kisses at your shoulder in little pecks and runs his hand lower to the swell of your arse. He squeezes the flesh softly in his palm then slips lower between your legs to press up against your heat. You shudder, trembling slightly when the pads of his fingers slides in a slow movement up and down your centre. 

In a second he has lowered to his knees, a dull thud meeting your ears. Your hair falls against your back, Taeyong bringing his other hand to palm at your meaty flesh. He pushes your dress up, mouthing at the backs of your thighs, up to the teasing skin peeking out of your underwear. You hum in delight, Taeyong leaving no place of bared skin untouched, unkissed and when he presses his face between your cheeks and inhales deeply you whine. 

He tilts his head up further, teeth nipping, nose pressing further into you, meeting your own hips pushing back against him. 

"Relax, baby.” He hushes after pulling back. 

You rest your head against the door, taking slow and deep breaths, just allowing your body to succumb to Taeyong and his touch; he tilts himself away from you to stare at your bottom, to watch his fingers daintily run up and down your thighs, caress over your plumpness, and then finally his fingers tiptoe to the band of your underwear. 

The material crawls down your skin when he begins to lower it, taking his sweet time to let it slide over your cheeks, down your thighs and hit the floor. 

A long beat of silence passes, yet you don’t utter a word. Your ears are filled with the heavy thump of your heart, with adrenaline fueled blood rushing through your exhilarated body, and all you can do is wait, feel the heavy stare of Taeyong’s eyes slowly eyeing your bared flesh until tingles spread over your skin as if it were a physical touch.

The first touch of him on your skin has you sighing in a way that spoke of your need, of the way you crave for that softness unique to him, the care in which he handles you, sedating your body to all he has to offer. 

His hands are gentle and warm, gliding up the backs of your thighs till the weight of your globes are held in each palm. His fingers curl to squeeze and gently dig, lifting to part and reveal your temple that he loves to worship. 

His breath touches you first, like static against you, but then his tongue glides against where your arousal has begun to steadily stream and gone is that static charge, and in place is cloud covered skies lit by lightning, feeling the thunder rattle your insides until you are left shaking against the gentle laps of his tongue seemingly kissed by moonlight, for soon you see stars. 

The wood grates under the clawing of your nails, senses totally engrossed in the sound of Taeyong languidly slurping you up, in the feel of his tongue that seems to be made of magic sliding in a slow motion over your core, in the way he chokes a whimper into you that you know is caused by his adoration for your taste; you’re enamoured and willing to give him everything and know that he is willing to give it all to you, his Queen. 

And in a sudden moment, his spell is broken. Either you’re slow, or Taeyong was just that quick, for in a matter of indiscernible seconds he has risen to his feet, body pressed hard against yours and slipping between your slick folds are the tips of fingers, agile, without a hint of tease when they slide upwards, inside of you, so so embarrassingly easy. 

At the edge of where your sanity seemed to lay are knuckles pressing so harsh and purposefully against you, you lose your breath. Wetness trickles down his skin, like morning dew kissing a petal, the sound of his fingers being sucked in sending his blood rushing south, encouraging him to have you gushing even more for him. 

“I slide so easily into you, baby. You always open up so well for me, don’t you? Your body knows me. Loves me and the things I do to it, right?” He is so soft spoken in your ear, it makes you dizzy with the way the words part from his lips sweetly, yet turn your insides in the same effect his fingers do. 

You can’t find the will in yourself to reply. Not when your body is practically dropping down onto his fingers, making you feel as if they were pressing that much deeper. Not when you can clearly feel its shape, thin and knobbly against your walls that squeeze so tightly around him. But, Taeyong is having none of that, frustration getting the better of him, with a hiss moving his fingers urgently inside of you and all of a sudden, your juices barely able to spill from you with the force of his fingers fucking it back in. 

“Right?" 

Your voice cracks into a sound like glass shattering; broken, sharp, hitting at different volumes in an uneven pattern under the ferocity and speed of his fingers. Your throat hitches and your back bows and Taeyong knows that you’re almost there. Close, so, so close. 

”Please.“ You screech, trembling against the coolness of your door feeling utterly empty and devastated at the loss of your orgasm that you knew you could have reached in just a few more frustrating seconds. ”Please.“ You cry out breathless, sweaty palms squeaking against the door when your body begins to slide down. 

Taeyong has stepped back, distancing himself from you so he could watch the way your skin moved with your trembles, so he could watch you hopelessly hang on and still beg to be pushed to the edge. 

"Turn around.” His low voice carried in the quiet ,past the thump in your ears. He watched your lagged movements, your arms pushing weakly against your door until you were facing him, face flushed, perspiration shining on your skin. “Come here, baby.” You pushed yourself off the door and took the few steps until you were again so close his warmth became yours again. 

He cupped your face, thumbs stroking back and forth beneath your eyes where tears sat at your waterline. “Oh baby,” he began quietly, breath tickling your quivering lips, “don’t cry… I want you to do something for me, can you?” The immediate nod of your head had Taeyong’s soft and fond smile appearing, a smile so familiar to you, unlike how he was tonight. “The safe word that we use for me… you remember it right? I want you to remember if for yourself tonight, okay?" 

A small noise sounds from the back of your throat and you blink once, clearing your head when you reply soft and firm. ”Yes.“ 

Taeyong’s smile is warm, reaching his darkened orbs and making way for pure sunlight, so bright and staring down at you when he says, "good girl” before leaning in to give you a kiss so tender you feel tugs at your heart bringing about a painful ache. 

He parts with a heavy breath and in a moment the light in his eyes flicker until it has completely faded. “I want you to crawl, my love. And don’t stop till I tell you to." 

Your heart skips a beat, eyes trained on his when you lower to your knees. His throat bobs when he swallows, the sight of you staring up at him, so pliant, so beautiful, encouraging that chemical high to fill his body. Your eyes flutter, lashes touching your skin, becoming demure and looking away from his eyes to the floor when you begin to move.

It’s a weird sensation; you knees pressing to the hardness of your floor, the chill running up your body, feeling the linger of Taeyong’s eyes watching the way your body moves slow, the way you are half displayed, arousal coating you, dress creased and shifting. 

Just as you approach the first step, your body bows inward and a harsh startled pain filled gasp parts from your lips, pushed out when the palm of Taeyong’s hand cracks against the flesh of your arse. You still, shaking inches away from the stairs.

Another slap echoes in the eerie quiet and then his voice comes, "keep moving, baby. Don’t stop for nothing." 

Glossy lips quiver, body flushing with aroused heat and then you’re willing your limbs onwards. Your palm lays on the cool of your oak steps, a tingle of sharp shards striking your warmth when you push yourself up the stairs.

At the fourth step his hand comes down heavy again, and at the fourth step your voice breaks as do your movements, hips pressing to the edges of the stairs. "Do I have to repeat myself, baby?”

No. 

It is halfway up the stairs, skin near burning at the sensation of Taeyong’s continued strikes that he croaks good girl and slips two fingers that curl and hook, as if to push you along faster, yet breaks your pace and has your gripping the hardwood with a mewl. 

Taeyong doesn’t have to repeat himself, the feeling of him inside you urges you to move quicker, so much so that he nearly slips from your heat. The bass of his groan feeds into you, desire heavy in the air, surged on with each slap against your skin, with the sound of liquid honey stirring with the push and pull of fingers determined to guide and to taunt until you feel the contraction of muscles deep within.

“You can do it baby. You’re a Queen right? This is light work.“ He scoffs, tone patronising when he looks down at your tiring body, watching you stretch your hand out for that last step, so close, nearly there, until, a hand presses down between your shoulder blades and his fingers are anything but still. 

"JESUS- FUCKFUCKFUCK” God please I’m right there.

“Get up. You have one more step.” 

“Nononotaeyongnopleaseplease” Again. He denied you again. His shadow cast over your body, weak on the steps, subtly trembling and silently crying for yet another orgasm lost. 

 “Oh, do you feel a huge loss? I’m not sure I can help you baby, it’s gone now. I’m not very good at keeping things.” Ignoring your pleas, he slowly bent down, lips closing in on your ear. “Get up my Queen, or will I have to help you?” The dangerous undertone had you freezing up. You were still not used to this Taeyong; to his touch filled with dark lust, to that dulcet tone you were accustomed to now completely faded for something rough, gravelly, his tongue sharp, his eyes akin to a black hole ready to swallow you, it was all so foreign. 

“Help it is.” He hushed, fingers sliding into your hair and all but dragging you over that last step, ignoring your startled cry, or your hands reaching for his. 

Your knees burned and when Taeyong finally came to a stop in front of the hallway mirror you collapsed at his feet. 

“You want a king? Suck this dick like I’m the only one worthy of you, my Queen.” Your glossy eyes stared up at him, already looking down at you whilst his hands busied themselves with his belt and zipper. You swallow the dryness in your throat, shifting on your knees until you were half up, with a hand balanced on his thigh and your other grabbing for his half hard length as soon as he had shifted his boxers lower. 

Taeyong’s throat bobbed harshly, dark eyes taking in the rare sight of you unkempt, hair askew, faintest trails of black in your dried tears, but most of all, those eyes. Wide and so eager, so ready to please him. 

Your tongue flattened from his base and dragged up to his tip, your eyes locked on his face as you tapped his dick against your tongue, then closed your mouth around his tip, allowing saliva to dribble out of your mouth. Your fist twisted up and down, mouth focused on suckling the head of his dick, drawing a pretty moan from Taeyong’s pink lips.

His hands came up to cup your cheeks, his stare turning more affectionate, thumbs sweeping back and forth gently on your skin. “You’re so perfect,” He whispered. “So beautiful, so stunning, my God.”

His hands shift into your hair as you begin to follow your hand down his length, taking in more and more steadily. 

Taeyong’s mouth gapes, watching you with furrowed brows, totally engrossed in the sensation your lips wrapped around him brings, his arousal only spiking at the sound of his dick rutting against your soft spot. 

“Fuck, baby, you’re so good with your mouth.” His fingers tighten in your hair and he slowly drags your head further down, feeling your throat constrict at the invasion. “It’s a shame you have to say dumb shit isn’t it?” He grunts, dragging you backward slowly, then down again, taking his time, ensuring you make his dick nice and wet. Your whimper does not deter him from his attempt to breach your throat, his grip firm when he pulls you down again, slow, ensuring each inch is felt when he slips down the back of your throat, gently holding you in place even as you splutter around him, body wanting to recoil away from him, but Taeyong would not allow that, nestling deep as possible. 

Your eyes squeeze shut, the tears that had pooled in your eyes sliding down your face and meeting the drool spilling past your lips. He draws back carefully, letting his tip rest in your mouth, allowing you a few seconds to inhale through your nose and then carefully sliding in deep again, repeating this rhythm of slowly filling your throat, of letting his length block your airways. 

“So goddamn beautiful, yet so fucking infuriating.” His voice has become shaky, breathy and distant whispers as he watches you. Follows the gentle slide of his dick, of your mouth stretching around him, how you were becoming ruined, dirtied by your own spit, by your running makeup. “Always doubting me, my Queen. Do I look like a king yet?" 

The moment your eyes roll back, a weird sensation passes over you. There is a heavy pressure in your head, making you feel as if your skull could implode, your heart is as erratic as your body panics at the lack of air, but then it is as if a wave of calm washes over you, vision becoming fuzzy until it feels as if the black edging your eyes would take over completely. 

Your body hits the floor. Eyes unfocused, head lulling around against the hard surface, your head so disoriented you don’t even notice how hard your body is heaving to fill your lungs with air to prevent you from passing out after being denied oxygen for so long. 

Taeyong immediately crouches down, sweeping his hand beneath your head and allowing it to rest on his thigh, caring hands stroking your cheek, cooing at you. "Shh, breathe baby. You’re okay, you’re okay, I’m here, I’m here, always here.” Your eyes finally stop rolling and you find the ability to focus on his voice and his voice alone, clinging to it as the blackness fades and you finally stabilise your breathing. 

You blink the remaining tears away and find Taeyong, your sweet, sweet angel Taeyong looking down at you with the gentlest smile. “You good?” He asks quietly. Swallowing hard, you whisper back, “I’m good." 

He leans down to close the gap, stealing your breath in an entirely different way when your lips meet, a soft collision that felt like sinking into a pillow of clouds, warm emotion wrapping around the two of you. He pulls back with his eyes closed, his breath fanning your face when he breathes out and opens his eyes to stare adoringly at you again. "We aren’t finished yet, my Queen." 

Taeyong keeps control when he pushes you to sit up and when he strips you of your dress and underwear. His hands travel your body as if he is exploring a newfound beauty that God has blessed him with, fingers kissed by angels and fluttering like their wings. His fingers tickle up your neck and flick off your chin and you find yourself wanting to say take me my king.  

Instead, you are silent, awaiting his next move; he shifts on his knees behind you, until he is able to drape himself over your body, his weight a false security blanket, clothed chest brushing the sweaty expanse of your back, a hand, one finger at a time laying the curve of your neck, thumb and fingertips against your jaw, keeping your head up and making eye contact in the mirror. This way you are able to see the dark depths of his eyes as he guides his length to your dripping folds, his tip playing against your slit, up and down, brushing against your clit, until finally, you feel him press against your entrance, your walls already clenching, eagerly waiting to be filled. 

The first inch is euphoric, the first hint of stretch welcomed. The second inch, dizzying, lips pulled between teeth and eyes glossing over, out of focus but completely engrossed in the sensation at the same time. The third, filling you just as slow, is maddening, your warm heat attempting to swallow more of him in, body doing the begging for you. Inch after inch only aggravates the trembles, only sedates your tense muscles until you are slack and at complete mercy to his penetration. When he finally bottoms out, it is a feeling indescribable, to be one with him, to be completely full of him. 

“How does that feel, my Queen? Is my dick serving your sweet little cunt well?” An almost distressed moan leaves your lips, nails scratching at the floor in desperation.  Taeyong leans even further over you until your chest presses down to the floor,  your head resting to the side and all you can see is your tear stained face clutched by his hand. The first pull of his length feels like a shock, your body feeling yourself become empty, and Taeyong kisses your cheek, lips hotly resting by your ear when he slowly fills you up again.”Tell me my love. Is this what you wanted? Is this how you like your king?” He punctuates his next words by slowly sliding back into you again. “To own your pussy? To make you a mess? To make you cum so hard you forget how to function?”

Your breath hitches and as he pushes that last inch back in you gasp an airy, fucked out yes, voice not even sounding like your own. He chuckles against your ear, a new kind of shiver wracking through your being at its deepends, its sinister undertone. And that’s when he fucks you harder. Dragging his length back slow only to rut into you with one hard thrust that shakes every inch of your being. 

“Oh, my lovely queen you feel so fucking good. I could stay buried in you forever.” He rasps out, another harsh push of his hips. You feel drool slide out of your gaping mouth, you can see your eyes, murky and dark, so foreign as they stare back at you in the mirror. And Taeyong. You can see Taeyong’s eyes running your sweaty and pliant form in your reflection, the way your body responds to him, the way he makes you feel, the way he is taking you as he should: Like you are his. 

“Don’t you have anything to say now? C’mon my dear Queen, give me some tips on leadership” He suddenly sits up, pulling you up by your jaw, making you watch the tears stream down your face, his cock slowly sliding in and out of you as you babbled. “Don’t tell me, you’ve become totally incoherent for my dick baby? You really can’t think? Oh? But you were so snappy back then, so quick to bring up my lack of shortcomings. But here you are, a limp mess.” He hisses into your ear, dark eyes staring you down. 

“Too inexperienced.” He drags up back to meet his harsh thrust.

“Weakness.” He growls, circling his hips against your soft flesh, his dick rubbing against your walls. 

“Imsorryimsorrypleaseimsorry” You slur, clenching your jaw when a sudden wave of something electrifying runs through you. 

“What was that?” He hisses, pulling you up against his chest.

"I-I’m sorry.” You whimper. “You are my king. You’re mine.” You whisper, looking up at him, turning your head as much as you can under his grip to press a soft kiss to his jaw. 

Taeyong silently shifts, eyes never leaving yours. He brings his other hand up to join your jaw, fingers interlocking atop your neck to keep your head back looking up at him. His lips rest on your forehead, hot and heavy pants and engulfing eyes staring back into yours and as he witnesses the desperation in your eyes shift into something more he rolls his hips, sinfully slow hitting hard and that precise moment when he’s near;y as deep as he can be inside of you, he pushes hard, pressing his hips tightly against your backside, and this is how he continues, fluid slow and hard thrusts fucking into you, the slight pressure on your throat making you feel lightheaded and as if you were on the verge of floating away. 

Taeyong grunts, pulling your head back further if possible, moving his face down to lick into your mouth, to kiss your lips carefully and soft and swallow your sounds each time rattles your body with the strength of his strokes and in a sudden, overwhelming moment, your skin is alight, your eyes are rolling to the back of your head and your pulse is in your ears, a loud thump thump as your blood rushes and you shake in Taeyong’s arms so much so you’re afraid you will fall apart as you cum at long last. 

Taeyong allows your body to fall to the floor, his chest immediately pressing down on your back whilst his hand scrambles for yours to press it further into the floor and he begins to rut faster against you, panting and groaning and moaning all kinds of sweet melodies in your ear, his other hand reaching down and grabbing your hip to lift for his hand to slide under and find your clit. You cry out, broken and weak as his fingers  incessantly rub circles and he continues fucking into you, murmimg word sin your ear that you can’t even process and as he pushes deeply into you, you feel the spurts of his orgasm filling you up, his groan fanning over your skin as he collapses atop of you, fingers still on your slit until he can’t feel your walls spasming around him again. 

It seems like forever until he rolls off of you, staring up at the ceiling panting while you lay immobile on your stomach. 

After a moment of gathering himself, Taeyong looks over at you, gulping before deciding to roll over and gently press his lips to your shoulder, his delicate fingers carefully moving the hair plastered to your face out of the way.

“Are… are you okay?”

“Hmm…” You reply after a few seconds, voice croaky, blinking the fuzziness from your eyes. “I am sorry you know… But in this busi-” 

“I know.” Taeyong is silent for a moment, thinking over his words. “I know my place,” He finally sighs, “I was just… Hurt… I thought you would have spoken to me first, but when you acted cold and called me out… it hurt.” 

“I know, I didn’t mean to hurt you… Next time I won’t interfere… What did they say anyway?” 

Taeyong turns his cheek to the side resting against your warm skin. “I explained everything to them. I told them how I had sorted it. They were happy.”

“You…You sorted it? How?” You shift and Taeyong lifts his head, watching as you turn your head to face him. 

Smirking, “If you had spoken to me first, you would have known how. I’ll tell you everything in the morning.” He promises, sweetly pecking you on the lips. He rests his head on the floor next to your head, the both of you quietly staring into each other’s eyes and you feel your eyes threatening to close when Taeyong brings his hand up to massage his fingers through your hair. “Let’s go to bed, I don’t fancy sleeping out here.” Taeyong moves to stand and then reaches out to help you and you pause, narrowing your eyes at him. “You’re still the little spoon.”

Taeyong’s eyes glittered as if the sun had caught the stars waiting in them, lips pulled back in a wide, adoring grin. “Of course, my Queen." 

#nct smut #nct 127 smut #taeyong #taeyong smut #kpop smut #rani writes #pictures in the board do not belong to me

[fallenfurther]

You can’t save everyone

The next part to my FabFiveFeb-Alan Entry. Alan’s not fixed yet but I had to show the brother’s responses. They are on there way. I will fix him. 

Warning: Hinting and reference to Character death

****

".... everyone." Scott finished but the feed was gone. "Alan!? John! What happened?"

John's hologram appeared next to the visualisation of the two ships. John didn't look happy. "He's turned off the com on both Three and his wrist."

"Grgh!" Scott roared, "That boy is going to be in serious trouble when he gets back! He knows the rules!"

Scott fumed, and sat down hard on the sofa. He noted the worried look he got from Brains out the corner of his eye and tried to calm down a little. Damn it, Alan! You know better than this! Scott crossed his arms over his chest and watched the feed, John's hologram now gone. He knew his brother would be trying everything to get back in contact with Alan. But until then, all Scott could do was watch the small hologram of Thunderbird 3 continue the rescue. Worry sat deep in Scott's gut as be watch Thunderbird 3 manoeuvre around the spiralling cargo ship. It was never the safe cargo that got into situations, was it? Always the delicate stuff that could blow a hole in the side of a hull. The ship's design didn't help, with multiple smaller sections sticking out that were obviously not part of the original design. Brains' was muttering about it under his breath, as he watched his own design pushed to its limits. The man's eyes also glued to the protection.

"He can't do it! He won't be able to move out the way!" Brains exclaimed standings up. Scott looked at the man, whose face was one of horror, obviously having done the calculations in his head, before looking back at the projection. Quiet 'Oh no's' came from his companion. Grandma sat down beside Scott and took his hand. Virgil and Gordon were on a rescue and Scott was thankful they didn't have to watch their youngest brother do something stupid. Alan was doing tremendously well manoeuvring Three; however, he must not have seen the amber warning over one of the added-on sections go red. A few seconds later and it exploded, swivelling the ship straight into Thunderbird 3. They watched in horror as Brains' pulled up the readings that were being transmitted from Three.

"One thruster is destroyed, and the other c-could function but not for long. Certainly not long enough to land. The ion engine is undamaged, s-so he'll still be able to get back to Earth’s orbit."

Scott's heart was in his throat as he watched the hologram of his brother's rocket move in close to the cargo ship. He knew it was currently manoeuvring using thrusters, but it still felt like it was limping. Thunderbird 3 would be out of commission for a while. They'd have to dock it with Five until parts could be transported up. Damn it! It was going to take time and hassle to do that! Scott put his head on his free hand and took a deep breath. He wanted to start pacing, yet he had to watch, he had to make sure Alan was safe. His Grandma rubbed his back, and he looked at her. The worry on her face added more to his load, and Scott turned away to watch the now steady Thunderbird 3. It looked like Alan had managed to grasp the other ship, so they moved together. With no more detail than what was in front of him, Scott took both his Grandma's hands in his and waited anxiously for Thunderbird 3 to move away and head home.

***

John watched the hologram in the observation room. EOS was fielding calls, fully aware that John couldn't concentrate on anything but his brother. She may not be human, but she was starting to understand their complex emotions. EOS also knew John. She knew that he would monitor everything, even the smallest details, to make sure his brothers were safe and aware of any perils. Then there were times like this, when his brothers pushed themselves further than they should, and the concern crept into his face. EOS knew not to speak up. John was focused and would startle. Instead, she predicted what he would want and need, and monitored Virgil and Gordon, who thankfully were just tidying up their rescue. She was thankful she could do many things at once, and she flipped between each task swiftly.

EOS tried the scanners again, trying to work the code to make it clearer and to pick up life signs. She knew what John needed to know, but it seemed that she just couldn't give it to him. She wanted to blow the scanners circuit in retaliation for not working as she wanted it to but held back as John's heartbeat picked up. She was at his side immediately, ready to compute anything he desired.

***

John flicked through the readings coming from Thunderbird 3. He could only get the basics on the limited data stream they had, and there was a delay due to the distance. Scrolling through the damage to the engines caused John's heart to sink. It was going to be a big repair job. John was glad he wasn't on the island right now. Scott would be fuming and worried, which was never a good combination. He could imagine quite clearly his eldest brother pacing back and forth, and the exhausted sighs he'd be making. It was like Tracy Island had its own resident tornado at times. John sighed. He didn't envy the responsibility on Scott's shoulders, and considering all, Scott handles it as well as he can. John flipped back to the engine readings, he knew Brains had read through them, so he didn't have to inform Scott of the situation. The ion engine popped up. All were within range, but they weren't active. John left these up and went back to the hologram. He wanted to be the first to know when Thunderbird 3 moved.

Another explosion from the cargo ship made John's heart jump.

"Come on, Alan. Get out of there." John said to himself. Eyes on the warning signs, indicating the weaker points and volatile parts of the ship. Why did people think they could get away with such poor modifications and not jeopardise safety? He floated impatiently waiting for Thunderbird 3 to move. His eyes flitted over the diagram as two more of the orange hazard lights turned red. Seconds later, they exploded, tearing the cargo ship apart and sending shrapnel towards Thunderbird 3. John eyes were glued to the hologram as the part attaching Thunderbird 3 to the ship came away. Alan, get out of there! John willed, as more warning lights went red and another explosion occurred sending more wreckage at Thunderbird 3.

Out the corner of his eye, John saw one of the sensors change. The fuel temperature sensor was no longer producing a reading. Fear filled John. Alan should be able to fly without the sensor, but what if it indicated damage that they couldn't see? The indicators changed in front of his eyes, and relief filled him. The ion engine was starting up, Alan was on Three! John flipped the sensor display away, zoomed in on Three and he watched for movement. A smile crept on his face as the rocket started moving away from the exploring ship. His eyes stayed on it as he waited for Alan to clear the blast radius, the fuel sensor forgotten, and already thinking ahead to welcoming his brother onto Five.

Then he watched it happen. The hologram of Thunderbird 3 flickered as the sensors struggled to keep up with the changes. John watched as Thunderbird 3 was torn apart. The explosion tore up the side, along the fuel and oxygen pipes. John quickly pulled up the readings from Three, but there were none transmitting. His baby brother was on Three. He knew the cabin was self-contained with its own oxygen supply, but it wouldn't last long, a day at max. Most of the oxygen was carried in the main body. That was assuming the cabin hadn't been breached. John accessed Thunderbird 5's sensors and tried to boost them, frantically setting them to scan for life signs. He needed to know if Alan was alive. He had to find his baby brother. But it was just too far away, and John closed his eyes and held his head in his hands.

Alan.

Not Alan.

John was brought out his thoughts by a call from the island. He snapped himself to, took a deep breath and slipped into professional mode, pushing the pain deep down. He answered the call and he came face to face with the terrified hologram of his eldest brother.

"Tell me he's okay, John. Tell me you can get a reading on him." Scott's voice was desperate.

John looked into his brother's eyes and said nothing. John watch Scott crumple and fall into the sofa, and he knew Scott was running through options. The same options that were now running through his head.

“It too far for me to go in the exosuit. We need to find a vessel willing and able to take us there. EOS, scan the area and check the GDF log of authorised and unauthorised ships that are in orbit and a day’s flight from Thunderbird 3.”

“Right away, John.” His dependable AI replied. John turned back to Scott. He had to give Scott something to do, otherwise he’d pace a hole in the floor of the villa, though he might do that anyway.

“Scott, get onto Colonel Casey. Explain the situation and see if they have any vessels up here or on the ground that we might be able to use.”

“FAB.”

Scott’s hologram disappeared and John’s head dropped. They all knew the odds. They would all tell themselves this was a rescue, but deep down, their hearts were breaking. John wiped away the tear he couldn’t stop and turned to EOS. A nod and a list of vessels, their routes and maximum speeds were listed in front of him, along with a hologram of all their locations in respect to the remains of Thunderbird Three.

“Thank you, EOS.” John started the task of assessing which vessels could help them and contacting them.

***

EOS watched John work. She had only stopped to inform him that Virgil and Gordon were back on the Island. Continuing to field calls elsewhere, she had listened in when Scott had sat his brothers down and broken the news. Gordon had struggled to believe it, and he and Virgil watched the holograms. EOS had learnt how each brother showed and expressed pain, and she could see it in all three. Grandma had comforted Virgil and Scott had sat down with Gordon. Scott had explained what the plan was, and after a short time of sitting in silence, the younger Tracys disappeared in different directions. EOS fielded Gordon’s call to Penelope, who changed her plans and had Parker fly straight to Tracy Island. There was tension and worry in every Tracy, and EOS had concerns about John. She monitored his bio-readings, breaks, meals and sleeping patterns. He was overdue a meal by two hours now, and she was starting to see the effects of mild dehydration, but the look on his face as he worked told her she shouldn’t inform him.

EOS continued to monitor the wreckage. She was aware that Thunderbird Five’s scans couldn’t be improved, but she still scanned. Hope was an amazing thing for humans. She’d learnt that first-hand, and she wanted to give it to John. There was nothing new in her last scan, just wreckage moving as it should. EOS scanned again, then analysed every byte of data that came from them. She analysed it again. Something was different. There was a blip. One piece of the wreck had moved in a direction it shouldn’t have. It was only a fraction out, nothing to concern John with, but she noted it for later. Five minutes later she ran the scan again. The wreckage had moved further in the wrong direction. She rechecked the data. Whether it was significant, she couldn’t tell, but John was on a call to a nearby vessel, and it could wait. The call lasted a while, and another five minutes passed, and another scan was performed. The blip was definitely moving, and EOS plotted its trajectory. It was heading for Earth.

***

John hung up. Another ship wanting to help but unable to due to the superiors wanting the schedule to be kept. They considered it a recovery. That meant it wasn’t a priority. Well it was for him! It was his little brother out there. Lost in space. Anger churned inside him. Anger at the lack of help, anger that his brother was lost, anger the he couldn’t do more. John took a breath and tried not to let it surface. He had a job to do.

“John.”

“Yes, EOS.”

“Something has shown up on my scans.”

John looked up at EOS, gazing into the lens and seeing his reflection. He turned to the holograms before him.

“Show me.”

The picture changed and EOS highlighted a small scrap of debris on it. EOS displayed the time next to it and then flipped through the scans from the past forty minutes. John saw what she saw. The wreckage changed direction. Only something with an engine could do that. It was a flicker, a small spark of hope in his heart. Alan was a Tracy. John zoomed in, but the scan struggled to resolve the image. A quick run through Thunderbird 3’s inventory and the idea came to him.

“It’s moving a little too fast to be Alan on his board, but it could be the space pod. I would expect it to go faster if configured, but if damaged it might be slower, or if not configured, the basic engine would go about that fast.”

“A space pod would not have enough fuel or oxygen to get back to Earth.” EOS stated.

“But if we, or someone, could meet it halfway we might just…”

John could feel it now, the hope. He headed back to the list of vessels, trying to find one that might just be able to make a detour. As he was searching, a call came from Tracy Island. John accepted it and was greeted by Scott.

“There is a small spacecraft attached to Global One. Colonel Casey and the GDF are going to allow us to use it. It should be able to get you there and back. There is a shuttle being prepared now, but it won’t be able to launch until tomorrow. I’ll be on it and will meet you when you return to transport Alan back to Earth.”

EOS brought the information on the GDF vessel up in front of him, and John scanned the data. His eyes fell on the maximum velocity. It really was a small ship.

“Scott, it’ll take almost two days to reach Thunderbird Three in this ship. Alan won’t have that much time.”

The sorrow in Scott face tore into John.

“I know, but we have to bring Alan home.”

“FAB.”

John cut the link and looked at the last scan of the wreckage.

“You didn’t mention the pod.” EOS stated and John swore he could see the confusion in her lens.

“I don’t want to give him false hope. There is limited oxygen on the space pod. There is no guarantee we’ll make it in time.”

#fabfivefeb #fabfivefeb2020 #thunderbirds are go #alan tracy #john tracy #scott tracy #stranded in space #heartbreak #i will fix him #his brothers are coming

[roswelldetails]

Episode 201: Stay (I Missed You) - Details

Episode Summary:

Torn between the heartache of Max’s (Nathan Parsons) sacrifice and the joy of Rosa’s (Amber Midthunder) resurrection, Liz (Jeanine Mason) suppresses her grief to focus on moving out of Roswell with Rosa. Meanwhile, Michael (Michael Vlamis) copes with Max’s death in his own self-destructive way, while Isobel (Lily Cowles) focuses her attention on honing her alien powers. Finally, Liz makes an alarming discovery after Rosa begins experiencing mysterious side effects from her resurrection. Michael Trevino, Heather Hemmens, Tyler Blackburn and Trevor St. John also star. Lance Anderson directed the episode written by Carina Adly MacKenzie.

DETAILS:

They left Noah's body by the cliff near the turquoise mines

Max tells Liz specifically that Noah called him a savior, and that the victors would be coming for him, and specifically the term alighting.

2 weeks later...

A guy is seen trying to scrub graffiti off the wall. The graffiti is an alien saying to a ghost "I don't believe in humans." Rosa's?

Arturo is working on his citizenship paperwork.

"...the occasional face mask selfie..." Once again, like in the pilot with the reference to the border wall, Carina writes a line that she had no idea would be quite so relevant on the day that this aired. Maria is referring to lab face masks, not medical face masks, but given the current state of things it's still quite the on point line, politically.

The card Arturo gives Liz is San Cristobal (Saint Christopher). Info on San Cristobal: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saint_Christopher?wprov=sfla1

What Arturo says to Liz in Spanish: "Para que te cuide en el camino." Translates to: To take care of you on the way.

The church where the funeral is held is the same church Liz prayed at in episode 102... Loretto Chapel in Santa Fe. It actually is a pretty interesting place, which you can tour if you visit Santa Fe. https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Loretto_Chapel?wprov=sfla1

The photo Isobel looks at is a shot of Max, Isobel, and Noah at what appears to be their wedding.

Isobel is the one hiding Max's death. Liz and Michael are helping, but Isobel wanted him put in the pod. "...we'll make up a story, okay? We'll send text messages from his phone. We'll say that he left town."

Sheriff Valenti tells Isobel that she's "Roswell PD family", but in season 1 they were very consistent about using Chavez County Sheriff's Department, not Roswell PD.

Another reference to the graffiti... Again, Rosa?

Liz had to prompt Isobel to tell at her at the wake, meaning this is them implementing Isobel's "story" on why Max left.

Liz told Rosa "everything except that the whole town thinks she's a murderer."

Rosa's first nightmare... She walks into the Crashdown, plays STP, reveals the handprint, the jukebox sparks and distorts, hears Isobel's voice, and Noah appears.

"They're not going to come after you. They're going to go after the people you care about." - Noah said this to Max in 107 in reference to Wyatt Long's lawyers.

Rosa's necklace that she and Liz argue over is the turquoise bead necklace that Liz wears throughout S1, including in the pilot, So Much For the Afterglow,

Mimi Deluca...

Quoted from Aliens (1986) "I say we take off and nuke the site from orbit."

On Rosa's death a decade ago: "Not always. Sometimes it happened just yesterday. Sometimes it's been a century."

Rosa started on oxy. But according to Kyle's scans her "frontostriatal loop is fine." And she produces "normal noradrenaline". Basically, Max healed all damage to her body including damage from her drug addiction.

Alex is listening to Next Time by All the Brightness on his headphones. Thanks @michaeldeluca for figuring it out!

Alex says that most of the Caulfield files are encrypted so there's not much to go on, but he was able to break Project Shepherd's encryptions in the bunker in S1, which again implies that maybe Caulfield is a bit bigger than Project Shepherd.

Michael's mother was marked N37. Her intake form was datestamped Oct 12, 1948, which is almost a year and a half after the crash (June 14, 1947).

Liz and Michael both didn't get handprints from Max, only Rosa. Liz's initial handprint from Max (in the pilot) lasted only a few days. Rosa's hasn't faded at all in 2 weeks.

Isobel's been practicing for 2 weeks and she showed signs of both Michael and Max's powers in this episode (possibly? exploding the lights in her house and blowing up the bowls could both be Michael's power if it was just telekenisis in both cases and not channeling electricity a'la Max)

Mamma Ortecho is "shacked up in Nebraska with some white guy named Dirk."

Michael says that he fixed the old (junked) ultrasound machine after Max died. That they did scans initily while Isobel was in the pod and they were working on the antidote. He had a scan of Max's healthy heart. Now "there's a void".

Michael says Max's heart was damaged before he "lassoed lightning" to kill Noah. He died of a heart attack. His heart is "shredded".

Rosa's 2nd dream: running from Noah and calling Liz to help her.

Noah says: "Strange creatures with familiar features. The alighting! They're coming for us Maximo!" All things he said to Max in the cave in episode 113.

Liz theorizes Rosa's dreams are the result of a psychic connection through the handprint to Max, that Rosa is seeing fragments of Max's memories.

Which means that Max's brain isn't fully dead. Liz explains to Rosa:. "if there's a part of his brain with coordinated electrical signaling, if there's consciousness, that means that there's oxygenated cells...if the connection to you kept his brain alive there's hope."

Cremating an alien body releases toxic fumes (according to Project Shepherd research from after the 1947 crash).

Flint was taking Noah's body to Area 51...where he has clearance and Alex doesn't.

Flint says: "There's a chain of command in this family."

Flint Manes was in the same grade as Rosa (meaning he's two years older than Alex).

During the dissection:

Liz: "It could be some kind of organic phosphorus?

Michael: "It's an unknown chemical compound. A distant derivative of phenyl-2-propanone. I could never figure out the 21st compound. But apparently it's the key to their nanotech and their biology. Our biology. I always thought it was synthetic but if it's organic the tech itself could have neural activity."

Liz: "Wait, you're saying you think these organs are part tech?"

Michael: "In human terms, I guess."

Liz: "That's good 'cause in the human world, broken tech can be fixed."

Translation: The alien organs (and the ship pieces) are part organic and part tech.

Rosa's 3rd nightmare...she is in the gazebo looking at her and Izzy/Noah's drawings from 2008 (episode 110), Noah approaches and she fights back this time. And then Noah uses his powers to choke her.

"All those books and you haven't figured religion out." When he approaches.

"Ophiuchus!" Yelled as he chokes her.

Max appears and lightning-lassoes Noah to free Rosa.

"I've been trying to get to you. I'm sorry to put you through this. You're the only one I can reach. Liz can't bring me back to life. Do you understand? No matter what it takes you have to stop her."

MUSIC:

1. Everclear "Santa Monica"

2. Stone Temple Pilots "Plush"

3. Lukas Nelson & Promise Of The Real "Bad Case"

4. Justin Townes Earle "Maybe A Moment"

5. Meredith Brooks "Bitch"

6. I See Hawks In LA "King Of Rosemead Boogie"

7. Hamish Anderson "You Give Me Something"

8. The Cranberries "Zombie"

#roswell new mexico #episode 201 #stay (i missed you) #long post #episode details #rnm season 2 #rnm music

[rulesofthebeneath]

masters of our fates, chapter 1

@ajaysbhandari @pixelburied @itsbrindleybinch @awkwardalbatros @ravenclawpokegirl25 @lilmissperfectlyimperfect @witchiegirl @ajayforlife @furiouscloddonutpeanut

Grace glared into the mirror, trying to make the edge of the wig meet her natural hairline seamlessly. It was a futile effort-- it was always a futile effort-- but for some reason, this bothered her more today than it usually did.

Support group. The idea scared her, frankly. How was she supposed to go up in front of a whole bunch of people and tell them her life story? She could scarcely remember the last time she’d been onstage. Pre-diagnosis, for sure. Back in middle school, when she was just a bright-eyed thirteen-year-old trying her best to fit in.

Now sixteen, she looked into the mirror and shook her head. Three years seemed more like a lifetime ago, when she thought about how much had changed. How much she had changed.

She finally decided to just take the wig off and ran a comb through the layers of her hair cut into a long pixie. She didn’t like it, but it would have to do today. There was no use putting on airs for other teenagers that also had cancer. They’d see right through her ill-fitting wig that could only trick the most gullible. And anyways, her nasal cannula and the cart that she always dragged around with her that held her oxygen canister was a dead giveaway that something was very, very wrong with her.

Sixteen and dying, she thought to herself, seeing her humorless smirk reflected back at her. There had been a time when she was still soft inside. Grace liked that part of herself, but it hadn’t been strong enough to last through the chemotherapy, the surgeries, the doctor’s appointments where she was told she didn’t have long.

And yet, Grace thought, life keeps dragging me along. Like roadkill that got stuck to the bottom of a car tire.

She knew she wasn’t supposed to think like that. That was why her therapist told her mom about the support group that met in the auditorium of some old high school in town. It was the same one she would’ve ended up going to, if it weren’t for… everything else.

Her parents had taken her out of school upon her diagnosis of thyroid cancer, when she was 13. What had followed had been the worst years of her young life, poked and prodded and cut open and flushed with chemicals within an inch of death. That’s what they’d told her, at least. 

Her cancer had proven untreatable. Even though she underwent surgery to remove her entire thyroid, the cancer had already spread into her lungs and was slowly drowning her. Chemotherapy didn’t touch the tumors, and the aggressive rounds of every kind of drug that the doctors thought might help caused all her hair to fall out and all the fat on her body to disappear, leaving her skeletal. But even as the tumors grew and grew, even as her skin broke out in rashes and her ribs showed through her skin, even as she spent long nights drowning on fluid-filled lungs, her heart kept beating. 

Grace didn’t know why. And sometimes she wished it hadn’t. But it did, and a couple medical trials and a few experimental drugs later, the tumors had stopped growing. And Grace resurfaced, hacking the fluid up and out of her lungs, agonizingly and beautifully alive. Her doctors had called it a miracle, and her parents called it a blessing. Only Grace saw it as it truly was, though.

She saw the collateral damage that her family had faced. She knew her brushes with death had traumatized her twin brother, who was maybe the only person in the world who knew her better than she knew herself. And her parents had given up so much-- their diner, which had been their dream ever since they were newlywed twenty-somethings, had had to go so they could pay for Grace’s treatment. Now her father worked grueling hours as a line cook and her mother worked at a bookshop part time, but cared for Grace full time. 

In truth, Grace knew that she had only destroyed their lives. That although nobody would say it, it would’ve been easier had she succumbed to the water in her lungs.

But maybe not. If there was anything worse than dying of cancer, it was having a kid who died of cancer. Or a twin. No, Grace wouldn’t wish that on them. Even though she wished they cared less, she knew she meant the world to her family. And they meant the world to her, too. 

But sometimes, it was so hard to breathe.

She made the mistake of mentioning that statement to her therapist, which was what had brought her here. In the living room of her house, with her twin brother fishing their car keys out of a dish on the counter, getting ready to drive her to the school.

As they left the house and started into the warm Saturday morning, Grace squinted to shield her eyes from the brightness of the June sun. 

“You clearly aren’t getting out enough,” James said pointedly, though he grinned as he pressed the button on the key fob to unlock the door. “I don’t think I’ve seen you leave your bed at all this week.”

“Sleep fights cancer,” Grace mumbled as she climbed into the car, pulling her oxygen cart in after. She closed the door, making sure it didn’t shut on the line.

“Yeah, but I hear fresh air does too,” James replied. When Grace didn’t answer, he turned on the radio to a pop station. He reversed the car out of the driveway and onto the street they lived on, and they rode in silence.

Not five minutes later, though, James slammed the button that silenced the radio. Grace looked over at him, startled.

“You never smile anymore,” he said.

“I’m dying,” Grace retorted. She made to turn back around to the window, but her line got tangled around a button of her sweater and forced her to spend a few moments with shaky fingers untangling it.

“You’re not, though,” James said, taking advantage of her line malfunction to hold her captive in a conversation. “I mean, your body’s not perfect and your health still sucks, but you’re not gonna die anytime soon.”

“Thanks to a drug that’s expensive as hell,” Grace said, again trying to cut herself out of the conversation. James wouldn’t let it happen though.

“That’s not the point, and you know it,” he said, and even though his eyes were turned towards the road, Grace could feel them flashing with anger. “You were given a chance to live, and instead you just lay around sleeping and watching TV. I know you want to go out and do things, but you won’t let yourself. Why?”

Grace fumed. She was furious at her brother, because his words touched every frayed nerve in her brain. 

“I wish I had a dog instead of a twin,” she said finally. “At least a dog wouldn’t judge me.”

“You’d have to clean up its poop,” James said matter-of-factly.

“A small price to pay for getting to keep my secrets.”

James rolled his eyes, though both had calmed down enough for twin smiles to show on their faces.

“Make me a deal, and I’ll leave you alone about it,” James offered.

Grace raised an eyebrow. “What’s the catch?”

“Try to socialize at the support group,” he said. “It’s people like you. They won’t judge you. And besides, you already know Mrs. Silva.”

That was true. Their neighbor, Mrs. Silva, had gone through breast cancer a while back, and had relapsed when Grace was 14. Grace had heard that the high school where her kid, Rory, went had used the school play to raise money for her treatment. She was in remission now.

“Plus, maybe Rory will be there.”

Rory had been Grace’s and James’ childhood best friend, but Grace had lost touch with Rory post-diagnosis. She’d lost touch with pretty much everyone. James and Rory ran in different circles at school, but they spoke occasionally. Grace remembered how they’d run against each other for student body president, with Rory eventually winning when James threw his support behind them. In return, James was their vice president. It had all worked out for the best, but Grace was pretty sure the months leading up to it had been awful for James. She hadn’t been home enough to really pay attention to him, but she could tell he was stressed during his daily visits to her hospital room. She still held a lot of guilt in her heart for not being there for him during his time of need.

“If it means I get to binge-watch America’s Most Eligible once I get home, then fine. Deal. I’ll say a few words to Rory, and their mom.”

“Thank youuuuu,” James said in a sing-song voice, laughing. His laugh was infectious, one of the things Grace both loved and hated about him. She couldn’t resist, and giggled a little too. James noticed, and gasped dramatically.

“There’s your smile! I thought it had gone missing.”

Grace whacked him, but his athlete’s physique hardly noticed her weak attempt. Before James’ grin faded entirely, Grace saw that he had pulled up to the school and she got out as quickly as she could, careful not to tangle herself in her line again.

“Thanks for the ride, James,” she said.

“No problem. I’ll pick you up in an hour?”

Grace pressed her lips together and looked towards the sign that marked the building as Berry High School. Suddenly, she wanted to know what else she’d missed out on, besides the play and the election.

“No, I think I’ll get a ride home with Rory and Mrs. Silva, maybe get dinner with them. It’s been way too long since I’ve spent time with them.”

James grinned, and Grace swore that it lit up the entire day. Regardless of what he said to her, it had been way too long since he’d truly smiled either.

“Damn right it has. I’ll tell mom, and we’ll see you at home later.”

“See you.”

With that, Grace turned and walked through the doors of Berry High School. As soon as she crossed into the front lobby, she spotted the door to the auditorium, conveniently propped open for wheelchair users. She slipped inside as quietly as she could with the oxygen canister rattling around in the cart.

The theatre was decked out in red, the ruby-colored curtains that framed the stage complemented by the deep red seats. Grace ran her hand along the stained velour, wondering how old it was. Then, an enthusiastic voice pulled her out of her reverie.

“Is that Grace?!” the voice said, and then Rory Silva themselves stood up from one of the folding chairs placed in a circle on the stage. They ran down the stairs and threw themselves at Grace, nearly knocking her over with a massive bear hug. Grace was barely able to steady herself by gripping the edge of a seat tightly.

Rory soon noticed that Grace wasn’t hugging back, presumably because she held onto the theatre seat with a death grip and her oxygen cart with the other. They released her quickly, stepping back in horror.

“Oh god, Grace, I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?”

Grace forced a smile onto her face. She loved Rory like a sibling, but hadn’t expected to be so aggressively greeted within seconds of stepping into the auditorium. The interaction had winded her.

“No, don’t worry,” she managed. Rory nodded, but still looked wary.

“We’re all up here,” they said, gesturing towards the circle of chairs onstage. About half of them were filled, and Grace didn’t recognize any of the faces. One of them was staring at her, a healthy-looking boy wearing a blazer, jeans, and thick glasses. He had one eyebrow raised, and the whole look came off rather condescendingly to Grace. 

Great, she thought. Some asshole already doesn’t like me.

She broke eye contact with the boy and turned back to Rory.

“Come on up to the stage. We have a ramp set up and everything.”

Grace snorted, noting the presence of a girl in a wheelchair on the stage. “I sure hope you do.”

Rory laughed, and the two headed up towards the stage. Once Grace rolled her hand-cart up the ramp, which took more effort than she’d hoped, she was greeted by Mrs. Silva, a slight woman not much taller than Grace who was short herself, wrapping her into a tight hug. 

“It’s great to see you, my dear. We’ve missed you around the house, like when you and Rory were kids.”

“Well, we’re not exactly kids anymore,” Grace said, and then instantly regretted it as Mrs. Silva’s face fell slightly. God, Grace reprimanded herself silently. Why can’t you just fake your way through a conversation?

To Mrs. Silva’s credit, she recovered quickly. She put on a warm smile. “As a mother, I’ll always see Rory’s friends as the little kids who used to dig up my flowers.”

Grace smiled despite herself, then Mrs. Silva released her. Grace knew she needed to find somewhere to sit down soon, she could already feel herself getting weak. She sat down in the first chair she could find, directly across from Rory… and the boy who had been staring at her, who was now just eyeing her occasionally. It unsettled her, and she wrapped her sweater tighter around herself. She decided to stare back at him, to try and assert dominance, and he raised both of his eyebrows like he was amused. She didn’t dare break his gaze for fear of losing.

A few minutes and a couple people later, Mrs. Silva finally sat in the chair that she had been standing by. Grace tore her gaze away from the boy to face her, but she could still feel his eyes on her.

“Hi, everyone.” she started. “Thanks for coming today. My name is Brenda Silva, but you all can just call me Brenda.”

Like hell I will, Grace thought to herself. I’ve never called you anything other than Mrs. Silva, and I’m not going to stop now.

“I want to go around the circle and have everyone introduce themselves to start. Name, age, and diagnosis if you feel comfortable sharing that. I’ll start: as I said my name is Brenda, I’m forty six years old, and I have breast cancer, but I’ve been in remission for two years.”

She gestured to Rory to continue.

“Oh, um, hi, I’m Rory,” they said, smiling in their characteristic goofy way. “I’m seventeen, and, uh, I don’t have cancer but I’m here to support my mom.” They gestured to Mrs. Silva as deferentially as if she were royalty, making some in the circle let out a small laugh.

The next person to go was a small, bored-looking but rather pretty redhead. “My name’s Skye, I’m sixteen, and I had leukemia as a kid but I’ve been in remission for four years now,” she said, smiling slightly at the last few words. Grace was happy for her too- four years was almost a guarantee of total remission- but a pang of jealousy swiped through her as well. She tried to suppress it.

“Congratulations, Skye,” Mrs. Silva said warmly. “Here’s hoping for five.”

Skye’s eyes widened, but she accepted the comment and ducked her head. Once the attention was off her and onto the next person, she slouched down in her chair. It was clear that she didn’t want to be noticed or singled out. Grace tended to agree with her. There was a time where Grace lived for the spotlight, but that time had passed. 

She started thinking about texting James to make him come pick her up after all, but before she could surreptitiously dig her phone out of her back pocket, it was her turn to introduce herself.

“Hi, I’m Grace,” she started softly. “I’m sixteen too. My original diagnosis was thyroid, but it spread to my lungs.”

The others in the circle nodded, and the attention passed mercifully to the next person. Without meaning to, Grace found her eyes on the boy with the glasses again. He was looking at her with interest, almost as if he was trying to analyze her.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been staring when he looked away towards Mrs. Silva. Grace looked down at her lap.

Get a grip, she told herself. 

“I’m Ajay,” he said, introducing himself with a rather authoritative voice. “I’m seventeen, and I had osteosarcoma.”

“Had?” Grace asked before she could stop herself. Everyone turned towards her, and she turned red. Ajay’s eyes fixed on hers.

“Yes, had. I went into remission last summer after my lower leg was amputated.” He pulled up the hem of his jeans to show a clearly artificial ankle joint. Grace bit her lip and looked away, embarrassed. 

From what she knew about it, osteosarcoma was rarely terminal, but it usually took an amputation to check you out of the hospital. She felt bad for having judged him just because he looked healthy, and she knew exactly how frail she must look with her cannula and her face puffy from the miracle drug. In contrast, he stood tall and bore no signs of the illness that had taken his leg, save for the prosthetic. His hair looked smooth, not a single hair out of place unlike her messy hairdo, and she found herself starting to wish that she had at least tried to put the wig on.

Stop thinking about him, she told herself, and she turned to watch Mrs. Silva as she started a conversation about something or other. Grace effectively zoned out, an action she’d mastered during the long lonely hours of recovery in the hospital or through the chemotherapy treatments. It was second nature by now.

By the time Ajay spoke up again, Grace didn’t know how much time had passed, but his voice startled her into consciousness. 

“I just don’t see the point of optimism,” he was saying, “if we’re all going to die anyway.”

“Ajay,” Mrs. Silva said quietly, in a warning tone.

Grace’s blood started to boil, and she knew she was overreacting, but she couldn’t stop it. He wasn’t going to die. His cancer was in remission, he’d been given that chance at life that Grace hadn’t been. Who was he to think he could own cynicism?

“That’s easy for you to say,” Grace retorted, and she watched as his gaze met hers, his eyebrows lifted up again in that amused way, which just made Grace more mad.

“What’s easy for me to say?” he asked, a slight smirk at the edge of his lips. Grace narrowed her eyes.

“That we’re all going to die anyway. I’m dying every day, and you got another chance at life.” As she said the words, she became aware that she was unintentionally repeating her brother’s point from earlier, in the car.

He cocked his head to the side, looking like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t. He simply watched Grace, like she was an interesting TV show. She bit off her next words with all the malice she possessed.

“Don’t tell me what it’s like to die, since you get to live.”

“Grace--” Mrs. Silva tried to cut her off, but she was already done. She stared back down at her lap, twisting her hands together, avoiding Mrs. Silva’s eyes. There was no way she could ride home with them now. Not now that she’d said something really impulsive in front of Mrs. Silva’s whole support group. She was already regretting her words.

Mrs. Silva changed the topic and started to wrap up the meeting, and through it all, though Grace looked down, she could still sense Ajay’s eyes on her. As soon as the group finished the meeting, Grace was out of her seat like a shot, pulling her canister after her as fast as she could go until she was finally out of the building. 

Up against the wall, she panted until she regained her breath. As Rory and Mrs. Silva walked over to where their car was parked, and the others either drove or caught rides themselves, Grace remembered that she had no ride. She cursed audibly, and at that exact moment Ajay appeared just outside the doors of Berry High, a cane held in his left hand. An amused smile played on his lips.

“Need a ride?” he offered, clearly enjoying the way her eyes flashed at his words.

“I’m fine,” she said curtly, pulling her phone out of her pocket to text James. Before she could unlock the phone, though, he spoke again.

“You were right, you know. I shouldn’t be telling you how to live.”

Grace looked up.

“I shouldn’t be telling you how to live, either,” she argued back. “I barely know you.”

“Do you think we can fix that?” he asked, an eyebrow raised in what now seemed to be a curious gaze, rather than a condescending one.

Grace met his eyes for a few moments, then nodded slowly.

“I do need a ride,” she said. “I was supposed to ride home with Rory and get dinner at their house, but, well…” She gestured to the Silva’s car, already pulling out onto the main road.

“Oh, okay,” Ajay said, clearly not having expected that. “How long have you known Rory?”

“I’ve lived next door to them my whole life,” Grace said, biting her lip.

“Really? I’ve never heard them talk about you.”

Ouch, Grace thought. That was a hard blow, to know her childhood best friend never thought about her anymore, but she supposed it was fair. This meeting had been the first time she’d seen them in a few months, and that visit was hardly more than a half hour long.

“Oh,” she said, and Ajay turned to her as he seemed to realize he’d said something wrong. He opened his mouth, presumably to apologize, but Grace shook her head and he backed down.

“I am pretty hungry,” Grace said, staring off into the distance towards the Golden Griddle. Even when she was feeling her best, she could still be swept away by the waves of guilt over that. They had given up their dream, their pride and joy, just for her.

She would never be able to forgive herself for that.

“Let’s go get lunch, then. On me.”

Startled out of her self-imposed guilt trip, Grace simply stared at Ajay.

“I barely know you,” she managed, repeating herself from earlier.

“I thought we were fixing that?” he asked, both eyebrows raised. 

He thinks I’m quirky, Grace realized. That was fair enough.

“Sure, alright.”

Ajay shook his head.

“You’re a very… interesting person, Grace.”

Grace didn’t have a response to that, so when Ajay turned to walk towards his car, she followed him silently.

His car was the fanciest car she’d ever seen, and she couldn’t even figure out how much it must’ve cost. It was a sports car, but he clearly wasn’t really thrilled with it. In fact, once they got into the car, he turned to her before starting the engine.

“I’m not an asshole,” he said, causing her to laugh. “I know how it looks. But there’s a reason why I have this car. And it’s not because I’m a rich snobby asshole.”

“Oh? And what’s the reason?” Grace said through a big smile.

Ajay started the engine, which practically purred to life, and he wrinkled his nose at the sound.

“I can’t share all of my secrets,” he said simply, and backed out of the parking space.

Grace wanted to know more, but she dropped the subject. She actually kind of liked the mystery. One day, she’d be able to get that story out of him.

Wait, she thought. One day? You can’t think like that. Who knows what one day will be?

She shook her head, trying her best to enjoy the moment. The reminder of her circumstances creeped in around the edges, making everything foggy.

“Where to?” Ajay asked, and the fog thinned.

#im going to regret this #no introduction we die like men #i cannot for the life of me remember who's on my tag list anymore #im just tagging people who might read this #like: here: #*offers steaming pile of garbage* #if you don't like it blame taylor she told me to post it #if you've read this far congratulations: it's kind of a tfios au #but don't assume things about the plot #i still have a few tricks up my sleeve #reblog if you get the shakespeare reference in the title #Ajay Bhandari #ajay x mc #hssca #high school story fanfic #High School Story #high school story class act #choices #playchoices #choices fanfic #choices fanfiction #gloria writes #(writes steaming piles of garbage) #chapter 2 to follow cuz i already wrote that but when will chapter 3 be out? #nobody knows #not even me #not even my... finals goddamn test schedule knows #*sigh* #alright kids bye now #my fanfic

[violetnuisance]

Wake Up

pairing: Sal Fisher/Larry Johnson

rating: T

words: 3,224

summary: Sal rambles to Larry while the brunet’s in a coma.

a/n: Hi, my Sally Face discord server has monthly art/writing challenges. July’s theme was “Hospital,” so this is my submission. Here’s the link to the server: https://discord.gg/kYtz72e

Sal stood awkward, one hand clasped around the bouquet of peonies he had spray painted black while the other hand tightly gripped a “Get Well Soon!” card, no doubt creasing it. His mind felt numb as he stood and stared at his best friend who laid unconscious in the hospital bed that dominated the tiny room. Larry had definitely seen his better days. His hair was unkempt, sticking up every which way, and the dark circles underneath his eyes only seemed to worsen as his stay at the hospital progressed, having lasted two weeks already. Despite the doctors and nurses reassuring a stressed Lisa and Sal that Larry was in stable condition and would most likely make a swell recovery, the bluenet was still worried. Every day that passed that Johnson didn’t wake up, his stress only skyrocketed.

 What if Larry had severe brain damage that the doctors didn't notice? What if he woke up in a vegetative state? What if he didn’t wake up?

Sal tried to shake the thoughts and padded over to the small nightstand beside Larry’s bed. An array of wilted flowers and still-enveloped cards littered the desk. Sal tried not to think about how most of the bouquets would be dead by the time Larry woke up as he set his own down. The falsely black flowers stood out against the pink ones everyone else had left, and Sal felt a sort of sick satisfaction. Larry had told him about how someone needed to genetically engineer a solid black flower. He couldn’t remember the context of the conversation, but he remembered how much they had laughed about it. A smile threatened to tug at his lips from beneath his prosthetic, but the urge was quickly destroyed. He shouldn’t have left Larry alone that night.

Sal laid on his stomach on the treehouse’s splintered floor, a lit cigarette between his lips and his prosthetic at his side. Larry laid on his back beside him, shirt pushed up, exposing his stomach, as he stretched. The sun outside was quickly setting, but that didn’t mean Sal couldn’t still make out a trail of soft brown hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of the other’s jeans in the treehouse’s dimness. The sight made him itch, curiosity lighting him ablaze. He smushed the notion quickly forming in his head down and took the cigarette from his lips, blowing a trail of smoke. Larry looked at him, a dopey grin on his face. Something had piqued the brunet’s interest, and he rolled onto his side, facing Sal.

“We should shotgun, baby blue,” Larry laughed, voice airy and light. Sal rolled his good eye at him. 

“No one shotguns cigarette smoke,” Sal stated. His fingers brought the stick back up to his mouth. Over the years, he had become a master at hiding his reactions from Larry’s random quips. The brunet had the worst habit of cracking jokes that made Sal’s heart pitter-patter pathetically in his chest. Still, at the thought of Larry’s lips on his, he could feel the tips of his ears growing warm. Before the brunet could notice the pink tint, Sal turned his head and blew smoke into the other’s face. The bluenet let out a snort as Larry wrinkled his nose in slight disgust. “You act like you don’t smoke a pack a day.”

“Doesn’t mean the smell has grown on me,” Larry rebuffed, rubbing the back of his hand across his nose. Sal shook his head, bangs bouncing against his forehead.

“Are you trying to tell me I stink?” Larry laughed again, and the sound rumbled through Sal’s chest. He had always been especially fond of his friend’s voice, and Larry’s laughter always caused a weird sense of nostalgia to fall over him, like he was returning home after exploring the world for years. The brunet took the cigarette from Sal while he was lost in thought.

 “Don’t worry, we can stink together,” Larry assured, a wolfish grin on his face. Sal watched silently as Larry placed the cigarette between his lips before sucking gently. The bluenet should’ve seen the next action coming, but he really hadn’t.

“Oh, c’mon dude,” Sal groaned as Larry blew the smoke into his face. He waved a hand around dramatically, trying to clear the vapor. “You’re such a… such a rat!”

“Your vernacular never ceases to astound me, bluebird,” Larry mocked, passing the cigarette back to Sal. Sal took it in hand, watching in slight interest as Larry sat up before standing and walked over to the mini fridge he had hooked up. The shorter male’s interest turned to dread as his lanky friend pulled out a bottle, caramel liquid sloshing inside of it. 

“I thought you were stopping that,” Sal complained, the words pushing out automatically. His eyes narrowed as Larry used the end of his shirt to help pop the cap off the bottle. Immediately, the sickening cat-pee smell of beer assaulted Sal’s senses.

“I said I’d try to stop, and I did try,” Larry corrected before bringing the bottle to his lips. Sal cringed as he watched the other’s adam’s apple bob, swallowing the drink down. The shorter male grimaced and reached for his prosthetic. The brunet watched as Sal stubbed the cigarette out against the floor, leaving a burn mark. Larry had chastised him about it multiple times before, but Sal didn’t care at the moment. “Where are you going?”

Sal stared at Larry as he clasped his straps into place at the back of his head. “You know how I feel about your drinking problem,” he chastised, moving to his feet.

The bluenet had never been a fan of alcohol. Before his mom had passed, both of his grandparents on his dad’s side had been raging alcoholics. His mom wouldn’t let them see their grandkid unless they tried to recover. They chose the bottle. And then, after his mom’s death, his father had fallen into the same state. He drank his days away until Sal found him passed out on the floor from alcohol poisoning. After a few days in the hospital, his dad sobered up. As soon as they got back home, they both equipped themselves with plastic trash bags and threw out all the alcohol. Sal thought that would be the last he’d ever have to see of alcoholism, but now Larry was running down the same reckless path. The bluenet didn’t know why, and the other refused to open up to him.

“It’s not a problem-”

“Yes it is, Larry! How do you not see that?” Sal was fuming, his hands balled into fists at his sides. The brunet stood stiff, surprised by the emotional outburst. “There’s a difference between responsible drinking and alcoholism. And you, my friend, crossed that boundary months ago.” Sal’s voice came out quieter now, a tremble in his tone. He didn’t know if he was angry or despairful, but he knew the tears would start flowing either way if he didn’t leave. 

By god, he had hoped Larry would stop him on the way out, but the brunet hadn’t, and the next morning Sal got a phone call from Lisa, explaining that her son had gone into an alcohol poisoning induced coma.

Larry’s chest rose and fell with his breaths, and Sal wished the brunet would crack his eyes open and offer a coy smile, saying this was some prank all along. Of course, nothing of the sort happened. Sal’s gaze traveled to the plastic chair sitting at the bed’s side. Lisa had been sitting there before Sal came in, talking to the unresponsive male. Apparently the nurses had told her that stimulating Larry’s main senses could help rouse him, so the woman had done everything in the book. She rambled to him about her day every time she visited after work, constantly held his hand and kissed his cheek every time she left, and she had even brought and lit candles in the room from their apartment. Before she had given Sal privacy with Larry, she urged him to talk to the brunet. Sal had denied the notion, saying he wouldn’t stay that long, but now he felt himself sitting down in the uncomfortable chair.

For a moment, he just sat, not knowing what to say. But soon enough, the words flowed smoothly. “You’re such an idiot,” Sal whispered, feeling uncomfortable breaking the silence. He glanced around, half expecting a nurse to come in and chastise him for being loud. When that didn’t happen, he continued. “I hate to say ‘I told you so,’ but I told you so. I read you an online article of this exact thing happening. My dad’s binge drinking wasn't even this bad. God, I can’t believe you cut off the oxygen flow to your brain, and still, somehow, survived getting severe brain damage. Lisa thought you were dead when she found you!”

Sal felt his cheeks wetten as he continued to rant, everything surging up at once. His eyes glanced warily around the room. The only window was a small one in the door. Taking a chance, Sal took off his prosthetic and set it in his lap. He hated how the material would cling to his skin when he was sweating or crying. “I don’t know what happened to you. You were obviously using it as some sort of coping mechanism, but I have no idea what for. You became so closed off, and you scared me. I thought you would eventually discard me. I guess you’re still going to disappear from my life for at least a month or two. You’re going to a rehabilitation center after you wake up,” Sal paused, voice growing meek, “God, please wake up.”

Once more, silence invaded the room. Sal blinked, trying to clear his vision from where it had grown blurry from tears. He could still feel a few wet trails rolling down his face, but he felt better. Most of the torrent had been released. 

When he could see again, his gaze trailed to Larry’s hand. It laid at the brunet’s side, black nail polish mostly chipped off. Sal took in into his hand without thinking. He guided Larry’s fingers to interlock with his own. “Let’s make a deal. I’ll tell you a secret right now, and you'll wake up and tell me why you were so committed to destroying your life.” Sal paused. Despite Larry not being able to hear him, he still felt like he was putting his heart on the line. Both of his hands clasped at Larry’s hand, grounding himself.

 “I really, really like you Johnson. Don’t let that inflate your already bursting ego because you absolutely don't deserve the compliment right now. But everytime you laugh and show off that stupid ass toothgap, I want to punch you because in those moments I just want to lean over and kiss you, and I know I can’t. Maybe if you wake up, we can try shotgunning cigarette smoke before you leave even though that’s the most idiotic idea you’ve ever come up with,” Sal laughed before bringing Larry’s hand up to his mouth and pressing a kiss to the back of the brunet’s hand. “If you can’t wake up for yourself, please wake up for me and Lisa.”

It was the next day when Larry came to. Sal had been getting ready to shower when Lisa called him. He had been ready to come right away, grime and all, but Lisa stopped him. Apparently Larry was in a minimally conscious state. He’d wake up for a few minutes, confused as to where he was, and then pass out again. The grogginess would most likely wear off after a few days, and Lisa promised to call him again when her son was alert enough to carry out a conversation with someone.

The two day wait between the initial phone call and the second were absolute Hell to Sal. Even his father had picked up on his nervous energy, ordering a pizza and renting a movie the first night to help Sal calm down. The second night was when Lisa called again, and Sal made it to the hospital in record time.

When he arrived, he was delighted to find out that Larry was still in tact. There would be no outstanding injuries except for a headache. However, he couldn't barge in and tackle Larry right away because Lisa was still visiting him, so Sal sat in the waiting room, legs bouncing. He could’ve cried in relief when Lisa walked into the room, twenty minutes later. He made himself wait and speak to the woman before making a break for it.

“Sorry for taking so long, but I have the Mom Privilege to get to see my son first,” Lisa joked, a warm smile on her face. Sal stood upon the greeting, his body swaying from side to side in anticipation. “But I can assure you he’s excited to see you. Yesterday, every time he woke up, he always mentioned your name. Just try not to over excite him.”

“Yes ma’am, I’ll try my best.” Lisa’s smile broadened before she pulled Sal into a hug.

“I’ve told you, just call me Lisa,” she chastised before breaking the embrace. However, her hands still gripped Sal’s shoulders. “Oh, I almost forgot to tell you! Larry remembers what was said to him during his coma. He doesn’t remember every conversation explicitly, but he definitely remembers the gist of everything. I hope you didn’t insult him while you visited him the other day.”

Sal was too excited for Lisa’s words to sink in. He just mumbled out a quick, “oh, okay,” before taking off to Larry’s room. Lisa had left the door open upon her exit, so the blunet could just slip right in and close it behind him. As soon as the door shut, Larry perked, sitting up. 

“Fisher!” Larry’s hair was an absolute bird’s nest, hair enveloping his head like a lion’s mane. His eyes were also red, an indicator that he had been crying recently. Sal supposed Lisa’s talk with him couldn't have been entirely sunshine and rainbows. He, too, was sure that he’d berate Larry later, but he was too happy to see that his friend was alive and well to do it right away.

“Larry!” Sal ignored Lisa’s desire to not over excite Larry for the time being and barreled halfway over the bed’s railing, enveloping the other in a hug. The brunet let out a surprised chuckle before wrapping his arms around Sal.

“If you pushed yourself any further onto here, you’d practically be laying on the bed with me,” Larry teased, his grip around Sal tightening.

“Shut up, I missed you, you oaf,” Sal mumbled, voice muffled by his prosthetic, and the fact that his face was pressed into Larry’s shoulder. “Don’t you ever scare us like that again!”

Larry didn’t say anything at the remark, and Sal didn't press. He was content to just hug the other for awhile. However, the cramped position wasn’t allowing him to breathe all that great through his prosthetic, so he pulled away. Larry stared hard at him as he dug his fingers beneath the prosthetic’s surface, pulling it away from his skin a little to get some fresh air. “You should just take it off,” Larry advised.

Sal looked from him and then back to the door’s window. “But someone could see,” he opposed. He had already risked it once, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to do that again.

“I highly doubt it. Your back’s to the window, and I could tell you if someone was coming in,” Larry countered, a sudden fierceness to his voice. Sal hesitated. “I mean, only if you want to. You obviously don't have to.”

There was a second more of hesitance before Sal decided it'd be okay to shed the prosthetic. Larry looked at him like a giddy puppy as he undid the straps and set the device down on the table. The brunet held his arms out for a hug again, and Sal couldn't help the small smile that graced his features. “You’re such an idiot,” Sal quipped, holding his own arms out.

“I know,” Larry smirked as Sal leaned over the bed again. Instead of the hug the blunet was expecting, the other grabbed his forearms and pulled him down closer, planting their lips together. Sal jerked back as if electrocuted. 

“What-”

“Did Mom not tell you?” Larry’s gaze was searching, hands still clasping onto Sal’s arms. Sal shook his head, confusion etched onto his face. “That I could hear you when you talked to me?”

“Oh,” Sal simply responded. Lisa had told him that, but he had been too dense to realize what exactly that entailed. As it dawned on him, he could feel a blush travelling up his neck.

“Oh,” Larry mocked, over exaggerating his facial features. Sal glared at him, and the idiot had the audacity to grin, tip of his tongue poking out from between his teeth. “I can’t believe baby blue has a crush on me! When were you going to tell me?”

“Oh, shut up,” Sal complained, the tips of his ears a vibrant red. He felt like he was back in high school, blushing every time Ash happened to look in his direction. He didn’t appreciate it.

“Make me,” Larry teased back, bushy eyebrows wagging. He looked from Larry’s eyes to his lips and then back up again. He still needed two things confirmed.

“You like me?” Larry rolled his eyes at the first inquiry, and Sal swallowed the urge to throttle him.

“I wouldn’t be offering to kiss you if I didn’t,” he answered, tone matter-of-fact. Sal couldn’t help but smile before dampening the mood with the next question.

“You’re going to actually try this time, right? You’re going to try in rehab, right? I can’t have you having another episode and actually lose you,” Sal whispered. Larry faltered, tongue dampening his chapped lips. The bluenet could see the other’s eyes dampen again, not quite shedding tears, but he needed to know. 

“Yes, I promise,” Larry replied. His hands tightened around Sal’s arms, trying to prove his earnesty. “Now can I have my kiss?”

Sal nodded, leaning down again. Larry met him in the middle and gently pressed their lips together. It was just a quick peck before they pulled away, but then the brunet had Sal by the collar of his shirt, dragging him in for another kiss. The bluenet let him, his own hands coming to rest against the sides of Larry’s face. Sal had always thought that if the chance of Larry touching him- kissing him -ever came up, the sensation would be overbearing and set him alight. However, the action just sent a welcome warmth through his body, much like the same feeling he got when listening to Larry laugh.

“We have to do that more often,” Larry murmured as they pulled away, eyelashes fluttering and cheeks red. Sal thought it was cruel someone could be so beautiful. “But when are we going to shotgun cigarette smoke? You did say we could do that if I woke up.”

The mood was effectively broken. “Oh god, I hate you,” Sal whined, causing Larry to chuckle.

“I love you too, Sally Face.”

#sallyface #sally face art #sally face fanfiction #salarry #larisher #sal fisher #larry johnson #lisa johnson #henry fisher #sally face fanfic

[aggresivelyfriendly]

A Premonition of Love-Chapter 7

Hey Loves! Here is our chapter, just  in time for @dirtystyles bday-I’m glad I included her faves, like loud moaning and dry humping on bunk beds, or something like that! Tripod writing forever! Special thanks, again, to @emulateharry for the quick beta!

Himitsu No!

Last Time!

"Yeah, I got that now." And his hand went up to her face, she expected a soft touch on her jaw, but he cupped the back of her neck, and brought her forward like she was gonna be flung back, whiplash.

He tasted like sunshine on her lakebed, when the sun beat down on her shoulders after the cool of the car air conditioning.

His head slanted to the right, and she heard her own response. When her mouth opened to the glide of his tongue, her hands moved from his waist up to cross over his back. Get him and his smell closer. His shoulders were wider than her, and the height difference, those inches suddenly made a difference. Except at their hips, those notched together perfectly.

He tasted like coffee and coconut. Like sunny days layin out in LA.

His hand was in her hair, and it was messy and a little desperate. Inevitable.

Action.

"Action!" Sounded in Harry's head. Suddenly he was the director and the actor. He'd never been so forward. Well, maybe in 2013, but that was something of a lost year for him.

Harry remembered lots of it, but it felt like he was watching somebody else play another version of him. And none of that had been with somebody special, inevitable. There were no feelings involved, at least not on his side. He liked to believe not on their side. How could they have like him, they'd only just met him. That was his mantra, that they were fucking the idea of him, liked the idea, loved the idea. It was how he rationalized it.

Until his mom had sat him down and boxed his ears and asked where her son was? Because her son wouldn't take advantage of girls overcome by their inflated feelings for him.  Feelings. His mom insisted the groupies, god that word, had feelings for him, or believed they did. It may have been just an idea of him, but he was still taking advantage she had insisted. He didn't want to hurt anybody. He'd calmed down a lot after that, and then things got dramatic, and then he had feelings for Xander and they hid in plain sight. When he had feelings he supposed he was blunt about them. He had impulse control when the impulse was to love.

He was definitely feeling something now. He was feeling all of it, everything that had sounded in his mind when he'd been hungover and clumsy when he had met her for real. All the things from before that, when he'd first seen her image, and his mind had run with possibilities. The time since, where he watched her work, serious and in charge, and when she laughed, buoyant and like light- moving in waves. It was all mixing with the literal feelings of her in his hands.  His hopes for them had been shelved in the library of his mind because he was trying not to get hurt, downplay his interest and not freak her out with the long term plans he had unconsciously made. For them. All of the hopes he'd had were now intertwining with the reality of her, of this feeling, and it was was all over his brain, lighting up and activating long term memory.

He wanted to remember this forever, the feeling of her forever.

Boy had he been right about her mouth. He'd gotten a lot of compliments on his lips from lovers. It was something he brought to the table.

But, Ada Scott, she ran that table.

Her mouth was revolutionary. She filled in the space between his lips like a washer between a screw and object. Nice and snug, protective. But soft, god she was soft and her hips filled out his hands like her heart did his cracks.

Alright, he was writing fucking lyrics. Time to focus on the moment. His attention leg to action, inevitably. Her hips became her ass and the wall behind her was a sturdy surface to support them and kept him from taking her down to the metal grating on the floor.

What was that sound?

Oh shit! That was him, he'd lost all his faculties and was moaning loudly. He would have reined it in, but Ada had one hand in his hair and another was undoing his shirt and he couldn't. He wasn't sure he'd ever been with somebody this incendiary.

Now they were moaning in tandem.

Her voice sounded better than a songbird, a lark.

He wanted to hear her. He could listen to that sound, be carried by its current, every morning, noon and night for the rest of his life.

He's in a rush, a wave to her finish, when she lifted her thigh to his hip and ground against his insistence he could see the shore. A few more regressions and advances and they'd find the beginning of land and end of their tsumanmic ride.

"Harry!" Ada moaned.

"Harri!" Yuki called.

Harry had to come up to the surface to recognize the outside command. Ada's commands were what he would rather follow. What her voice was asking of him he couldn't do with another coming closer and getting louder.

Harry coasted his thumb over Ada's thigh, gave one last squeeze, and placed it down, pulled back to see her swollen lips, wet enough to dive into, and more inviting than a tropical pool on the first truly hot day, and her blinking eyes.

"Just one. More." He whispered and offered her a peck that she leaned into. Their noses notched together and around. Her hair went smoothly back when he smoothed it and he immediately wondered how unruly his looked.

"How's mine?" He could feel his giant dimples. This was the best day of his life. His tresses were tangled and messy, his fingers told him when his curious pointer finger became a concerted effort to comb out damage.

"Oh, fuck!" The knock sounded around the small wall just after she had said it. "Your hair is fucked! We are fucked!" Her voice didn't elevate, but her stress was evident.

"No, I'll just look distressed," he schooled his face into frown and pulled his lip, "see. And you look flustered."

Her hands slapped at the air above her waist and then down on her hips. "I am flustered!"

He pushed a lock behind her ear. "I know, just pretend it's at me."

"Who's pretending." And she lead the way out after she squared her shoulders. He caught the motion as she wiped his kiss, or the evidence, off her mouth. She was muttering, she looked a little pissed, definitely affected. He liked affecting her.

He found himself laughing as she walked around the wall with a square set to her jaw, like all the groaning that had just been going on was him being beat about the head and ego rather than the libido.   He needed to wipe the silly smirk off his face. Though it was rather at home there.

He knew, he'd know since her first saw her. Maybe from her films and interviews, but definitely the moment their eyes connected. He'd known.

He'd lost faith.

Harry usually trusted his feelings about people. But he rarely let himself off the hook. Ada didn't seem like a grudge holder exactly, but she did not take shit. That was clear.

And he had been shit.

If you didn't get a second chance at a first impression, he was fucked as then he'd sucked. The situation had felt hopeless, unrequited, until just last week.

But it was better, he was gonna smash this scene now. He had lots to work with. Though he still planned to use his idea for the kiss rather than what had just gone down. That was just for him and Ada.

He thought of Henry and Akio as a slow burn, a smolder. He'd give them a kiss fit for hot coals.

He and Ada had a flare up. Once given the proper fuel, a little oxygen- they were burning.

He put his hands in his hair and looked distraught as he approached the area side stage. Ayae was biting her lip when they made eye contact.

"Alright Harry?" Oh, they were selling it. Ada was frowning, fuming, she looked actually pissed. And Ayae looked concerned for him.

"Can you fix my hair? I think I fucked it up." He collapsed in the chair, coming loose like a cheap hem. "I've gotta do this right on the next take!" he huffed.

"You will Harry. You're so charming, and Henry is the sweetest character. And you and Yuki have great chemistry- just relax into it. You do so much better when you relax." Her eyes were on his hair, but she was skating, them down and biting her lip. "Maybe think about someone you want to kiss badly, if that is not Yuki....."

"The person I want to kiss," he looked at Ada mournfully. "Doesn't wanna kiss me right now."

He hoped that wasn't true.

Ada was fuming, at herself . She could not believe she had let that happen on set, wanted it to happen more on set! What was she thinking! "Goddamn you Styles!" She muttered it. But out loud. Didn't matter who heard, it would go with their act, The 'I cannot stand you and your dumb ass' act. He was pouting with all his might in the chair in front of Ayae. That was good, sympathy inducing.

Except she didn't want too much sympathy to go against her. Harry was already sympathetic enough.

Oh great- bitch rep. Again. She hurt little Harry!

She'd like to put a hurting on him.

In the short amount of time Ada had begun to re-entertain thoughts of kissing Harry on that mouth, she did not expect it to go like that. She'd seen him go full rockstar on that little stage, but she really figured that was some alter ego, something he put on that wouldn't come out without wardrobe or a microphone.

She told herself if anything happened, which she was still totally denying the possibility of, she'd have to instigate and lead.

It was a bit of a hold up for her, honestly.  It was another reason she had given herself to stay away after their flirtation.  She'd been pounding her treadmill thinking of why she wouldn't do. Knew better than to do. Exhibit A had just happened. Though she thought it would be way easier to avoid, because she could control her urges. Before he took over control of her urges. Damn him.

Another reason she had postulated was that he was so sweet and a bit insecure, in her experience, she figured that would extend into his romantic moments. His sweet little gifts only confirmed that for her. His stare downs yesterday made more sense now. He wanted approval, assurance, so she thought he would be a little timid.

She was Wrong!

Another piece of the Harry Styles puzzle. Insecure in unfamiliar or new intense circumstances and a badass elsewise.

Maybe he was the kind that took a while to cope with nerves and then got better.

He must be very sure of his mouth and its abilities. Wow! Ada wondered if that would extend to other intimacy? More naked nudity.

Ada hated leading in the bedroom. She liked being the boss everywhere else. She wanted to be bossed there, relinquish her beloved control and feel love flow into her wildly.

If that kiss was anything to go on, she was going to be handled. She loved being handled.

She had to shift on her seat, and wondered where her water bottle got to. For once the sound stage was a little too warm for her.

"Ms. Scott!" Her DP said.

"Ada!" Julie nudged her arm.

"Huh? Yes?" They were they all looking at her.

"Can we start?"

Shit, this was gonna be a distraction. He was a distraction. Harry was already in place, she'd only glanced at him once and was kinda avoiding looking at him as much as possible. He was flushed and his mouth was a little red. Did they put something on him, that green shit? The stuff that worked with your pH and gave a ovely pink.

Oh, no, it was her. She gripped her pant leg to stop from wiping her mouth. She had worn Fenty Uncuffed, only a bit should have smeared. It was set.

She wanted to test out its bounds on him. How many kisses, when? Where? How long after application, could she kiss or suck it all off? Leave smudges of another lovely pink, unlike his bath water or his natural blush.

Harry bit his lip and blinked at her. What the fuck? Sexy cow blinks? Was this a Greek story?

No! This was her story. Their story.

"Let's roll!" She gave the command, and meant it for herself more than anybody else.

The first take was slightly uncomfortable, but this time because Yuki had lost the moment.

"Sorry boss, I need to shake it off." He had directed at her.

"You need a min!" Harry laughed "What did you eat while I was getting reamed?"

Reamed? What? Oh, no, that was rimmed.

"I had a snack!" Yuki grabbed mint out of his pocket. "You should take one too, you taste like matcha. Grassy!"

Oh shit!

"Do I?" Harry smiled big! "Want more!" And he went in to kiss his co-star like it was an attack.

"Roll!" She said. They were cute already, she wanted it on film, she might get some use. It was a good moment to capture.

Once the puppy play slowed down, and Harry and Yuki let the moment become Akio and Henry's, the pace became languid. Harry's hand came up, slow, and cupped Yuki's jaw.

Her prince pulled back, giving her a shot at pulling this off as a first kiss. His smile was small, just enough to pop a dimple. And Yuki was pulling off dazed, or was dazed. The small fit of Harry's full lips into this kiss was snug as a warm blanket. Not the fire of their embrace, or laughs of the start of this one, less than one, more than the other.

Harry upped the ante, gave the camera goodness to devour, capture like so much attention. An ascension of the kiss, to a new place, a moment like Jake Ryan over the flames. His large hand splayed over Yuki's jaw and his thumb caressed his cheekbone.

Ada could feel it.

So could the cast and crew. Everybody was silent. You could hear the lip smacks and yummy noises alone among the collectively held breath.

Ada let it continue, at least she thought it was intentional, run to the end.

The caress fell, and the lip lock ended, slowly. When Harry smiled and laid his forehead on his companion's and his dimple punctuated the scene,  Ada squealed "Cut!"

And applause went up.  That was the second ovation worthy kiss he'd given today. And it was so different from hers. This boy was so many things. He was insecure, she'd seen it. He was cocky, she'd felt it, and he was damn good, they all lauded it.  She might fall for each Harry by turns. She wanted to seize each in any case.

"Amazing! Excellent work!" She clapped along. "Now let's get coverage and other angles! We may need to pull epic shots on that one!" That could go on billboards, even in still, the moment would translate, move.

She caught Harry's eye and nodded, nearly choked when he winked, but recovered enough to bit her lip and shake her head. When he was on, he was on.

This could be so fun! The flirt under everybodies noses, the danger was intoxicating.

Until she realized Julie was watching. Her friend raised her eyebrows, flared her nostrils and nodded a little.

Ada furrowed her brow and hoped it came off as confusion.

They needed rules. They had a lot of movie to finish. She needed the respect of her crew. Ada needed to put her feelings elsewhere. It was hard though, because he deserved all the praise. The rest of the day he earned it again and again, kissed multiple times, lots of ways, and each time she had to keep her cool.

To varying effect, and ability.

By 7 o'clock they'd got the shots done and set up for tomorrow. Their timeline accelerating as Harry found his feet and took off running, like her god-daughter who skipped crawling all together, went from being carried about to running the show, literally.

There was a metaphor there.

Ada was still tired at day's end, despite how well everything had gone. She was emotionally worn out from over analyzing the kiss, physically worn out from suppressing her body's response to watching Harry kiss Yuki, stomping down the same response to their kiss, and mentally tired from coming up with reasons she should stop flirting with him, or hide flirting with him.

She had no idea what this was. And she'd been weird with Harry all afternoon. She knew it. His batting average stayed high through her change up pitches.

What did they do now? They'd flirted publicly, kissed on set, and then what?

She fucked her star like all those male directors?

Dammit, she thought it was just easy for co-stars to get involved.  All that time together and mimicry of feelings, someone was bound to fall in love. She guessed that was true of directors too.

But this wasn't love. Maybe something like it, a precursor of love. Seedling.

Did she water it?

In any case, she was tired and wanted another matcha. But if she had one now, she'd be up late, thinking, with nobody to talk to. Maybe she'd go back to the hotel and have a couple glasses of wine.

She smiled to herself. Maybe she would do both.....

Harry felt exhilarated, like he did after the Graham Norton performance, when he did it right! He'd acted good. Just like Jeff said. And he'd pleased Ada.

He thought he had. He certainly had early in the day.

She'd gotten a little cagey at the end of day, but he figures she was just gun shy, he'd have to coach her through this. Business and pleasure -- he was a mixologist at. He could show her the ropes.

If she was interested. Her kiss said yes, and he was getting better at reading her. So did her freaking out.

"Hmmmm, what's this?" He asked the air when he reached the steps of his trailer and an iced coffee was waiting. He hadn't asked for one, he wouldn't be sleeping if he drank it.

The cup said, 'Ada.' Huh?

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

"Thirsty?"

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #a premonition of love #apol #chapter 7 #himitsu no

[i-kaiwen]

we could let it wash away

BNHA Angst Week 2019 @bnha-angst-week Day 2: Rain // Cold

Pairing: BakuDeku

Link to Ao3

WC: 2,094 | Chapters: 1/1 [Complete] Sequel to why didn’t you, why didn’t I, why couldn’t we (I wonder why)

“You tried to fucking leave me, you… You stopped breathing. You didn’t tell anyone that you were fucking bleeding out and you had a seizure. If Icy-Hot hadn’t fucking skated off on his homemade fucking ski slopes to go get Recovery Girl, you’d be six feet underground becoming worm food right now!”

“Kacchan…”

“No, I’m not fucking done with you,” Kacchan growled, squeezing his hand tightly still as he stood up to lean over the other, crimson eyes burning as he glared at him. “You can’t keep being reckless like this! You can’t - you fucking stopped breathing in my arms. You died in my arms, you shithead, and that’s not fucking okay. It’s not okay, Izuku.”

The first sense that came to be as he came to was the feeling of the cold as it settled on his skin. The chill in the air seemed to fill every crack and completely cover his prone form, causing shivers to crawl up his spine. The sound of rain echoed in room from the world outside, giving a good indication on where the cold was coming from.

The second was the smell of antiseptic and oxygen that filled his nose, the telltale sign that he was clearly in the hospital. Again. The mask on his face helping him bring in the much needed air to his battered lungs, as well as the consistent beeping in the back of the heart monitor, was also another great indicator.

The last thing his brain could fully register without straining his already muddled thoughts was the feeling of a rough hand holding tightly to his own. He flexed his fingers around the digits that were clutching to his own, almost instantly recognizing the callouses that broke the surface of the skin.

After all, it was a hand he had held many times before - sometimes in situations similar to the one he was currently in where he wasn’t the one in the bed.

Crap, he was going to be in trouble again...

“Ka -” Izuku tried to get the word out, to call his partner to wakefulness, but his throat was too dry to really work around the sound. Smacking his lips together, he squeezed the hand holding his as hard as he could.

Groaning himself into consciousness, Kacchan lifted his head from the scratchy blanket he had been resting on. He stared blankly at Izuku for a moment. And then he finally seemed to realize what was going on as his face practically lit up. He stood up, nearly knocking the chair over as he dislodged his hand from the younger man's. “Holy shit, Deku . You’re awake. Fuck, I should go grab the doctor -”

“Wai -” Izuku wasn’t able to finished the word as a coughing fit overtook him, sending shooting pain throughout his body.

“Shit, fuck, hold on,” Kacchan’s voice rose in pitch as he frantically grabbed at the water by the bedside table, sliding an arm behind Izuku’s neck to lift him up as he helped him wet his throat.

The immediate relief that came from the cool water was amazing, parched lips taking in their fill as he sighed in content once he finished. Kacchan gently lowered him back towards the bed, withdrawing his arm and the warmth that came with it and leaving Izuku feeling the loss. “W-what happened? I thought… the earthquake?”

“Took out half the city. This is the only hospital still standing. Yuuei is fine. They’re using the dorms as temporary housing for those that have nothing. Students are bunking with each other or some shit like that, I don’t really know.”

“...Casualties?”

“Could have been worse,” Kacchan murmured softly, reaching up to place his hand on Izuku’s forehead, seeming to check his temperature. Izuku hummed, nuzzling slightly into the touch before it was withdrawn. “Most of it came from residential areas that didn’t have heroes nearby. Our parents are fine. Apparently my parent’s house has some structural damage, so they are crashing with Auntie for now.”

Izuku sighed, feeling a tension he didn’t even realize was there ease from his shoulders. When the initial earthquake had hit, he had texted his mother to check on her and confirm she was okay. But since then, what with everything that happened...  He felt horrible, but he was so grateful that she was alright. “Thank goodness…”

Kacchan scoffed, sitting back in his chair with his arms crossed as he stared Izuku down. Izuku blinked tiredly, taking in the sight of the man next to him. To say he looked haggard would be too kind. He looked positively run down. If the dark circles beneath his eyes were an indication, it seemed like he hadn’t slept at all since everything had taken place. It was quite possible that the only sleep he had gotten was the nap that Izuku had woken him up from.

But at least he was alive.

Shuddering at the thought of Kacchan not being there, he tried to play it off as being cold as he curled up tighter within the covers. He reached one arm out from beneath the blanket, wiggling scarred fingers in his fiancé’s direction and hoping he’d take the hint. The blond rolled his eyes, trying to pretend he wasn’t craving the touch just as much as Izuku was even as threaded their fingers together.

“You’re mad at me.”

“No, I’m fucking pissed is what I am.” Kacchan fumed, smoke practically pouring from his ears as he not-so-silently raged.

“Why are you…?”

“Oh, you want to know why? You really want to know what’s got my gears grinding? You were concussed, bruised, and you had a two inch fucking hole going through your abdomen. Your body went into shock from the blood loss. The damage caused your body to seize.”

Izuku felt as if ice cold water had been thrown over him at this revelation. God, what had been going through Kacchan’s head while that happened? If he had felt anything like he had when he thought that older was dead, then… “Kacchan, I’m… I’m sorry.”

“ You tried to fucking leave me, you… You stopped breathing. You didn’t tell anyone that you were fucking bleeding out and you had a seizure. If Icy-Hot hadn’t fucking skated off on his homemade fucking ski slopes to go get Recovery Girl, you’d be six feet underground becoming worm foodright now!”

“Kacchan…”

“No, I’m not fucking done with you,” Kacchan growled, squeezing his hand tightly still as he stood up to lean over the other, crimson eyes burning as he glared at him. “You can’t keep being reckless like this! You can’t - you fucking stopped breathing in my arms. You died in my arms, you shithead, and that’s not fucking okay. It’s not okay, Izuku. ”

“How do you think I felt, Katsuki ?” Izuku could feel the tears building up again as he remembered just how he felt when he watched that building collapse. How his heart felt like it had been literally ripped into a million pieces and buried beneath the rubble with his partner. He didn’t want to fall apart again, but he could feel his lungs constrict tightly. “I watched you… watched a freakin’ building fall on top of you! You think that’s okay? You think… you think I want to lose you? You think it didn’t h-hurt to…” His voice broke as he sniffled, hands clenching tightly. He threw an arm over his face, trying to hide the tears as they fell. “I can’t do this without you…”

“H-hey, fucking stop it,” Kacchan stuttered, trying to come off as angry even as his hands clumsily went to wipe freckled cheeks. He moved Izuku’s arm, gently putting it to the side as he sat next to him on the bed. “I’m the one that’s supposed to be mad. You don’t get to be upset. It’s like kicking a fucking kitten.”

“I can’t lose you either, Kacchan. Please, please, please ! D-Don’t leave me alone,” Izuku sobbed, fingers clenching onto Kacchan’s sleeve in despair as he tried to gulp air into lungs that didn’t want to cooperate with his broken system. He could hear the beeping of the heart monitor steadily getting louder and faster, but his frantic brain was too busy going into panic mode to even really focus on calming down before they came in to sedate him.

Kacchan could practically see the panic building, watching with wide eyes as Izuku started to hyperventilate. He shushed him, leaning down to draw the other as close to him as he could despite the wires and tubes. “Breathe, Deku. Come on, you gotta breathe. Follow my breathing. Breathe in… yeah, just like that. And breathe out…” He focused his breathing, having the injured man follow along with him for a few moments to try and ease him out of the attack. “You’re gonna set an alarm off and then this place will be fucking swarming with doctors who think they can stop that brain of yours from overthinking. News flash, that isn’t going to happen. I’ve been trying for fucking years. ”

Izuku choked out a laugh despite the sadness and pain, causing a new onslaught of tears to pour. He watched as a smirk of satisfaction slowly spread across Kacchan’s face, thumbs rubbing gently at the speckles dancing across Izuku’s face. Soon enough, his breathing had eased enough that the beeping had returned to it’s slow, steady background noise.

Resting his head back, he closed his eyes as he tried to keep himself relaxed. They would have to talk about this more. He knew they would. But at that exact moment, he just wanted to focus on the feeling of Kacchan’s burning skin warming him from the outside back in.

“You’re mine, you got that?” Kacchan suddenly spoke softly, fingers carding through dark curls. Emerald eyes opened again as he stared up into warm scarlet. “Nothing will change that. You’re stuck with me until the end, babe.”

Giving him a watery smile, Izuku nodded. “And you’re mine. There’s no going back on that now.”

Red filled Kacchan’s cheeks. Even after all this time, Izuku knew just how well those words could affect him. The older man shook his head, leaning down to graze his lips against a bandaged forehead. “We go together or not at all. You got it?”

Izuku wheezed, chuckling to himself as he reached up to thread his fingers through the blond locks of his lover. He tugged him down, knocking their foreheads together with a thunk that left both of them snorting through the pain as their lips met briefly. “Yeah, Kacchan. I got it. Just… try not let anymore buildings fall on you.”

“Yeah, you’re one to fucking talk. Try not to catch any buildings with your fucking skull anymore. Or, you know, become a human shish-kabob.”

Reaching up to wipe his eyes, trying to avoid dampening the bandages on covering his fingers, Izuku was content for a moment to just sit there in silence as Kacchan withdrew from him slightly to sit back in the uncomfortable looking hospital chair. Making a split second decision, Izuku tugged on the hand within his own. “Get up here.”

“Eh?”

Izuku pushed himself over a little, patting the spot next to him that he left on the bed. “Come hold me.”

“Oi, how hard did you hit your head? That bed is fucking tiny and there is no way we’ll both fit with all the shit they’ve got you hooked up to. I’m not leaving you or anything, so you don’t need to fucking worry -”

“Please, Kacchan…” Izuku trailed off, eyes glistening as he pleaded. After everything they had been through the past couple days, he needed him there. Needed the cold to be gone. “I need to feel you near me.”

The other man paused, fists tightening dangerously as sparks formed around the appendages before they fizzled into a puff a smoke. Izuku smiled as brightly as he could through the pain as Kacchan scoffed, crawling his way up and onto the bed amidst all the wires, winding himself around Izuku in an attempt to shield him. With some rearranging, Izuku’s head ended up being pillowed on Kacchan’s bicep as the older wrapped his arm around his waist and resting it there gently.

Besides where his head rested and the spot Kacchan had laid his arm, they were barely touching. Wanting to be as near to his lover as he could be despite the machinery hindering him, Izuku scooted even closer to his partner. He hissed in pain at the shock that went through his midsection, getting a rather audible “What are you doing, are you trying to reopen the fucking wound?!” from the blond in the bed next to him. He seemed to take the hint though as he carefully moved himself to lie directly against the green-haired hero, dropping his head to rest on the mop of dirty curls.

Izuku could feel affection blooming within his chest as turned to bury his face within Kacchan’s neck. “I love you.”

“...I love you, too. Even if you are a fucking moron.”

Izuku chuckled wetly, happy despite the tears that were starting to dribble down his cheeks again and dampening Kacchan’s shirt.

It wasn’t so cold anymore.

#bakudeku #katsudeku #day 2 - rain // cold #bnha angst week 2019 #bnha angst week #angst #hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending #my writing

[countessofsnark]

Snarky Recap - Thunderbirds Are Go: ‘Crash Course’

The One Where John, EOS, and Alan Deal With Two Stubborn Space Jockeys And What Is Doubt One Hell Of A Migraine.

And here we have the classic case of two vehicles heading down the same road, each of them confident that they were ‘here first’ - the space edition.

This vector ain’t big enough for the two of us.

I do love the sound of an orbital collision and flying space debris in the morning. (Except there’s no sound in space...)

*David Attenborough voice* And here we witness the mating ritual of the Stubborn Space Jockey...

A worried John hails the two vessels, only to be caught in the middle of a name calling blame game.

A textbook example of responsible adult behaviour, kids.

The international and intergalactic sign for ‘what are these idiots doing’. Also: John Tracy has had enough of your bullshit.

EOS: ‘Of all the strange human behaviours, I never understood arguing.’

John: ‘Me neither.’ More proof that John might just be The Perfect Partner.

After making sure that neither cargo is at risk of exploding due to the collision, John hails Tracy Island to get some back-up.

Sorry, Alan. No movie time for you. Time to untangle some ships and break up a fight. Pretty sure the latter will be the more challenging of the two.

John: ‘And bring Maximum MAX along for the ride.’ MAXIMUM MAX. *screeches* I can’t even.

Alan quickly realizes that John wasn’t kidding about the ferocity of the fight he’s about to interrupt. But a miracle happens as he manages to get both pilots to fire their thrusters and stop the spin. 

Next up, deploying MAXIMUM!MAX to cut through the cargo holds. Except...

On their own, the cargo inside each ship is pretty harmless but when mixed together in the right conditions... it’s BOOM, baby. I knew it... No cargo cocktail for you, Alan.

These are the droids you are looking for.

As the ships fall further into the atmosphere, another miracle happens - our space jockeys actually apologise to one another. GASP!

Alan proceeds to tow the two tangled vessels back into lower orbit but in doing so, he is severely depleting his fuel levels. 

However, he does get them out of gravity’s pull before running on fumes. Bring on the next problem: the debris from the collision has completed its orbit and is now heading straight for the three space crafts.

OH SHIIII-

The explosion knocked out Juliette’s life support. She only has a few minutes left. While John heads out to transfer fuel from the cargo ships to Thunderbird 3, Alan space surfs to Juliette’s ship in an attempt to fix the life support...

...which would be a walk in the park if the circuits hadn’t been fried. 

On to plan C: rerouting life support from the other ship. Whose pilot is suddenly VERY concerned with Juliette’s well being. OoooOOOOOoooh. I didn’t know Cupid’s Arrows were space proof.

Oxygen resupply is successful. Time to get poor Juliette out so she can thank her Romeo later on. (sorry not sorry)

Who needs light sabers when you can have a supercharged space laser, eh?

John gracefully catches Juliette as the vacuum of space sucks her out at high speed. Too bad Mr Bell’s extraction isn’t that smooth.

TFW you wish you paid more attention to your diet resolutions.

Juliette: ‘You can do it, Mr Bell.’

Bell: ‘You can me Barrett.’ OHH WE’RE ON A FIRST NAME BASIS ALREADY EH. And such impeccable timing too.

And that’s when John realized he had missed out on a career in midwifery.

Barrett gets pulled out of his cabin just before another piece of debris all but demolishes the spot he just occupied. But don’t worry, they all make it safely back inside Thunderbird 3.

Let’s rock and roll!

Or... not.

The debris cut the fuel supply line, which means they’re literally not going anywhere. That’s when John gets a brilliant idea that would probably make Captain Lee Taylor proud: a controlled explosion using the two cargos that sit right beneath them. 

Initiate Operation Space Mixology.

Wait a minute. Where did John’s sash go? *blinks* Then again, I can’t say I disapprove of this uninterrupted view of what is undoubtedly a nice six pack. *fans self*

MAXIMUM THRUST IS GO.

Thunderbird 3 narrowly avoids the incoming debris. I haven’t felt this tense since the first time I watched Gravity.

Use the Force, Alan.

Thunderbird 3 pulls away before the cargo ships are destroyed and all seems well. 

In fact, our space jockeys have gone from outright bickering to... asking each other out for dinner. 

Juliette disapproves of Barrett’s taco suggestion but counters with a new offer:

‘How about.. pizza?’

‘Perfect.’

The International Rescue Dating Service is now live. After all, John does have quite a bit of personal experience in that field, eh. *cough cough*

The Star Wars references keep on coming as back on Tracy Island, Brains is experimenting with what appears to be a miniature Death Star. Sadly, the simulation fails rather spectacularly. Oh dear indeed.

A wild Scott appears! Scott uses Mother Hen Mode. It’s super effective. Oh! And they’re working on a way to save the Mechanic. *SCREAMS*

As much as I appreciate these skeleton crew type episodes, I’m so ready for another classic team work episode. I bet those (mid) season finales are going to blow us out of our couches... *bounces*

#snarky recap #thunderbirds are go #crash course #tag spoilers

[sherlockholmesandhisinability]

Sherlock Holmes and His Inability to Go Trick-or-Treating. (One Part Halloween Special)

"Rosie, come here, honey,"

"Yes Daddy-" she grinned as she toddled over to me, "What's wrong, Daddy?"

"Oh, nothing, honey- I just think you look like the prettiest witch I've ever laid eyes on, that's all."

I pulled her close and she squirmed and giggled in the breadth of my goliath Frankenstein costume.

"Careful, Daddy, don't elec- don't eltrec- ezzec-"

"Electrocute." Corrected Sherlock. "Say it phonetically Rosamund: ee-lec-tro-cute. Go on."

"Ee-ee-eelectrocoo?"

"Not quite there, my dear Watson."

Sherlock twirled around magnificently, his cape flouncing decadantly in the sweet exilhiration of youth, scooped Rosie up with two outstretched arms and held her from underneath her arms.

"Electrocuted. A difficult word to say. Especially for a two-and-three-quarters year-old child." He teased, "Now, don't you look magnificent!"

He gasped sharply in mock awe and cried, "But doesn't Daddy over there look terrifying?!"

"Scary Daddy!" She laughed.

He gently put her down, went to walk away, but was stopped in his tracks by a little witch's broomstick being jabbed in his shins.

"Hubble, bubble, toil and rubble!"

"Trouble, Rosie, trouble is the word."

"You're teaching her Shakespeare now?" I huffed in a disgruntled moan, "Come on Sherlock, she's only three for Christ sake."

"Wrong. She is not yet three. For a Frankenstein, your brain is very slow. You'd think your creator would have plucked a better one from the earth. Of all graves, he picked John Watson's. He could have taken your arm," he pulled my arm upwards, "Your leg", he kicked my leg to the side, "Your fantastic, incredible pelvis", he slid his hand from the bolts on my neck, down my tingling spine, to my lower back and gently pulled it forward- ever closer to his frontage.

"Perhaps your neck?" He leaned down to my painted countenance and stroked my cheek with his bladed face, fangs and all touching my jaw seductively.

He grazed my shaven face with his deathly pale undead smirk and looked into my eyes. My heart raced.

"Your lips..." I drew in my breath as he came nearer to my unquivering mouth.

"But no!" He spouted, causing me to be plucked from my dreamlike trance and thrust into grim reality. Or Grimm's reality. I wasn't really sure. All I new was that Count Dracula was staring me in the face, holding me tight, and that I had nowhere to run.

"He neglected all of your wonderful physical features and took your ordinary brain."

"Is that an insult or dirty talk?!" I chuckled, "You're not too good at these things, you know!"

"Oh, but I am. You see- you hadn't allowed me to speak of your fantastic optimism. The benevolence and passion which resides in that relatively ordinary mind of yours."

"Relatively?"

"Mmm. Yes indeed. For a mind such as yours is commonplace and ignored in the nonchalance of the social majority. The public. But here, in my vampire lair," he joked, "It is a trophy. A gift. And I want to spend every single day with it in my keep. In my keep. In... my... keep. Rosie, that's your cue!"

"Sorry Daddy!" She bounced across the floor and clicked a button on the millennium era stereo which I'd never bothered to upgrade. Upon which, a beautiful serenade began to play and the flat was filled with the pungent shrillness of a violin masterfully played.

Still in possession of my faculties, Sherlock raised my arms and lurched my hips deep into the depth of his. He lead and I followed his sensitive sway. We were dancing.

I embedded myself into his shoulder and inhaled the intoxicating fumes of the world's only Consulting Detective. He smelt clean and sharp. The world's only. One of a kind. I was locked into his posture and our two movements became one singular structure of motion.

As I sunk further into his breast, I felt my shoulders be pushed back, then my chest, my front and then my...

"Erm, Sherlock, you're awfully close to my-"

"No words."

He kept lowering himself down the straight of my body. Slowly, methodically, studying my every dimension, before slumping at the floor and unfurling from his leathery shawl.

He pulled something from the plumage of his collar.

"Sherlock..."

"No words!" He scolded. "Ah, erm, where was I?" He composed himself and took a full set of lungs. So full of oxygen, I thought he might combust.

"John Hamish Watson. We have known eachother for some time now. Throughout thick and thin, life and death, you have stood by me. You- ha, you- ahaha, you-"

He convulsed into a fenzy of uncontrollable laughter. Shaking with humour, he tried to stand, but then failed disgracefully. At this moment, I siezed with guffaws and clutched my stomach.

"Sherlock, you're not meant to be laughing right now!" I giggled.

I helped him up and we leaned together, each stance entirely depending on the other's.

I looked up and smiled- now at his dislodged fang- "I never thought I'd say 'yes' to Count Dracula himself."

His grin dissolved and his brows closed together. His nostrils flared like a beast and his lips were pursed and bitten.

"You're... saying... yes?"

I smiled at the idiot trying to propose to me and took the ring from his sweaty palm and placed it firmly on my finger.

"There, look- now we're engaged."

"We're... engaged. We're engaged!" He pulled me back in and spun me around innumerable times before planting me back on the floor and staring at my misty eyes with glee.

"We're engaged!" He gasped, "We are engaged."

"Yay! Daddy and Dad are en... enga... enrag?"

"Engaged, honey," I corrected, "Daddy and Dad are engaged."

"So... can we go trick-or-treating now?!" She bounded up and down with pure excitement.

"Yes!" Sherlock and I chanted in unison.

We marched downstairs, hand-in-hand, clad in our monstrous battlesuits and opened the door of 221b and stepped into London as an engaged couple.

There, to my suprise, stood a greeting party!

Fairy Molly Hooper! Werewolf Lestrade! Poorly-wrapped-toilet-roll-mummy Mrs Hudson, and last but not least... er... Mycroft?

He wasn't dressed up.

He whipped his umbrella from behind him and put it up.

"I'm Mary Poppins." He mocked.

"HAPPY ENGAGEMENT!" Roared our friends.

"You told them?!"

"Oh, deary, you couldn't possibly think Sherlock Holmes could have made that beautiful proposal without consulting actual humans, do you?" Spoke a teary Mrs Hudson. "I'm just glad you finally realised-"

"I'm not gay!" I yelled,

"Oh, yes dear, we know. You're... bi-sex-ual." She stammered, marvelling at this newfangled concept.

"I just meant that we're glad you finally realised that you two were simply meant to be, that's all." She whimpered, before she and Molly hugged a very tearful embrace.

"Congratulations, boys. I do really hope you two will be happy together." Said Mycroft with just a tinge of genuine happiness on his face.

"Lads!" Cried Lestrade as he rushed us with a brutush cuddle, "Lads I gotta tell ya, I am so happy for you. So happy!" He reiterated with a second hug.

"But," questioned Molly, "Where are the balloons?"

"Balloons?" All but Sherlock queried in chorus-

"Yeah," nodded Greg, "Or the race cars?"

"Race cars?!"

"Or the fireworks?" Asked Mrs Hudson.

We all turned to Sherlock.

"Although those ideas were... marvellous, I felt that I was really obligated to manifest my own proposal. I do hope you all understand."

The group nodded sheepishly.

"However, I hope you are all ready for a fast paced, helium filled, dazzlingly bright wedding!"

We all rejoiced together. Our wedding was to be a ridiculous, high-octane, childish and extremely loud family affair. Mummy Holmes wasn't going to be happy!

Rosie interjected; "Sweeties!"

"All right love, let's go." I said. Rosie slipped her hand into mine and Sherlock was hesitant, but did the same with her little talons.

"I want sugar!" She ran off and laughed with the girls. The lads hung at the back of the ghoulish procession,

"Tell her not to worry, John. Her father will be getting enough sugar for the both of them tonight, eh brother mine?" Taunted Mycroft.

"You bet." He turned to me.

"I'm thinking we stay in costume?" He whispered to me sensually, "In character even? After all, vampires have incredible sucking powers don't they?"

#halloween #halloween 2017 #sherlock halloween #trickortreat #bbc sherlock #sherlock bbc #baker st #baker street #221b baker street #andrew scott #sherlock holmes #221b johnlock #dr watson #johnlock #john watson #watson #greg lestrade #di lestrade #lestrade #mark gatiss #jim moriarty #mrs hudson #molly hooper #mycroft #johnlock fluff #sherlock fanfic #benedict cumberbatch #martin freeman #freebatch #mary poppins

[fireandneurosurgery-blog]

Better Latte Than Never || Bobbi and Leo

Bobbi and Leo bump into each other and start to reconnect.

Bobbi looked around Ceres Coffee House with a gentle smile trickling across her face. The latest issue of Scientific America sat on top of the Economist and a stack of the other magazines that she was still subscribed to, but at the moment she was half way through Vogue. Realizing her cup of coffee was empty, she headed to the counter for a refill and was half way back to her table when she slipped on the wet floor sign (the irony of the action was not lost on her), her cup went spinning onto the floor, splattering the man in front of her. “I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed, before she looked past the dark beard and the locks of raven hair and into the kindest eyes she’d ever seen. “What the fuck?” she blurted.

Leaving the Legion and moving into a real apartment was not as difficult as Leo expected it to be. It felt odd not being there to see his siblings everyday, but it wasn’t as bad of a feeling as he thought it would be. He had quite a bit more time to work on his craft and that feeling of freedom made up for the guilt that was still bubbling away in his stomach. Leo had been trying to chip some paint off of his sleeve when suddenly coffee was dripping down his chest. “It’s no problem! Accidents happen, that’s why they’re called accidents.” He looked up at the woman in front of him and let out a strange, shocked noise. He blinked slowly, staring at the woman in front of him. “Y-you, I mean, no it can’t be. Can it?”

Of course he would be sweet when she was trying to be surprised. Bobbi frowned and looked down at the broken mug. Its porcelain pieces scattered across the floor in front of her. Swallowing, she looked down at the coffee once more and then back up at Leo. She was sure that this couldn’t actually happen because Chiron had been very specific about the fact that only demigods and legacies of Greek or Roman gods were able to live within the confines of New Rome. Which would’ve meant that Leo fit into one of those categories and suddenly everything made sense. “Leo?” she asked, because she had to be seeing things. She was convinced that he wasn’t there. There was no way that he could possibly be standing in front of her and she was certain that in a moment he would disappear and leave her alone with a broken cup of coffee.

Leo’s mouth was dry and he wondered if he had spent too much time in the studio today. Paint fumes could cause hallucinations, right? There was no way that his Bobbi was standing right in front of him, she was in New York. There was no plausible explanation for this, Bobbi was a mortal. He rubbed his eyes, half expecting a different woman to be standing there when he opened them. Instead, Bobbi still stood in front of him. He nodded mutely, he didn’t think he could talk right now. Yet, he forced his mouth open to answer her.  “Y-yeah, it’s me. I’m Leo.” He couldn’t remember the last time he was this tongue tied. He bit his lip before whispering,“Bobbi?” There wasn’t anyway it was her, but he had to ask. Just to confirm that he was going crazy and needed to go to a hospital.

Hearing Leo’s voice again convinced Bobbi that this was actually him. Stepping forward she wrapped her arms around him, he was so broad that they didn’t even meet behind his back but she didn’t care. Leo was actually here and that was amazing. “Leo,” she whispered with tears shimmering gently in her eyes, she wondered who his godly parent was. Had he always known or did he only just find out. Taking a ragged breath she paused for a second before kissing him. She wasn’t sure why she did it, maybe a moment of lust or just simply an impulse that she had ignored for too long. “I’ve missed you so much, thank fuck there is someone in this city that is actually normal.” She felt breathless, but that didn’t exactly matter right now. Leo was what mattered.

The moment Bobbi’s arms went around Leo, his heart skipped a beat. She was real, she was right there. She was in his arms again. His own eyes started to tear up, overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught of emotions. He had never in a million years would have guessed that Bobbi would be able to come into New Rome. His breath left him when her lips met his, but he kissed her back, his large hand cupping her cheek. He left his hand there, thumb brushing softly against her cheek as he looked her over. “There’s no one in this city who’s normal. How… How are you here?” He knew that she must be some sort of demigod, she had to be if she were in this cafe, but still he couldn’t quite believe it.

Breathlessly, Bobbi pulled away from the kiss and tried to force some oxygen to her brain. “How am I here?” she laughed, “how are you here?!” She brushes a tight curl out of her eyes and smiled. Pushing Leo towards her booth, she quickly cleared up the mess she had made of her coffee cup. Depositing the glass and tissue in a waste bin she glided over to Leo’s side, slipping into the booth next to him. Taking a moment to compose her thoughts. “I’ll go first,” she suggested, “not long after we last saw each other I was attacked by a harpy, luckily a protector named Grover stepped in and saved me before taking me to Camp Half Blood, once there I was claimed by Athena which was amazing,” she paused for breath and to order her thoughts, “I spent just over a month at Camp and learned everything I could before moving out here.” She bit her lip and sighed gently. “What about you?”

To say Leo was at a loss of words was a bit of an understatement. Bobbi was in New Rome, Bobbi was in New Rome and just kissed him, Bobbi was in New Rom and just kissed him and she just moved here. “You live here now?” He grimaced at how dumb that sounded and tried to clear his head. “What about your job? Did you get hurt?” Had he already gotten his coffee, he would be using it to keep his hands busy. He was pretty shocked by the whole situation, making his fingers twitch a bit. “I, uh, I’ve lived here my whole life. Um, I guess you can say that my family has a lot of history with the Gods. I’m the son of Discordia and the grandson of Nox. Among others.” He scratched his neck, feeling almost awkward about how many gods he was technically related to. “Jax and Cat are too.” He added as an afterthought.

Nodding gently, Bobbi shrugged and nodded. “I moved here the other day,” she replied with  a shrug, “actually this is only my first full day here but that’s besides the point…” she shrugged. “I had to quit it, all the research I did indicates that monster attacks only go up when you’re attacked the first time and I couldn’t stay in New York. It wasn’t safe.” She shrugged and lifted her shirt up to reveal three claw marks on her hip, “just a couple of scratches, I was lucky that Grover arrived when he did.” Pausing, she frowned. Betrayal wasn’t exactly an emotion that she’d felt before. “Really, your whole life….” she listened to him carefully and tried to make the connection between the gods, Discordia was Eris and Nox was … she wanted to say Nyx but she couldn’t be sure. “Why did you never say anything to me?” she asked, “It isn’t as if I wouldn’t believe you, did you not trust me …?” she trailed off quietly, running a thumb over the edge of the table. “This is all surreal,” she replied with a frown and a shake of her head, “both Cat and Jax and you here too?” she replied with a confused smile, “it’ll be good to see you all.”

Leo’s eyebrows furrowed together, he was pretty sure someone had moved into an apartment near his sometime in the last few days. “Where’s your apartment?” He thought it pretty unlikely that they lived close together, but the entire situation was completely unlikely in general. “I’m sorry.” He said quietly, he couldn’t imagine having to completely uproot your life in only a month’s time. “Have you been able to find a different job?” The injury wasn’t the worst that Leo had seen, but still it hurt to see that Bobbi was injured. His hand almost went to touch the scratches, but he pulled it back. He wasn’t sure if she’d want him to touch her like that. He sucked on his bottom lip trying to formulate a proper response. “Being in the mortal world was really freeing and I think I wanted to pretend to be normal. It didn’t help that you wouldn’t have ever been able to come here. It seemed unfair to tell you about a city you weren’t allowed to be in.” He nodded, sighing a bit. “They’re the same as me. Children of Discordia. They run the first cohort of the Legion. I’m sure they’ll be excited to see you.”

Pausing for a moment, Bobbi ordered two coffees for Leo and herself to make up for the one that they broke earlier. “I’m told that it is in the lake district, on Constantine Road, apartment 69 actually, which still makes me giggle.” She smiled widely and paused before shrugging. “Don’t be, you didn’t have anything to do with it.” She wouldn’t allow Leo to take on this burden, she knew him well enough to know that when he was over protective he tried to do everything on his own, she’d seen it in high school and she wasn’t about to let it happen now. “I’m working as a surgeon at the Hospital, they didn’t have a neurosurgery position and it was a step backwards but I didn’t want to give up work all together so it was all I could really do.” She bit her lip and curled a hair around her index finger. “I get it, I know you were just trying to make things better…” she paused for a second before frowning. “Hold on you’re telling me that Cat who never talked to anyone and Jax are leading a cohort in the Legion?” she had read all about it, and had discussed the makeup of the various cohorts with Annabeth, but she’d never actually gotten round to learning who led them. “They’re like military generals or something…”

Leo felt his mouth actually drop, there was no way. There was a few apartment complexes in that area, but he doubt that they also had someone move in on the same day Bobbi did. She was the new next door neighbor. “I’m apartment 68. In the same complex, I think. Considering someone new just moved in next to me. I was going to try to rent 69, but the natural lighting was better in 68.” He told her with a grin that expressed that he too still found that number funny. “The Hospital here is pretty good, considering that a lot of our injuries can be pretty bad. I’m sorry it’s not the position you wanted, but I’m sure you’ll get there soon.” He laughed, but nodded. “Yep, Cat and Jax are in charge of a bunch of soldiers. And kind of the pseudo parents to a bunch of kids. They’re both really good at it. I just left the Legion myself.”

Bobbi wasn’t sure if it was the shock of such a huge cultural shift or the fact that she was transitioning but this all seemed momentus to her. Especially learning that she was living next to Leo. “Really?” she asked slightly shocked, “I can’t believe that, that is such a coincidence….” she frowned gently. “I was trying to surprise you, I was going to stalk your facebook until you went into Berkeley and then I’d just arrive and we could talk.” Bobbi couldn’t imagine that this had actually happened. As the smirk died from her face, she shrugged gently. “I start next week, they said that they’d give me some time to get everything in order before I started work so I don’t know yet. But it is a job at least and I’m helping people get better so really I can’t complain, things could be much worse.” She could’ve been stuck at Camp Half Blood for the rest of her life, she was sure she’d have gone stir crazy sooner or later. “That is where you learned to fight like that?” she asked curiously, shocked to find out that the love of her life was a completely different man from the goofy artist that she’d fallen in love with. “Have you ever killed someone?” she asked, shocked by this sudden twist.

Leo nodded, feeling a little off from all the sudden shocks too. He really hadn’t thought that he would have had a chance with Bobbi again. And yet here he was sitting in a coffee shop with her, after she kissed him. When the two coffees came to them, Leo slid one to her gently. “I mean, at least we know people in the building now? Instead of both being the newbies.” He laughed at her admission to going to cyber stalk him. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t wait until then. It would have been a while, with everything going on I don’t see myself leaving for a while.” He grimaced, hoping that someone had explained to Bobbi already and that he didn’t just throw that on her already. He was sure this conversation was already a lot for her. “They’re going to love you there. I think you’ll enjoy it a lot. I hope you enjoy it.” He was confident that the staff at the hospital would adore Bobbi as much as he did. He couldn’t imagine anyone disliking her. “Well, my father taught us how to fight since we were pretty little, the Legion just advanced what we knew.” He shook his head,“I don’t know if I have, but I know I have hurt people badly.” He chewed the inside of his cheek. “War was difficult and I tried my best to incapacitate people, but sometimes bad injuries happened. I couldn’t stay around long enough to see what those injuries lead to.” He would have preferred her never knowing that about him, but he was about to lie to her. She deserved the truth, especially after he spent most of his time with her lying about what he was.

“Although I wonder how much time we’ll actually spend talking to other people,” she admitted before frowning gently, Bobbi wondered exactly what Leo meant about everything going on. “What do you mean?” she asked curiously completely unaware of the majority of the political problems going on here, Chiron had filled her in that there was some unrest, but hadn’t exactly painted the full picture. “Me too, I’ve been wondering what I am going to do with all this free time and now I think I know that there are a few things that I can do to fill my time.” She smiled suggestively before she paused and took a sip of the scorching hot coffee. It was pure black and very strong, just the way that she liked it. “Well, I hope so, it is always nice to be able to go to work at a job that you know that you enjoy. Especially one where you’ve made friends,” she paused for a second. As Leo admitted everything that had happened, she found herself frowning and wondering whether she would ever be able to do half of the things that Leo had done. Looking at him now, he was almost a stranger, but somehow still the same person that she had grown up with. “I… I wasn’t there and although I don’t agree with the decisions that you made, I understand that they must have been difficult to make and I’ll try my hardest to respect your decision.” She just hoped she never got into a situation like that.

Leo poured a good amount of honey in his coffee before adding a little bit of cream. It was rather clear the man hadn’t grown out his sweet tooth. He took a few moments stirring it trying to find the right way to phrase it. “To say the political climate isn’t the best is an understatement. Greeks, which you are since Athena is your mother, are being considered a threat to the safety of New Rome. The Senate was burnt down when I was with you in October. Using greek fire, which is a bit on the nose, leading people to think it was the Greeks. So, the Senate has come back with a bill that bars Greeks from doing certain things and has labeled them as ‘aliens’.” He bit his lip hard and debating telling her what his family had to do with that. “I left the Legion in protest. But, you should know, my father is one of the senators who helped get the bill passed.” She needed to hear it from him, too many people would try to twist it. Leo’s eyes widened at the suggestive look and he tried not to choke on the sip of coffee he had taken. He attempted to gain his compourse with a smirk back,“Oh, Care to share your ideas?” Bobbi was one of the few that could really fluster Leo and he loved it. “If not at work, you’ll have friends outside of there. Have you met Annabeth? She’s also a daughter of Athena.” Leo hoped that Bobbi and Annabeth would get along, both were very strong women and he could see them working together. He sighed heavily, he hadn’t even wanted to be there for those battles. He had gone out of obligation. “I live with the consequences everyday. It was my duty to be apart of the battles. I couldn’t let there be a hole in the line.”

As she listened to Leo’s explanation, her frown grew. Bobbi sighed gently, suddenly feeling a lot more stressed than when she had woken up this morning, but seeing Leo made all of that okay, even if it came with bad news. “Well, you and your dad never really got along so I can’t say that I thought that things would be any different this time around.” She sighed, “I’m proud of you, without even knowing that you were doing it you were still somehow managing to stick up for me.” She smiled sweetly and took a long bitter sip of coffee. Swallowing, she looked Leo in the eyes and rubbed her temples. “Well, this is a shit load of things to take in and I don’t have anywhere to be, so we could have a little house warming gift, just you and me.” She winked and bit her lip before sipping at her coffee once more. “I’ve spoken to Annabeth a few times on skype and we’ve written some letters to one another, but other than the two of you there isn’t anyone else that I really know, unless any other members of our high school were secretly demigods and decide to turn up.”

Leo couldn’t imagine how this all must felt for Bobbi. Told she can’t really live a normal life, told there’s a safe haven across the country, told “her kind” wasn’t wanted there. It overwhelmed him and he was simply hearing about it. “Yeah, me and Dad still aren’t on the best terms.” That was the polite way to put it. “You okay? I’m sure this has been a lot of information to process.” He couldn’t help the little, proud smile that went over his face. “You taught me to root for the underdogs. And right now the Greeks are the underdogs.” Even with his actions lately, he still wanted to do more for them. His lips turned up at the corners, his smirk growing. “I could clear my schedule for that.” To be quite honest, Leo’s schedule today, if he hadn’t run into Bobbi, was to go to Cat’s room and lay on her floor on she kicked him out. “You have Cat and Leo. I’m sure some of my friends would be super willing to show you around too. I used to talk about you a lot, so I’m sure they’re a little curious.” He laughed and then shrugged at her,”There’s a good chance some of you favorite celebrities might be demigods or legacies.”

Nodding gently Bobbi tried to smile. “Well, I’m sorry you’re having to go through this, and y’know if there is anything I can do for you.” Smiling, she nodded again. “It is a lot to process but I think that things will work themselves out, at least, hopefully they will.” They had to be okay because there was nowhere else that Bobbi could go. Shrugging gently, she smiled. “Well, if you would prefer to do that I can have a house warming party on my own,” she winked gently at him, “but that doesn’t sound like nearly as much fun as if my very good friend was with.” She smiled brightly and shrugged gently, “I heard about Houdini, a son of Hermes, how fascinating. I wonder whether the high levels of celebrities is because of our enhanced nature. When we were able to do so well in sports in high school, I never thought it could be because of godly genetics.”

Leo smiled at her, amused by the apology. They both knew that his relationship with his father would be never be good again. There wasn’t much either one of them could do about it. Nevertheless, he still thanked her. “Right now, I’d just suggest trying to get settled in. Read over the bill so you know the law, but otherwise, for now, try to just get used to New Rome.” It was so much easier than said, but he hoped she would be able to settle in. He grinned at her,“My plans can wait, you deserve a good welcome back party. I wouldn’t want you to be spending it alone.” He nodded,“I always assumed that being a demigod helped with athletics, but it would make a lot of sense for it to help people get to celebrity status. I’m sure there are quite a few children of Apollo on the big stages around the world.”

Smiling gently, Bobbi sighed and settled back into the booth to finish off her coffee. She felt comfortable with Leo, she’d never felt that way with Andrew. There had never been any ease to their relationship and although he was the sweetest man in the world, he wasn’t Leo. “I think that as long as I am with you, and as long as I have you with me, then there isn’t a thing that will stop me from being at home, and my parents are under an hour away so I can’t really complain.” Smiling she drained her coffee and placed the mug gently down on the table. Sighing gently, she contentedly settled in. “Well then, we’ll need to make sure we get some booze, and then we’ll need to go and have a good time and really break my apartment in.” She smirked and nodded. “I knew that Beyonce was too good to be true, there was no way that anyone could be that perfect.”

#better latte than never #p: leo #para #f&gwriting #chatzy para

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Call Me Maybe (With @InMyOwnMhis)

Jagger: -The air had a crisp quality to it, the kind that made you want to fill your lungs because the oxygen content was notable. It made me feel alive. Oh, irony, you satirical bitch. My state of body was robust while I sought out my destination for the night:  The Iron Mask. My reconnaissance over the course of several evenings had pinpointed the goth hang as a likely locale for the source, or at least close to it. I’d tailed one of the enemy with gritted teeth, his scent so strong it singed my nostrils, guy was the Pig Pen of lessers and gave the pungence of bleu cheese a new lease on pleasant. His carelessness was my boon. He’d had a wad in his pocket that could only be bills when he’d disappeared around the backside. When he’d strolled back a short twenty ticks of the minute hand later, the pocket had greatly atrophied. I’d observed the routine for long enough to confirm some sort of connection. My will power was tested beyond normal limits as I watched the enemy disappear. I need not draw any attention by becoming some vigilante for this new enterprising group of lessers. After several toe taps of impatience and two nights, I’d decided it was time to disappear inside the heart of the beast, and I was seeing the place with new eyes. It wasn’t just a vampire friendly club pumping industrial through the speakers, it was a well veiled front for something bigger, something I wanted no part of. Was it possible vampires were in bed with lessers? My moves would have to be calculated. I slinked through the shadows, in and out of dark corners meant to give privacy for sex, drugs or the whatever-the-fuck-the-patrons-pleased. Finally I found someone on the verge of nodding out. Before the drugs took them under, I had a seat right next to the guy. Without a word, I flashed them the symbol I’d removed from the baggie and what do ya know, they pulled out their own to match before consciousness was lost. Right. On to the next one. I’d climb each rung of the ladder until I hit top, or in the least leveled up a few times. It was a game that walked the line between going unnoticed and drawing attention, the latter of which would be necessary, but it still had to be the right kind. Junkies two, three and four were clueless about what I was after. When user number five finally gave me more than a “hi how’re ya” with her bag of snortables, it wasn’t the answer I’d sought, instead she’d dead-ended all my efforts, letting me in on the fact I wasn’t going to find anything with this mark inside the Mask. I hit the bar, perching on an end stool to saturate my disappointment in something overly expensive while I mulled over square one.- Assail: After a long night of pulling details from a barely coherent drug addict, I had a description. No name, no vehicle, not even a direction of flight. The user was so far gone, his brain must have been mush. For those kinds of clients, only the best product would do. Which was why he bought from me, clearly. For a moment I had entertained the idea that maybe he was bait, meant to lure out my dealers while the Brotherhood laid in waiting. But it took barely five minutes in the human’s apartment to know that he was barely surviving, and he lacked sufficient focus to do anything besides get from one hit to the next. The twins and I made our way to the Iron Mask the following night. I wasn’t due to see Evayhne again but they needed to feed, so a trip was necessary. I would stay out of the VIP section this eve, so as not to distract my informant from her duties. Perhaps I’d admire from afar, watch how she handles her clients and acts the host. While mine cousins made their way into the crowd, I hung back, arms crossed over my chest while I waited near the bar. The humans were rowdy as always, bodies and scents mixing as they dabbled unknowingly in the supernatural. My eyes danced across the crowd, thankful the headache that plagued me the eve prior had faded after a hot meal and another round of sleeping like the dead. This felt oddly like the days leading up to my transition many, /many/ years ago. But I knew it was just my body running on fumes, on coke instead of blood. Soon I’d remedy that. For now, I had a killer and some cash to find. I sensed something, my eyes flicking back, something had caught my attention. It was Evale. His gaze had sought mine across the busy club, and hadn’t failed. We were connected in that way, mine cousins and myself. It came from spending so much time together over so many years. We were closer than cousins, closer than brothers. Kin of a different kind. Evale didn’t say anything--not that I could have heard him over the pounding bass, even with vampire senses--just nodded towards the other end of the bar I was leaning against. I turned and looked… and Scribe be. A male slouched at the other end, dark hair, bright eyes, stubbled jaw, and the tell tale jacket with the scuffed elbow. Just how the human described it. He hadn’t remembered much, but he had glanced back and watched the males face off as he ran for his pathetic life. I moved instantly, mentally chastising myself for not thinking that the wannabe-Brother may come here looking for more addicts, more dealers. Little did he know he was barking up the wrong druglord. The dealer had been mine, not Rehv’s. I claimed the stool two down from him, a drunk human male hugging his bottle of beer in between us. As his head fell lower and lower, I sat back, eyeing up the vampire. I’d seen that look before. It was equal parts pain, desperation, and acceptance. “Need a pick-me-up, son?” I tossed a bag his way, one with my signature emblem on it. This was going to be fun. Jagger -I wasn’t sure which offense came first, the unpleasant ring of the word “son” scorching my eardrums as the sound carried across the slick bar, or the insult of the bag of drugs that was flicked my way.  The implication was derogatory at best. The injuries were eased when I caught sight of what had been sent my way, complete with the mark I’d been seeking.  I noted the drunk side-eyeing between us in my periphery before quickly covering the packet that matched the lot back home. I didn’t act in the immediate. First, I scoped out the delivery boy.  He was a polished, sharp male but with somewhat vacant eyes, which almost made him feel kindred. Almost. His pupils were well dilated which could be a result of the sooty light of the club, or maybe he was sampling what was on offer. Didn’t care. Whoever he was he was a bridge, or at least a few squares of the hopscotch closer to the man in charge. This was a twist I didn’t see coming. Right place. Wrong place. Right place. Dosed face. Smug face. Drunk face. Night had the makings of Dr. Seuss all over it. Time to turn the page to the next part of the book. My gut churned, unsure of how any of this was going to go. Clearly there’d been eyes on me, but whose? I did a quick scan, but blurs of grey and black with hints of red lips and fleshtones streaking the moving canvas turned up no audience I could detect. This transaction was not for crowd consumption so without a word, I stood, kicking up my chin just barely at the one in the know. Destination was a fairly unpopulated corner of the place between two thick columns, clearly meant for discretion but not completely out of the fray. The elbow room could only be described as cozy and that made my collar feel more constricting.  I hadn’t bothered to check to make sure I’d been followed, pretty sure the contraband in my pocket would ensure the RSVP to the impromptu party. Rotating to face my pursuer, a flat grin my most generous offer along with the packet that I’d snatched off the bar in my open palm.- Forget something? Assail I knew it was ballsy to toss around my product in the Reverend’s home, but as long as the young vampire didn’t go running to Trez and the female bouncer who ran things, I doubted anyone would notice. The real deals went down in the VIP section, where the rich and the King’s warriors spent their time. This side of the club was mostly humans. Desperate, sweaty pigs that they were. The male stood, giving me a quick nod before wandering into the crowd. And I was meant to follow. He must have no idea how things worked in my world. I glanced over, catching Evale’s eye once more. His head tipped and I knew he and Ehric would flank me, abandoning their companions until my safety was ensured. They’d be invisible in the crowd, mere shadows amongst the bodies that writhed to the heavy bass pounding inside the club. Soon my target and I were hidden among the vertical beams that supported the roof of the Iron Mask. I met his gaze with amusement, his eyes dark, and so very angry. His face was tightly held sheet over something much bloodier. His veil was thin… fraying at the edges. Wouldn’t take much to unravel the whole thing. My lips twitched in amusement. I did love a slow destruction. Patience was a virtue, and I had centuries ahead of me still. I lifted a hand and drew the design on the packet with my fingertip, tapping it gently when I was done. I didn’t take the baggie back. “Let me see... Lonely male, sulking at the human bar? Check. Shady corner of the club for a little privacy? Check. Bag of happy drugs? Check. Am I forgetting something? I think not.” Jagger -Eau du Cavalier was coming off this city slicker in thick wafts. By some sleight of hand he both blended in and stood out in the surroundings, but his bold assumptions were off by more than a little. I was momentarily tempted to pin the bag he’d failed to retrieve with a fingertip to his chest, but my war was not with him and I was not looking to incite confrontation. My energy was reserved for the enemy of the race alone, and there was no need for the unessential. Despite the arrogance, the potential to keep the transaction quick and clean seemed to reside between myself and this male, he didn’t seem the type to rough up the baby-soft knuckles. Definitely upper echelon, maybe even glymera and not any kind of scrapper. The glaze of vacancy in his eyes could have been hiding something, however. I crossed my arms and narrowed my eyes in a manner that felt shrewd.- If I wanted this, I wouldn’t have needed to make the trip. So how about I help you off the ASS-YOU-ME train and onto my track? -Reaching in my back pocket to pull out the emblem I’d so carefully removed from my unintended bounty-slash-burden, attempting a more direct approach rather than the surface banter. Games weren’t on the agenda.- I need to connect with the top dog. Seeing as you have some of his product at the ready, you’re my new escort, ya dig? Trust, he’ll want to talk to me.  Maybe you’ll even pass go and collect two-hundred dollars before we’re all done. -My lack of social experience put me at a disadvantage. I was hawk-like in my observations, but reading people did not come natural to me. My shining example of a father had left me with nothing but the uncouth to abide by and my resistance to his tendencies were my greatest strength. My mother’s kindness and unfailingly beautiful heart, alternatively, had only given me the other end of the spectrum. I was lost somewhere in the in between. Neither here, nor there. A lost cause. A young, but weary soul. My poker face was the only thing I had going for me, as to not let on to this male that I was completely out of my element.- Assail This was just too precious. The male was playing the same game he accused me of. He assumed I was just a dealer. He assumed I’d take orders from him. He assumed he could just swagger his way into the den of a sleeping bear, bang some pots and pans, and the beast would cower in fear. Now I smiled, all teeth. It wasn’t a friendly gesture. “You want to meet the bossman? I think I can make that happen.” I pulled out my phone and called Evale. He accepted the call without speaking. The only indication he had answered was the sound of the same club music echoing on a short delay in my ear. I spoke to the silence, not waiting for a reply. There wouldn’t be one with Evale. “I need to see the boss. Is he available this eve? Aye… thank you. We’ll be there shortly.” I hung up and pushed my phone into my breast pocket. Then I slid my hand into the ballsy male’s, palming the bag of drugs. I lifted it and crooked my finger. Turning without a word, I headed towards the side door, forcing him to follow me as he had done earlier. Funny how the tables turned. Pushing outside, the twins were waiting by the Tahoe already. Their meals had been postponed indefinitely, but I would make sure they fed before the sun rose next. Mine cousins each opened one of the back doors. I almost giggled like a young. Oh yes, this male was about to meet the boss. Up close and very personal. I gave Ehric a look. He knew where to take us. Jagger -That smile rivaled that of a shark and it was somewhat emasculating that it sent a chill up my spine, one I’d never admit. My eyes narrowed but more in a manner of measuring what Mack the Knife was holding behind that gate of pearly whites. There was zero time for speculation when he took back the wares he had so readily offered me. Instinct was punching at my ribs like a couple of fists going at a speed bag when he went all come hither with his finger. My guts clearly wanted to send the message: You’ve been played, fucker. I was damn confident the whole offer had been a ruse. Or had it? Neither of were showing our cards, and I was only used to having me, myself and I as an opponent at any table that wasn’t a city street. Composure was my best bet even as my feet wanted to play cement block with the floor, so I forced myself to follow. The night air temporarily rolled out the welcome mat with its sobering edge of cool, but it didn’t last, the effect waning when I got an eyeful of SUV. I told myself it would work out despite the organized crime vibe that was rolling so hard. I told myself I wasn’t the over-sexualized female in the horror flick walking into the decrepit barn full of macabre death traps. I told myself it was not my time and that I wasn’t going out like this. But as I stepped up into the awaiting ride, certainty was off the menu and a watery grave was the Blue Plate Special.- Assail Not a word was spoken as we traveled. I held back the victorious smirk that threatened to push my cheeks up, mine cousins playing their roles perfectly as we headed down to the docks. There was a corner in plain view I used for some of my dealings. It appeared inconspicuous upon arrival, tame, even. But the few lights dotting the area played tricks on the eyes, and it wasn’t until you were mere meters from the spot that you realized just how dark and shadowed it was. Even vampires were caught unaware. It was a short jaunt from the club to my waterfront view, and as we pulled up, I could feel the jitters working through my companion. He played it perfectly calm, which impressed me more than I cared to admit. Normally by now my guests would be shaky, babbling messes. I had heard every form of begging, been offered any and everything as payment, even kin had been presented for barter. As Ehric and Evale climbed out and took post next to our doors, I peered over at my passanger. “What name am I presenting you as? I do prefer to keep things formal. We are gentlemales, after all.” I pressed my jacket into place as my question lingered in the air, the vial of blow burning hot against my chest. I craved a hit. But it would have to wait. Jagger -Suspicions were plugged into an amp when we pulled up to meet the “boss” after an uncomfortably quiet albeit short ride. Comfort zone was a no show allowing heat to lick under my arms. The perspiration didn’t reach my brows which was only a slight victory, because my pulse would not be lost on my escorts.  It was also unpalatable irony that I’d ended up in the exact scenario I’d been aiming to avoid. I internally floated the question on whether the boss was named Titan, considering there was nothing but water for an office at our destination. My composure broke when I snorted a laugh at the term “gentlemales” despite the fine threads that clothed the guy next to me. Sure, I’d encountered males of worth, but overall the scales had been tipped in a direction towards the dirt, the grit and the greed of the male population. Image did not make the man. Dear old dad had stripped all illusion of such from as soon as I could comprehend and reinforced the notion at every damned opportunity.  I’d be more likely to be convinced that unicorns existed and were responsible for shitting rainbows all over the sky while playing in the rain clouds. I momentarily considered my naivety walking into this situation. I was unarmed, outmanned and completely green when it came to this kind of dealing. Still, there was an edge of excitement that buzzed under the surface, maybe the detour from monotony would give me a new lease on life. Nah.- Jagger.  -I left out anything else. The name that branded me. The one I wished to escape, the one I could not. There was no use in that disclosure, especially if I was about to swallow lead.- Assail Jagger. Just, Jagger. No surname. No father’s heritage to dig into. Nothing I could use. I scowled, unhappy with his response. Offended at his snort. Was his accent of preference that of a cock-grabbing, long-legged swaggering, baggy low-belted human who thought himself some sort of gangster? They had no idea what a real mobsters did. Humans were feeble imitators. And this male… Did vampire males no longer announce their family when they introduced themselves? Were manners so hard to come by now? I knew I was a bit old fashioned, but even I had the self-respect to provide my full name when someone asked it. Assail, son of Assail. My name carried quite a legacy, I was as Old Country, as old world, as old money as they came in the vampire world. Mine blood could compete with the Blind King’s when it came to purity. He was the only pureblood left. I guessed mine at about 98% unblended. Enough games. I was itching for a hit, my tolerance for bullshitting was low, and I had two males waiting outside the car that I had promised a feed-and-fuck session at Iron Mask this eve. My arm shot out, grabbing the male by the back of the neck. I slammed his head into the window, hard enough to hear it crack. Or perhaps that was his hard skull. I kept my grip tight, fingers digging into the skin of his neck. “Formalities are for the patient. Of which I am not at the moment. You, Jagger, son-of-whomever, owe me a dealer. And his earnings. The drugs I can replace, but the cash is something I cannot import into Caldwell.” Jagger -It was enlightening how tastes of death could in turn make you feel alive. Clearly my introduction had sat on this male’s last nerve. The dig of his fingertips into my neck threatened the integrity of my spine, and when my face met unyielding glass, the split of my skin above my eye intensified as the knock to the skull radiated a throbbing ache so powerful it numbed my lips. The blood gushed out, blurring my vision in one eye, casting a red filter over my sight. I licked across my bottom lip, tasting my mortality before a genuine smile presented and I met his gaze. Maybe this wouldn’t be a bad way to go out after all. Of course, Mr. Must-Be-The-Boss wouldn’t allow me the departure without his due.- Son of Rhuin if you need more reason to detest me. And might I ask your lineage since it is such an important talking point to you? -I purposely ignored acknowledgement of what I owed him. I wasn’t done with his ire; I wanted to explore it, sick, twisted and masochistic as that made me. Casting my gaze downward in acknowledgement of dear old dad. He’d been the one to invite this punishment. His actions were the ones I could never live down. His legacy was my death wish.- Assail Son of… Rhuin. I couldnae remember if I knew that name or if I’d just heard so many in my long lifetime that they all sounded familiar the now. And the way he spat out his father’s lineage had me wondering what sort of dissonance had driven it’s sharp wedge in between them. The only thing worse than politics and religion was family. Aye, Jagger, son of Rhuin hung his head and I could see now that he didn’t just lack the proper manners in announcing himself. He chose specifically /not/ to tie his name to his father’s. That was quite interesting indeed. My grip on his nape tightened once again, forcing his head to lift in my direction so I could pierce those daddy-didn’t-love-me eyes with my own dark stare. “I shall gladly do you the honor, Jagger, son of Rhuin. I am Assail, son of Assail. And in case your now-bruised head hasn’t figured it out yet, I /am/ the boss. Furthermore, in case those ears of yours aren’t working quite right either the now, I said: You owe me a dealer and his earnings. You took one of mine down the other night and made off with his cash. Now the question is, how do we fix this situation? I’m thinking perhaps if you are desperate enough for money to kill a dealer, then mayhaps you could not only pay back what you stole, but earn a little extra for yourself by playing my little errand boy.” Jagger -Errand boy. The fuck? I’d sooner meet my end. That little delivery of expectation left my mind ringing as much as the knock to my face. I let the fuzzy thoughts come back into focus before attempting my response, and now this male was going to listen to me. It didn’t matter if he had his hand wrapped precariously around my neck. If it was due to be snapped, so be it, still wouldn’t get him what he wanted out of me. There was the briefest moment of envy that flashed between heartbeats when the male so proudly stated his predecessor and namesake. Clearly he was not lineage-challenged like myself. I would use this to buff and shine his ego a bit. There was but one angle for me to take.- Assail, son of Assail. My mistake in taking you for anything other than the man in charge. My ignorance precedes me. Apologies. I was not so well graced as you were with your sire. -My flat tone was not meant in a manner of disrespect but to tamp down on the seething that that happened when I saw his aim from a fuller vantage.- Good? Good. Now, hear this. I will not be in bed in with the enemy, though they seem to be your current bedmates of choice figuratively speaking, natch. Brotherhood know about this? -I let the question hang for a moment, this was my only leverage in the negotiation, and my sticking point.- Guessing not. -Raising a hand before any protests or defenses can be raised.- It’s not my intent to make any trouble for you with the Brotherhood. Not my business.  I’ll return what I pulled off that lesser along with whatever sum of cash you demand. Errand boy is on you. Fair, no? Assail This male had balls the size of my Tahoe, and it displeased me that even with my long fingers wrapped around his neck, he still saw fit to think he could run this negotiation. As if I was about to negotiate. My other hand grabbed the door handle, popping it open. “Remove him from my vehicle,” I spoke softly to Ehric. Jagger’s door immediately opened, Evale grabbing him by his jacket and pulling his body outside. A second later I was out my side, Ehric and myself rounding the back as Evale held my guest against the vehicle. Once we got close Ehric grabbed him as well. There was no chance of escape. I sneered, fangs out, leaning in close enough to the male that each pore on his nose was visible to mine eyes. The flecks of color in his eyes were burned into my memory as I spoke. “If you think to threaten me with the Brotherhood, you should know… I operate outside their rules. I bend to no one. I serve mine own needs, and no one else’s, not even the Blind King himself. That being said, if you wish to hang a threat of exposure over my head, I’m afraid I’ll have no choice but to simply remove your tongue. No words, no tattling.” I drew my finger across the wrist of his arm as Ehric held him in place. “Fingers might have to go as well, can’t have any notes left in the First Advisor to the King’s mailbox.” I let those ideas sink in for a moment, stepping back and pulling out a cigar. I needed something to calm me, something to focus my senses on since I couldn’t take a hit at the moment. A spark, a flame in the dark of the night, and I was in business, puffing a few times as thoughts moved about inside mine head. Finally I turned and focused on the male again. “Ten thousand. That is what you owe me. And one favor, one you vow to complete the now, but shall be called due at a later date.” I nodded at Evale, who retrieved the male’s cell phone from his pocket. Mine cousin called my cell phone with it, the sliver in mine pocket vibrating twice before he ended the call. “Now I have your number, Jagger, son of Rhuin,” I pulled the cigar from my mouth and pointed at him with it. “Ten thousand. One favor. You’ll only have one errand to run in the end.” I leaned in close, our noses bumping together as I mocked his earlier sentiment. “Fair?” Jagger -Reflexes had my hand going to my neck at the moment I was pinned like the tail on the donkey to the body of the SUV. This invited my first rise of panic, not for the manhandling but instead for the lack of my mother’s cross, enhanced by the accompanying throb at my throat left behind by the insistent rush of blood back to the scene of the former grip of my captor. I somehow managed not to lose my shit over my most sentimental possession, reigning it in as  focus shifted to the male in front of me, his patience seemingly dusted. There was no missing the slick line of his bared fangs or the hit of his breath on my face. He no doubt hadn’t missed my thick swallow within the intimate range he chose. I otherwise didn’t flinch. Not at the idea of losing my tongue. Not when he traced an invisible guide on my wrist to threaten its severing. The chill that climbed my spine was involuntary and somehow triggered by the proximity of a warm body. Strange. I met his bravado with an upturn of my lips, then observed with a keen eye as he stepped back, noting a small tremble in his hand as he raised a cigar to his, plumes of smoke circling his head as if choreographed with their perfect rings. Demands were laid out in a tone that held no give, edged with a deadly undercurrent. Helpless to stop the retrieval of my phone and the silent orders carried about by the mute Ehric and Evale, I let them shake me down without protest, again unflinching when met with Assail’s mocking final word and kiss of our noses that could only be classified as posturing. I shrugged in the hold of the henchmen as much as my restricted position allowed.- As I indicated before rage affected your hearing, I’ve no interest in reporting you to the Brotherhood. You will have your favor and the sum, Assail son of Assail. -There was no point in making counter demands. As soon as I was free from his bulldogs’ sweaty grips, I’d be master of my own ceremonies again. I’d every intention of carrying out the favor and paying my penance, so long as the male did not put me in league with the enemy. I could not allow that, but my new “friend” needn’t know it.- Assail I sensed his agreement to my terms wasn’t the victory he sought this eve, and although it didn’t bring me as much pleasure as I’d hoped, it did put a win in my column. I’d get my cash back, and a favor of my choosing some time in the future. Which would take careful choosing, as this male, this… Jagger, son of Rhuin, I sensed was something other than the usual young males I ran into in my line of business. They were usually half-cocked with their swagger hanging out. Jagger, while stubborn and ballsy, wasnae as foolish as the typical bullheaded male. I could tell he was perceptive, and while he had made a mistake this eve in assuming I was the errand boy, he got wise to what was really going on the instant we stepped out of the Iron Mask. A male like him could mayhaps be useful one day. Look at you, Assail. Recruiting like the Brotherhood. I had a worthy informant, the lovely Evayhne. And now I was scouting a male whose origins I must needs research further. Rhuin. I would find his lineage. I glanced at the twins, nodding once as I puffed on my cigar. “Let him go the now.”  They did so immediately, but stood close by in case Jagger felt the need to retaliate now that his arms and legs were of his own use again. “I will be in touch, Jagger. Give you instructions on where to bring the cash. I assume a fortnight will be enough time. If it’s not, you can bring me what you have and we’ll discuss how to handle the balance.” With that, I turned away, stepping down towards the docks, under the cloak of night away from the low lights of the Tahoe’s interior. The twins would ensure Jagger’s departure. I had other things to ponder the now. Jagger -Although the night had ended up with a few rough edges and a small sacrifice of blood, the outcome wasn’t so far off the mark of what I’d hoped, save for one thing. There was no weight on my shoulders for the tithe Assail had demanded for my inadvertent meddling in his business. He would eventually be pleased to find how true I intended to be with my word. But the night had not been without its loss. My heart sunk like an anchor from my chest to the floor of my guts at the notice of the loss of my most priceless possession.  For surely as it was missing from around my neck, the gravity of my mother’s absent cross bore down like an elephant having a sit in on my pectorals. It was hard to draw air. With my symbolic and physical tie to her gone, the confirmation had been penned in permanent ink; my time was coming.  There was nothing left for Jagger son of Rhuin in this life. With that revelation in mind and no further word, I dematerialized into the night.-    #CallMeMaybe