#OTP; Muscles and Brain

[pocketramblr]

when i posted a worry earlier this week about not having something everyday for break i was wrong, and now i know i'm actually incredible and can never fail. this hubris will have no consequences im sure. anyway dont ask why the title changed. maybe itll change again who knows

[hyunnieshannie]

SKZ: In Bed

A shit show of a conversation was started in my writers club discord (Feel free to join!) with @maeleelee & @d4vekat-otp so here are my unhinged thoughts about how SKZ are in bed:

CHAN: SUB / SWITCH (SUB LEANING)

-He has so much control right now, even if it may not seem like it sometimes he just needs someone else to take control.

-Needs to be loved on and pampered, he's tired of taking care of his 7 kids all day

-Would love just being told what to do

-Seriously just tell him what to do, let him turn his brain off for once.

-SO SO SO in love with a calm, sweet, after care ritual:

- cuddling,

- kisses,

-a bath,

-snackies,

-hot chocolate,

- just be gentle with him after <3

MINHO: SOFT DOM

-Everyone imagines Lino as a hard dom. me included. based on his looks and demeanor but what if we based it off how he looks at Jisung?

-Suddenly the man is softer than SoonDoonDori

-Consent is sexy KING: asks if you're okay with everything he does

-SO SO SO passionate

-Gentle unless asked not to be

-Will bring the cats in after sex to let you cuddle up to them because he loves seeing his four babies all together.

-"want me to make you a snack?"

-SO MANY KISSES

-TIGHT cuddles, man will literally NOT let you go

-Would check in to make sure you're not hurt anywhere if he got 'too rough'

-Gives you his hoodie and sweats to sleep in

-HELPS YOU change into everything because "I'm changing the saying from No one helps you once you're fucked." (he's a lil dumb sometimes, he's doing his best okay?)

CHANGBIN: SWITCH (Depending on the day)

-Loves a good rough fuck

-but GOD WOULD HE LOVE being taken care of.

-Either manhandles you with his thicc muscles

- or pouts for you to be gentle with him

-IMMACULATE aftercare (HAVE YOU SEEN HOW SWEET HE IS WITH HIS MOM AND SISTER? HE WAS RAISED RIGHT AND KNOWS HOW TO TREAT A WOMAN)

-Massages!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

-Bubble Baths <3

-Would CARRY you to the bath <3 (Even if you can still walk. he WILL carry you)

-HE PREPARES!!! Whether he assumes he's gonna get some, or not, hes ALWAYS prepared for what you'll need after just in case! (Like water and snacks, or advil) (he do get a little sleepy after sex please cuddle him)

-PRAISES THE FUCK OUT OF HIS PARTNER 100% SO SO SWEET. "You're doing so good," "You take me so well" JKBDSFJKBVSFKJBGSKJDFVBG

HYUNJIN: SERVICE TOP / SOFT DOM

-Soft boy, Shy when people compliment his looks BUT

-Behind closed doors, he KNOWS. He KNOWS hes hot. and uses it against you

-He's a slut (lovingly)

-LOVES roleplay LOVES being a character so he can forget he was shy earlier about receiving a compliment

-PRAISES YOU "you're so perfect." | "More beautiful than any art piece in any museum" | "Made just for me,"

-SENSUAL ASF

-He wants to be in control, but doesn't want to hurt you ever, only wants to make you feel good

-Will sketch you naked while you look fucked out (paint me like one of your french girls)

-The Most EXTREME Aftercare (it's such a long process)

-Will not let you lift a single finger, while he massages you, helps you bathe, puts lotion on you, gives you a face mask, changes you, and ultimately puts you to bed

-KISSES ALL OVER YOUR FACE before you fall asleep <3

JISUNG: SOFT DOM

-STOP DOING HANJI WRONG AND CALLING HIM BITCHLESS, WHO ARE WE KIDDING? HES NOT BITCHLESS AND WE ALL KNOW IT

-BIAS WRECKS EVERYONE EVERY SINGLE CB? EVEN IF JISUNG ISN'T YOUR BIAS... HE'S STILL YOUR BIAS.

-JISUNG MAY BE SHY BUT HE KNOWS WHAT HE'S DOING.

-LOVES EDGING. (Ignores us on bubble forever, knows we want him, knows EXACTLY when to drop content, and leave us begging him for more)

-HEAD GAME STRONG. PROVE ME WRONG RN.

-LOVES watching you beg for him. "I don't think you deserve it though-"

-WHORE (lovingly)

-WOULD SEXT YOU WHILE EITHER ONE OF YOU IS IN AN IMPORTANT MEETING "How bad do you want me right now?"

-AFTER CARE INCLUDES CUDDLES AND ANIME

-LIKE SO MUCH ANIME (FOKN WEEB)

-Showers TOGETHER. you're not allowed to go in there alone wtf??

FELIX: HARD DOM. / BRAT TAMER

-WHY EVERYONE THINK HES A SUB??

-HATES being seen as a pretty, fragile, princess

-NEEDS to take out his frustrations but what BETTER way than to show his partner whos in charge (Spoiler: It's Him.)

-The type to fuck you against the wall

-Seriously. He wants to pick you up and fuck you against any flat surface he can find- especially- when you piss him off.

-Leaves SO MANY marks on you. "Everyone needs to know who you belong to."

-LOVES face fucking. L O V E S it

-PRAISES YOU (if you deserve it) "Just like that, you're doing so good"

-IF YOU DONT DESERVE IT THO: "Stupid little whore, forgot whos in charge again huh?" (NOT HAPPY. STILL SO HOT OF HIM THO)

-SWEET BABY DURING AFTERCARE, WHOLE 180 CHANGE, "Baby what do you need?" "are you ok my love?" "Thank you for letting me get my anger out..." SO SO SO SO SO SOFT

SEUNGMIN: HARD DOM. FULL ON SADIST.

-Man isn't just a dom. He's a mother fucking SADIST

-Teases you until you cry

-LOVES making you angry/frustrated

-LOVES watching you fight back (like the brat you are)

-LOVES it more to see you lose the fight (Source: Trust me bro)

-TOYS TOYS TOYS.

-LOVES Using toys to overstimulate you.

-THE TYPE TO DO GUIDED MASTRUBATION

-LOVES the power he has over you!!!!!!!!!

-DENIAL. DENIAL. DENIAL. THIS IS BEYOND EDGING. ONE WRONG MOVE AND HE WILL DENY YOU AT LEAST 7 TIMES.

-JEALOUS FUCKING. "so you wanna act up in front of other guys? REMEMBER who fucking OWNS you."

-AFTERCARE IS SO NICE WITH HIM THO. HES A TOTAL PUPPY. Following you around to make sure you're okay, like a dog with its tail between its legs he needs lots of attention, cuddles and kisses. He loves you SO Much, he can't help his jealousy issues...

JEONGIN: HARD DOM

-DOESNT want to be Baby bread. HES SAID IT. (he wants to be Daddy Toast fr)

-Hes SO innocent looking? RED FLAG. HES 100% A WHORE (Lovingly)

-LOVES using his hands and his tongue

-Will over stimulate you with them before he even THINKS of fucking you

-When he DOES fuck you, the grip he has on your body will leave bruises on you for a week

-WOULD MARK YOU SO MUCH

-Wants YOU to mark him in forms of hickeys or scratches

-CHOKING - HAVE YOU SEEN HIS HANDS???????????? (Chanting: BREATH PLAY, BREATH PLAY, BREATH PLAY yeah. Im part of the breath play cult...)

-ALL THE KINKS, HES A FUCKING F R E A K "You see me as a baby? I'm about to prove you wrong little fox."

-WANTS YOU TO WEAR A FUCKING COLLAR WITH HIS NAME ON THE TAG. "You're mine. don't fucking forget it."

-SUCH A BABY DURING AFTERCARE. WANTS CUDDLES, WOULD NUZZLE INTO YOU, BABY FOX IS VERY SHY AFTER LETTING OUT HIS DOM SIDE ON YOU.

Tags @chanlixiiee @amalieworldidk @jaebaebaegot7 @maeleelee @iadorethemskz @maenijw @hangin-out-with-the-street-rats @jinniespuppy @painstakingly-juno @lethallyprotected @elizalabs3 @jisungsbff01 @seungminslittlepup

[karahalloway]

(Less Than) Noble Intentions: Chapter 20 - Steal Me Away

Fandom: TRR

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Series Summary: The social season may be over, but Harper Gale’s problems are just beginning. With everyone at court a potential suspect, can she and Drake survive the engagement tour and get to the bottom of the plot against her and clear her name? An AU take of TRR2 featuring my OTP - Harper & Drake.

Masterlist: (Less Than) Noble Intentions

Chapter Summary: Drake is back... but that doesn't mean that it's a happy reunion...

Word Count: 4,300

Rating/Warnings: M (shouting, guilt-tripping, dangerous driving, swearing in multiple languages, one over-heated kiss)

Chapter theme song:

Chapter 20 - Steal Me Away

I whirl around in disbelief. "Drake...!"

He's stood before me with two days' worth of stubble, regarding me with a long-suffering look.

But it really is him.

And I feel my heart swell, even though I can tell that he's not exactly best pleased to find me in a random antique shop in the middle of Rome.

The muscle in his jaw twitches. "I turn my back for one goddamn minute and—"

"What are you doing here?" I blurt.

"I can ask the same of you, Gale..." he counters, folding his arms over his chest. "Because this sure as shit ain't no bridal boutique."

My chin lifts on its own accord. "I decided to make a detour."

"Jesus fucking—" He rakes his hand through his hair. "Did you leave your brain in a ditch somewhere in the process?"

My eyes widen. "Wha—! No! I—"

"The city is crawling with paps!" he almost shouts, jabbing a finger towards the door. "Who are looking for any excuse to make a meal out of you! Did you not think for one second that—?"

"What?" I counter heatedly, stepping up to him. "That I should cower and hide instead, like I'm to blame for it all? I told you — I refuse to let these people—"

"Well, it would've been a damn sight better than making me chase you across half the fucking city!"

"Why were you even chasing after me?" I demand, my own ire flaring. "You're supposed to be in Dubai!"

"Been there, done that, got the jet lag to prove it," he hits back sarcastically. "But just because I'm gone doesn't mean you suddenly have carte blanche to fuck off on your own."

"Says the person who walked off without so much as a 'see you later'..."

His mouth hardens. "I didn't want to—"

"Also, I'm not on my own," I continue testily. "Allard and Schweitzer—"

"—are fucking fired," he cuts in, suddenly darkened mocha eyes flashing. "They should never have—"

"Ch'è qualche problema?"

"No!" Drake and I snap in unison.

The old man falls mute before muttering something disparaging under his breath.

I continue staring at Drake, heart thumping and chest heaving in the wake of our dust-up.

He glares back unblinkingly, jaw clenched as the tension rolls off him in palatable waves.

I reach up to adjust the strap of my tote indignantly. "So much for trusting each other, huh, Walker?"

"Dammit, Gale," he growls. "That's not what—"

Grabbing the wrapped box off the counter, I stomp past him without a backwards glance. "See you back at the embassy."

He has some nerve, showing up out of the blue t—

I barely make it two steps before he's grabbed me by the arm.

I open my mouth to retort...

...but I'm not given a chance to get a word in edgeways, because in the next instant, he's slammed me against his chest, laying claim to my mouth with a ferocity that's on the verge of being savage.

The fight whooshes out of me as my arms fly up to wrap themselves 'round his neck, even as I feel his fingers dig against the soft cotton of my dress, pulling me to him like a long-lost ship to anchor.

"Christ, girl," he growls against my lips. "You send me off the edge of reason..."

"I'm... sorry..." I gasp, clinging to him helplessly as he trails down the line of my jaw. "I didn't mean to—"

"Ah... l'amore... non è bello se non è litigarello."

Drake starts as he gets clapped roundly on the back.

Peeking up, I see the shopkeeper smirking at us conspiratorially as he ambles past.

"Err... Sì," coughs Drake, pulling back from me. "Sto certamente imparando che a mio spese..."

The man laughs in response. "Non capita a tutti?"

"You speak Italian?" I gawp, feeling a flush creep up my cheeks as the old man throws us a wink over his shoulder.

"Uh... Yeah..." Drake mutters, running his hand over the back of his head somewhat sheepishly. "With Bast."

"Oh." I glance between him and the old man. "What did he say?"

"An old proverb," Drake says, looking just as embarrassed as I am feeling about the fact that we'd inadvertently let our dirty laundry rip in the company of a complete stranger. "Love is not beautiful if it does not quarrel."

My cheeks redden further. "I-I see..."

"It's kind of a compliment..." he admits, shooting a sidelong glance over at the man, who's now busy dusting some shelves. "But we should probably get out of his hair."

"Definitely...!" I chirp, diving towards the saving grace of the exit.

"Err... La saluto," offers Drake on his way out. "E scusi il disturbo..."

"Eh!" comes the scoffed response. "Chi non risica non rosica. Ma è meglio stare attenti con lei! Donna buona – vale una corona."

"Lo so..."

"Everything alright?" I ask as Drake joins me on the baking pavement.

"Yeah," he assures me, not quite meeting my eye. "Just giving his two cents..."

Something flashes across his face, too fast for me to read.

But before I can ask him about it, he's already marching me across the square.

"What about Allard and Schweitzer?" I protest, trying to squint behind me as Drake navigates us 'round the incessant stream of sightseers. "Are they—?"

"I sent them back to the embassy," Drake replies, yanking me back as a pair of kids dart out in front of me.

"You didn't actually fire them, did you?" I gasp.

"Sure as hell thinking about it," he mutters, moving us forward again.

"If it's any consolation, they did try to talk me out of coming out here..."

"Clearly not hard enough."

"I can be very persuasive when I want to be," I remind him.

He lets out a low breath. "Don't I fuckin' know it..."

"Look," I say, coming to a stop and turning to face him. "I get you're pissed—"

"That's putting it mildly."

"—but don't take it out on Allard and Schweitzer," I tell him flatly. "They didn't do anything wrong... and I actually get along with them."

He holds my gaze for a long time before answering. "They're not your friends, Gale."

"Maybe not in any conventional sense," I admit. "But getting me a security detail had been your idea, Walker. And I know I was against it initially, but Allard and Schweitzer have been able to be there for me when you haven't."

His mouth hardens.

"And I know that grates you," I continue quickly, before he can cut me off again. "But we knew from the start that this was going to be the case, so if you do need to leave, then I'd prefer to be left with people I can trust. And I trust Allard and Schweitzer — with my life. Which is actually saying a lot."

He holds my gaze for what feels like a full minute before answering. "I'll think about it."

"That's it?" I demand in disbelief as he grabs my wrist to pull me after him again. "After all that, you're just going t—?"

"I said I'll think about it."

I glare at his back. "You're a dick."

He rounds on me like a wolf. "I'm a fuckin' realist. And the reality is that Allard and Schweitzer messed up. Big time. And I don't care how much you like them, or how many times you've braided each other's hair—"

My eyes narrow. "That's not—"

"—because none of that fucking matters out here! What matters — the only goddamn thing that matters — is keeping you safe. From the paps, from the aristos, even from your ownfucking self, if you're about to do something stupid. And at that, they've unquestionably failed. So, no. I'm not about to cut them a break. Especially not on your say-so. Because the stakes are too fucking real, and I'm not gonna let anyone play dice with your life. Least of all the people whose one job is to look out for you. Got it?"

I force myself to blink back the sudden tears in my eyes. "Yeah..."

"Good," he grunts. "Now get on."

Glancing past Drake, I spot what is very literally the last thing I'd expect to see him with.

I scoff up at him. "In your dreams, bud."

"Gale," he warns, reaching for one of the helmets that's hanging from the black and white moped's frame. "I'm not in the fucking m—"

"Well, neither am I," I hit back tersely. "So, you can take that deathtrap of a Vespa and shove it."

"First off," he counters, tossing the helmet at me. "It's a Piaggio. Second, the only reason I had to resort to this is because you decided to bail."

I catch the helmet irately. "So, you're saying that this is my fault?"

"Damn right, it is," he confirms, extracting a second helmet from the storage compartment nestled beneath the seat. "It's got all of 50cc so it's underpowered as fuck."

"Then why the heck did you get it!"

"Because it's the fastest way to get around the city."

I snort at him. "You mean, it's the fastest way to get into an accident..."

He prays for deliverance under his breath. "Gale, for the love of Christ, will you just—?"

"No," I declare, folding my arms. "The last time you conned me onto the back of your motorbike, I literally thought I was going to die. And after seeing how everyone in Rome drives, I have no interest in—"

"You drive, then."

Drake's unexpected offer pulls me up short. "Wait. What?"

He pulls a set of keys from his pocket. "It's a one-time offer, Gale. Either you take the wheel, or I do. But you've gettin' your ass on this sorry excuse of a bike, one way or another."

"I..." I swallow thickly. "I don't know how..."

"I'll walk you through it," he assures me. "There ain't much to it."

"Somehow I doubt that..."

"Clock's tickin', girl..."

I heave a breath before shoving my head into my helmet. "Okay, fine. I'll do it."

"Figured you would," he murmurs, holding the keys up. "You know where these go?"

"Up your ass," I retort, snatching the keychain from his hands.

The corner of his mouth twitches — whether in amusement or annoyance, I can't tell.

Not that I really care. I can be a jerk, too. But, I figure that at least with me driving, we won't rack up any speeding tickets or near misses on our way back to the Cordonian embassy, which is where we are staying for the two nights that we are in Rome for.

Walking up to the moped — admittedly with more swagger than I'm actually feeling at this moment — I grab the handlebars and swing my leg over the middle of the frame.

After a quick inspection, I locate the ignition switch and slot the key in.

But before I have a chance to try and turn the engine on, Drake's hand appears in my line of sight.

Reaching between my legs, he opens a hidden compartment in the frame. "For your bag."

"Oh," I say in genuine surprise, taking my bag off so I can tuck it away. "That is actually kind of neat."

"Last thing we need is for you to lose your stuff..." he drawls, shutting the glove box back up.

As he straightens again, his arm brushes the bare skin of my knee. And despite (or maybe because of) the unresolved tension shimmering between us in the wake of our heated reunion, I can't help but feel a familiar zap of electricity course through my nerves at the inadvertent contact.

"No kidding..." I concede, somewhat hoarsely. Clearing my throat, I add, "So... umm, what's next?"

"Grab the break and turn the key over as far as it'll go."

"So, kind of like a car," I surmise, following the instructions. "Why isn't it starting?"

"Because you only turned the electronics on," Drake advises. "To kick the engine off, you need to disengage the kick stand, and then press the start button."

"Jesus Christ, this is complicated..." I grumble as I scoot off the seat so I can try to figure out how to do what he just said.

"No more complicated than sailing a yacht," Drake counters, watching my antics from the safety of the pavement. "Just give it a shove ."

"How will that—?"

"It's got a rear-mounted kickstand," he says. "You disengage it by rolling the bike forward."

"Right," I grumble, feeling like a total idiot. "Because that's so obvious."

Maybe I should've let Drake drive, after all...

"You still holding the break?"

I snap my head up as I give the handlebars a hard push. "Huh?"

A squeal erupts from my mouth as the moped suddenly lurches forward beneath me, and I have a moment of sheer panic as I wrestle with the hunk of metal to keep from crashing to the ground.

"I told you to hold the break..."

"You could've been more specific!"

He lets out a low breath. "You good?"

"Yeah," I huff, finally managing to find some semblance of balance with an uncooperative moped  stuck between my legs.

"Turn her on, then."

I scan the buttons in front of me. "Err..."

"The one by your right thumb."

Shifting my grip, I extend my thumb out to press the button...

"You still holdin' the break?" Drake asks.

I quickly tighten my hold on the left-side break. "Yes."

Drake eyes me unconvincedly. "Just checking..."

I stick my tongue out at him.

"Hey," he objects. "You're the one who wanted to do this, Gale."

"Yeah, everything is my fault today..." I grumble as I press the start button.

The moped sparks to life beneath me, and I feel a massive rush of achievement.

"I did it!" I cry, meeting Drake's eye with an unadulterated grin.

He quirks a brow at me. "Y'know you're still stationary, right?"

"Shut up."

Drake steps up to the bike with a shake of his head and flips out the passenger foot rest. "Last chance to bow out gracefully, Gale."

I glance over my shoulder at him. "If you're trying to pull some kind of reverse psychology on me, Walker—"

"Wouldn't dream of it..." he assures me dryly, mounting up as well. "But my word is gospel, y'hear?"

"Aye-aye, Cap'n," I say sardonically... while trying to ignore the heat of his body and the instinctive urge to lean back into it as he settles down on the narrow seat behind me.

Because as much as I missed him, and as glad as I am that he's back, our volatile reunion has served as a stark reminder that we never finished our conversation back in Applewood. Not only that, but thanks to the almost break-neck speed at which things have been happening, the list of topics for discussion has only grown since then.

And the last thing I want is for us to fall down the same toxic hole that we did in the wake of Christian's surprise reveal in Valtoria.

I just have to hope that we'll be able to squeeze in some much-needed couple time before even more things pile up between us.

Not to mention, I'm desperate to know what had happened with Tariq in Dubai... and whether Drake's record-fast turnaround is a sign of some much-needed success, or even more demoralising failure.

But, first things first: getting back to the embassy in one piece, without the paps chasing us.

I feel Drake roll his eyes at me. "Wrong salutation, but never mind... Now. We're gonna do this slowly and gently. There's a lot of people around, and we don't need you on the front page of the Sun again because you accidentally torpedoed a toddler."

My throat constricts. "Y-You saw that?"

"You'd be hard pressed to find someone who hasn't," he mutters. "But right now, your focus needs to be on driving this thing. So, eyes up front and ignore everything else."

I swallow down my nerves. "Okay..."

"Your right hand controls the throttle. Your left hand controls the break," Drake instructs. "For the love of God, don't mix that up, or I'll be on the phone to your patents explaining why you suddenly need skin grafts."

I wince involuntarily at the gruesomeness of that particular image. "Got it."

"It's a mistake you'll only make once," he warns grimly. "To get going, twist down on the throttle while slowly easing up on the break. Don't jerk it, or you'll face plant into the speedometer."

"Anything else?" I ask, somewhat nervously.

As anticipated, driving a motorbike is a lot more nuanced than Drake made it look back in Cordonia. And I'm having some serious second thoughts about this whole thing...

"Keep your feet off the foot-stand until you've got enough momentum to stay upright."

"How will I know that?"

"You'll feel it," he assures me. "Like on a bike."

I bite my bottom lip.

"Hey," he says, brushing his fingers across my hip. "You got this, girl."

The familiarity of Drake's touch — even though it's fleeting — unwinds something in me. Because it's an unspoken reminder that no matter what may be going on around us... or between us, it's not going to come in the way of the promise that he made me.

I suck in a steadying breath. "Okay. Here goes."

Readjusting my grip on the handlebars, I twist my wrist down. Feeling the engine start to rumble with increased vigour, I gentle ease up on the break.

The Piaggio begins to creep forward.

"Watch the road, not the instruments," Drake cautions from behind me.

Lifting my eyes up, I carefully navigate us 'round the oncoming pedestrians, keeping my feet suspended alongside the moped, in case I need to make an emergency stop.

But, as we move away from the iconic landmark, the crowd starts to thin out, and the street widens. Passing a fruit and vegetable stand, I let go of the break fully, the bike pulls forward eagerly. Feeling slightly more confident, I add a bit more gas so I can finally lift my feet up without capsizing our delicate operation.

"Not bad," Drake approves. "You just gotta relax a bit."

I flush inadvertently. "I am relaxed."

"Your shoulders say different. You're driving like Quasimodo."

"Oh." I make a concerted effort to straighten my posture. "Better?"

"Yeah. But now you need to drop your elbows."

"So much for this being easy..."

"It is," he insists. "Once you get the hang of it."

"You and your technicalities, Walker..." I grumble.

"Everything's got a learning curve," he reminds me. "But we just might make a Hell's Angel out of you yet."

I snort back at him. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Evil Knievel. We haven't made it back to the embassy yet."

"Then you might wanna knuckle down for this next part."

"Why? What's—?"

I get my answer as we round a corner and come parallel to a busier-looking road.

Great...

"Right here, then first left," Drake advises as we approach a somewhat complicated-looking three-way intersection.

"Umm... Okay..." I mumble, eyeing up the noticeably faster-moving traffic on the main road with more than a bit of trepidation.

"No one's gonna give you room, so you'll have to gun it," comes the no-nonsense tip from behind me. "The indicator is by your left thumb."

A Fiat whizzes past, but the next car is some distance away. Taking a breath, I flick the indicator on and twist down on the throttle to merge into the gap.

"Move over one more," Drake shouts over my shoulder. "You're taking up the bus lane."

"Where the heck does it say that?" I demand, casting my head around in confusion.

"On the sign we just passed..."

"Was it invisible?"

"Hey," counters Drake. "You wanna argue with me, or a cop?"

"Neither," I concede sourly, making the switch to the left-side lane after a quick check in the mirror. "But they could've made it more obvious..."

Drake scoffs. "It's Rome. The bastards are trying to catch you out."

"Clearly," I agree, taking a left at the traffic lights...

...straight into a two-way fork in the road.

"Umm... What now?" I squeak, trying to hedge my bets as much as I can in the rapidly shrinking room that I have to make a decision before I run into the curb.

"Stay left."

I start to turn the bike, only to yank it back violently with a yelp as a car that I hadn't realised was trying to overtake me blows past with a scream of its horn.

"Vaffanculo!" yells Drake, throwing his hand out angrily at the other driver.

"Ohmygod..." I rasp, my entire body shaking in the wake of the near miss.

"Fuckin' asshole," gripes Drake. "You okay?"

I swallow thickly past the lump in my throat. "I... think so."

"If you need to pull over..."

I shake my head. "No. I'm fine. I just..."

"...get a kick outta playing chicken?"

"I don't do it on purpose!"

"You sure?" he asks dryly. "'Cause you definitely seem to be making a habit of it..."

I open my mouth, but quickly think better of it... as Drake has a point. I have had a few too many near misses lately. "Sorry... It isn't intentional. I thought that since I'd left the indicator on, that—"

"I know," he assures me, laying a hand on my hip again. "I'm not blaming you. But all the calls you've had have been too close. And..." His fingers tighten against the material of my dress. "I just don't want you to—"

"I know," I concede softly. "I don't want that either. And I'm not normally this accident-prone, I promise..."

"Except when your blood sugar's low," he corrects wryly.

His words cause me to clench my eyes together in consternation. "Damn it, the croissants..."

In the whirlwind of Drake's surprise reappearance, I'd forgotten all about the primary reason for sneaking away from the bridal boutique.

"What croissants?" queries Drake.

"The pistachio ones I was supposed to get from this little bakery next to the fountain that the Italian President had recommended."

I feel Drake's disbelieving gaze knife into the back of my head. "Seriously? That's the reason you were out playing hooky?"

"One of them, yes..." I reply evasively.

"Putain de merde..."

"Apparently they're very good..."

Drake mutters something under his breath. "Pull over."

My eyes widen. "What? Why?"

"Because it's past noon, and you're clearly starving."

"I'm fine," I insist, even though the only thing of substance I've had since this morning was the cup of coffee on Olivia's jet. "I'll just grab something when—"

The Piaggio lurches to a stop as Drake slaps a hand on the break. "No. You won't."

My eyes widen as my feet fly out on instinct to steady the suddenly stationary moped. "Why not?"

"Because the staff at the embassy already have their work cut out pulling together tonight's dinner, so the kitchen is off-limits," he explains, hopping off the back. "And you won't be able to take two steps outside to grab a sandwich without picking up a pap tail."

"Then why have we stopped in a dead-end alley?" I ask in disbelief as Drake pulls the moped it onto its kickstand while I'm still sat gaping at him from the seat.

"Because we just passed one of the best restaurants in Rome," he states. "So, I'm buying you lunch."

His cinnamon-laced eyes meet mine, and I see a sudden flash of rawness in his gaze... a silent plea entreating me to say yes. Which means this is about more than just food.

"Okay," I accede, wondering what could've prompted such a sudden change of heart. "But what about the paps? Aren't you worried we'll get spotted?"

"See any people?" asks Drake, reaching across my lap to turn the ignition off.

"No, but—"

"Exactly," he affirms, pocketing the keys. "This is one of the few places in the city where you ain't gonna bump into a reporter."

"How do you know?"

"Because apart from the fact that Sugo actually makes its own pasta, it is also a stone's throw from Parliament," he explains, offering me a hand to help me off the bike. "Which means that pencil pushers from every level of government come here to ink deals over carbonara, so no one — staff included — is gonna mess with the status quo."

"Sounds like something out of a mafia movie..."

"Where d'you think Hollywood gets its ideas from?" he drawls, pulling his helmet off to stow it in the under-seat compartment. "Places like this. Which is why no one will bother us here. Especially not the paps. It'd be a death sentence for this joint if their tight and discreet ship suddenly sprung a leak."

"Good to know," I acknowledge, unclipping the clasp of my own helmet. "But how did you even find out about this place? Let alone got in?"

"Leo," Drake replies, taking my helmet to clip it onto the handlebar. "He's on a first name basis with the chef."

I quirk a brow at him. "Sounds like there's a story there..."

Drake extricates my bag from the glove box with scoffs. "It's Leo. There's never not a story. But let's get you inside first. Before you pass out on the pavement."

"I'm not going to—" My stomach rumbles in pointed disagreement. "Okay, I am hungry. But where exactly is this place? There's nothing here apart from the back-ends of buildings..."

"Have I ever let you down when it comes to food?" he asks with a raised brow.

"No..."

"Then trust me."

The story continues in Chapter 21 - You Give Me Reason

A/N: Translations for the Italian below:

Ch'è qualche problema? - Is there a problem?

Ah... l'amore... non è bello se non è litigarello. - Ah, love... It is not beautiful if it does not quarrel.

Err... Sì. Sto certamente imparando che a mio spese... - Err... Yes. I am definitely learning that the hard way.

Non capita a tutti? - Don't we all?

Err... La saluto. E scusi il disturbo... - Err... Farewell. And apologies for disturbing you.

Eh! Chi non risica non rosica. Ma è meglio stare attenti con lei! Donna buona – vale una corona. - Eh! No risk, no reward! But you better take care of her! Good woman – worth a crown.

Lo so... - I know...

Vaffanculo! - Fuck you!

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(Less Than) Noble Intentions only (let me know if you want to be added!)

@thetruthisthatiloveyou @anakjaybon-blog

[wanderingaldecaldo]

*lightspeed powerwalk into your ask box for the soft OTP prompts* 3 or 10 with Val/Ros, if any of these two strike you fancy? 💕

Thank youuuu @blackrevell for the ask from the soft prompts!

I was sure that I was going to write 10 (getting ready in the morning) then I had an idea and it possessed me and I had to exorcise it. I reserve the right to also write 10 later. ☺️

3- Write about your ship holding hands in a tense moment.

Outside the unbreakable window panes, heavy shadows dance and loom as the wind whips the trees back and forth along the South Lawn. There are at least a dozen Federal Secret Service agents outside blending into the shadows. Inside, the flashing red, white, and blue of the screens reflect off the windows and obscure the darkness, the cascade of colors on the glass mirroring the cacophony behind her. The flashing colors coalesce into her own face, then melt into that of her challenger.

President Rosalind Myers stares out the window, seeing nothing as her thumb presses into the metacarpals of her left hand, digging into the tender muscles. The hand has twinged more often recently. She should talk to her surgeon about it, but a lifetime of repressing weakness makes her reticent. Val wouldn’t approve.

Behind her the door sighs open and a glance over her shoulder confirms the entrant as the only person who would dare interrupt tonight’s vigil, then she returns her attention to the window. A click, and the room darkens and falls silent as Val turns off the screens.

“No reason to listen to that scop,” she says quietly, a gentle hand resting between her shoulder blades.

Rosalind leans back into her touch, and strong arms wrap around her waist and pull her tight. Val leans down, rests her head on Rosalind’s shoulder, and she covers Val’s hands with her own.

“You’re probably right.”

“Probably?” Val laughs and presses a kiss to her temple. “Know I am. Shit’ll rot your brain.”

She hums a laugh and turns to look at her most ardent supporter. Dogtown feels like yesterday, but then she sees the fine spiderwebs gathered in the corners of Val’s eyes, the worry lines that have begun to etch themselves on her forehead, the grey hairs that have started to grow into her always sharp fade haircut. Rosalind doesn’t feel old until she sees the last decade reflected on her lover’s face.

She raises her hand, fingertips trailing along the buzzed hair above Val’s ear to the cold metal netrunner port at the back of her head, then twists and pulls her down for a kiss. When they part, Val turns Ros to face her and links their hands, twining their fingers together.

“Whatever happens, ’m with you. Know that, right?” 

Rosalind nods. Ever her loyal merc.

“After the results...” Rosalind trails off. “If they send someone—”

Val interrupts before she can even finish the thought. “Have to deal with me first. Saved you once before. Save you as many times as it takes.”

Her chest tightens and her eyebrows draw together as she gazes up at Val, at the woman who pledged her heart and life to her. She hopes it doesn’t come to that; she knows they won’t stop coming for her, but as long as they are together....

Chest tightening again, she blinks as she feels the sting behind her eyes. She frees one hand and traces the gold cyberware along Val’s cheek then cups it and pulls her down for a soft kiss.

“You’ve already saved me more than you know.”

[002yb]

AAAAAAAAAAA YOUR DICKJOYFIRE FIC????? OMG IM ON MY KNEES. i love kory and Jay and i grew fond of jayroy and jaydick is my absolute OTP and aaaaaaa. Your brain is justtttt. OmG i love all that you write. Would you consider writing more about the four of them together? Smothering Jay with love and him being the maiden heart he is♡

Anyways, im really a fan of your fics they are awesome

Ahhhhh, you're always so delightful @alexandraisapenguin thank you so much. ///u/// This turned out to be more general ot4 though ;u;

Gym Shenanigans

Friendly competition between the four of them that's really just the boys taunting and challenging one another and being motivating in all their dumbness.

And Kory is so fond as she smokes all of them. Scorched earth policy, sorry boys. ;)

But it's all good because the three of them are so (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) because wowie hot damn, look at their girlfriend go.

Something something they all benchpress each other and Jason loses it each time when all of them do him. Which omg what? Hot? Help?

Dick being the first though and it takes so much coaxing and Dick swears he's got this. Which he does. It's only a few reps, anyhow. Still, the moment Dick presses Jason up, Jason panics and flails and ends up throwing himself out of Dick's hold and landing on his chest and Dick wheezes because oh god. Meanwhile Kory and Roy are !!! because whoops, spotting is a thing and Jason is mortified forever because again, omg.

But Dick just laughs through his wheezing and holds Jason to him before he can run off and Jason is sweet and blushy as he hides in Dick's chest and it's cute.

Speaking of chests - Roy marveling Jason's pecs. Like how you can catch glimpses of it through the low cut of Jason's sleeves. Dick following suit once he notices Roy's staring. And Kory following along not long after and wow, she thinks she understands the infatuation with breasts now. Amazing.

Jason spitting and sputtering because wth Kory //A///

Kory saddling up next to her baby boy and comparing chests and laughing because it's impressive! Has Jason ever tried to hold anything in his cleavage? So convenient. Also-

(Also, unrelated thought: Jason laying on top of Kory and their chests being smushed together and Dick and Roy just blatantly staring until they're called out and it's ahahahha)

General muscle appreciation. Like Roy's back. Roy basking in the attention but also being sweetly sheepish about it. Just something with him waving them off and being all, 'oh stop, guys,' then promptly flexing his back muscles. Dorky sweetness and cute flirting ahhhhhhh.

But wait. Dick getting stared at and objectified by other gym goers because he's beautiful handsome gorgeous. And while it's uncomfortable, he deals. Nothing new, right?

Only Jason puffs up and is ready to throw down, just sending the nastiest glares and snarls at men and women alike. He's got Kory right there backing him up too while Roy uses his impressive back to act as a screen and the combination of it all lightens Dick's mood so much and he loves them all dearly. ;U;

Sauna. Where Kory basks in the heat and unintentionally raises the temp until her boys are toasted and she has to drag them out and fan them back to safe temps.

Shower. Where Kory suggests showering together and yeah, sure. Only Jason bails out of embarrassment, maiden at heart that he is.

[steevbuckk]

FAVORITE STUCKY FICS | 33/100

some short fics that i love 🥰

Brooklyn by @toli-a

[Post Avengers, 8 749 words, Teen And Up Audiences]

Summary:

"Captain America, what's your stance on gay marriage?"

Everyone knows that, by now. Everyone but Bucky.

Sexiest Man... Alive? by @otp-holic

[Post Endgame, 2 473 words, General Audiences]

Summary:

Steve has been away from the public eye for three years, and he decides to come back to be named Sexiest Man Alive.

Why?

Infinity by @andrea1717

[Post TWS, 1 258 words, General Audiences]

Summary:

Bucky and Steve spend a very special new year's eve together.

maybe bi guy by @yetanotherobsessivereader

[Wrong number AU, 3 338 words, Mature]

Summary:

Steve: i saw that guy again. i think i’m not as straight as i thought i was

Unknown number: i hate to tell you this but you got the wrong number pal. but hey, i’m bi. i’ve been there. i can talk you through it if you want

---

Or Steve embarks on a journey of self-discovery assisted by a helpful stranger who likes to make really bad puns

Cat Calls by @cable-knit-sweater

[Shrunkyclunks, 4 819 words, Teen And Up Audiences]

Summary:

When veterinarian Bucky gives Steve his personal number, he’s pretty sure he’s obvious enough in what he wants him to use it for. But Steve doesn’t call to ask him out for a drink, or dinner. No, when he ends up calling Bucky late at night, it’s not even for a booty call. It’s because of his newly adopted cat. And he continues to call Bucky about his cat. Until eventually…

———-

“Just uhm, doing my job,” he says, waving away the compliment. “So, do we have a name yet?”

“Cat.”

“Yeah she sure fuckin is,” Bucky chuckles.

Steve smirks back at him. “No, her name, I named her Cat.”

Bucky stares at him in disbelief, looking for a sign that it’s a joke. It’s not. He named his cat Cat . He’s not sure if that makes him more or less attracted to Steve. Still, he won’t stand for it.

#BeProud by @iamnelvenqueen

[Coming out, 9 021 words, Explicit]

Summary:

To say that Steve had thought about it would have been a lie. It wasn’t an impulse decision either, but it had just occurred to him in the heat of the moment a couple of days before.

He looked back over his shoulder at the sleeping body in his bed, incapable of preventing himself from smiling as he took in his lover’s open mouth and soft snores.

Yes, he was sure of himself. Even if he hadn’t thought about it for more than a few hours at most, he wasn’t about to take back his decision.

-

In which Steve Rogers decides to casually come out on Twitter on a sunny Sunday morning.

getting off (on a technicality) by MaddieWritesStucky (Madeleine_Ward)

[Modern AU, 4 510 words, Explicit]

Summary:

Steve looks exactly like his dating profile had advertised, with one glaring exception—the sheer size of him.

Apparently mass doesn’t translate to the small screen, because instead of getting your average beach muscle gym-bro like Bucky had been expecting, he’d instead been met with what has to be 200lbs of build-you-a-house, carry-you-up-a-mountain, wrestle-a-bear-and-win whole ass man, and it’s short circuiting Bucky’s delicate brain.

And he’s not hiding it particularly well, if the way Steve’s smirking at him when Bucky pulls himself together enough to actually look at his face is anything to go by.

In which Bucky most resolutely, definitively, uncompromisingly does not fuck on the first date…

…until he meets Steve.

more fics

[isleofair]

Obv I have to ask you about Nathan.

Ohgodohgodohgod

Thank you, my dear, for yet another chance to rant about Nathan 🥺🙏😍💖

First impression:

From the pilot episode: cool and competent (but not my thing, fire and cars and muscles? Naaah) -> GAY. VERY GAY OH WOW SO VERY GAY -> oh no, we're dealing with Stereotypical Bad Anime Gay dammit 😭😭😭

Impression now:

She's wonderful she's amazing she's the love of my life they're everything to me there is no character like her in all of history she has rewritten my brain completely I can no longer live without them I will love and adore and treasure her forever and ever amen. 😍💖😍💖😍💖😍💖😍💖😍💖

Favorite moment:

The full amount of feelings I have about this whole scene cannot be expressed, but I picked this one image of her embracing all the parts of herself that still sat a bit jagged on the inside, and were trying to hurt her, and saving herself with acceptance and love.

Just... yeah. 💖🥺💖

Idea for a story:

*glances at overflowing WIP/notes folder*

Uhhh... any of those? For this, let's mention the AU one where the heroes are F1 drivers and Nathan owns their own racing team.

Unpopular opinion:

She's hotter than Kotetsu 😜

No, okay, jokes aside, I don't know that any of my opinions about her are unpopular? I guess the one people might disagree more with is that I wish she had a different haircut (I don't love her current one).

Favorite relationship:

*waves helplessly at the pile of FireSky fanfic on her AO3 profile*

It's the one with Keith, of course. OTP for life. ❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜

Favorite headcanon:

For a long time, it was that Nathan doesn't feel cold because of her power. Which might still be (partially) true, given how light her clothes always look, but of course, what she's canonically physically immune to is heat. (And I feel bad about getting this one a tiny bit wrong in a couple of my stories.) So now my new favorite headcanon is that, based on all of my crazy math, they and Keith debuted as heroes in the same season, and as rookies they were both, like, raw cookie dough versions of their current selves, and many funny and/or cute shenanigans ensued because of how different they were 😂

(the ask game, in case anyone wants to play!)

[thebest-medicine]

#84 You’d better give up now or this is about to get a lot worse for ler!Sango and Lee!Miroku from Inuyasha please, if you have time?

Prompt 84 - "You'd better give up now or this is about to get a lot worse!"

A/N: omg i'm sooooo glad you sent me one for them I LOVE MIRSAN ugh the original otp of all timeeeeeee

…

“You’d better give up now, or this is about to get a lot worse, Monk!” Sango was straddling his lower back, an arm wrapped around the ankles she had pulled in and captured before her. Miroku’s legs strained awkwardly where she held them in a curve and tickled with her free hand along his soles.

“Bahahahahha! Sangohohohoho– yohohohou know I dohon’t give up sohohohoho easilyhehe!” Miroku cackled from his place beneath her. He may have been suffering, but he wouldn’t dare get out of this place willingly. 

“Alright. You leave me no choice.” She released his ankles, and shifted so that she was instead sitting over the backs of his thighs just above the knee. She shifted around so she was facing his head, and dug in.

“WahahahahHAHAHAIT!” Miroku gasped, his nervous system jolting. “WAAHAHA NOOOOO! HaHAH HELP! NOHOHOHOT THERE!” 

“Who are you calling out to, hmm? No one’s going to help you.” Sango teased, rolling her eyes even though he couldn’t see her. She squeezed mercilessly at the back of his thigh, just under his ass. He was absurdly ticklish there, she had found out once, with glee, and never let him forget it since.

He would cave eventually, Sango knew. Until then, she could enjoy the irony of practically groping him back – something he could use a good taste of. But, she could do it in a way that was so much more ..unbearable. 

Miroku snorted, cackling and squealing under her as she tickled furiously into his tendons and muscles. The squeezes sent shocks up his spine, directly to his brain to scramble any thoughts or hopes he may have had. 

Eventually, he’ll remember how this all started in the first place, and that he can make this end any time by simply yielding. Until then, he’ll shriek and laugh and scramble for any way to tolerate the unceasing sensation.

…

[more sentence starter fic prompts]

[other sentence starter fics]

[read this & further inuyasha drabbles on ao3]

[carlyraejepsans]

Hmmm... Undyne?

undyne for the ask game?

favorite thing about them: i love love LOVE how trope-y she is. I can't think about her too hard, especially in the context of the geno run, my brain just stops working. goes into overdrive. her role as the true hero of the story and the tragedy and how she SHOULD win, she WOULD win, not just because it's the right thing, but because thematically, for the kind of story undertale wants to tell, she SHOULD win against undefeatable evil (think how we do basically that against flowey/asriel in TP) BUT SHE DOESN'T. SHE CAN'T. because she isn't the protagonist. and get backup plan doesn't work either. she dies in vain. they all do, but her case is even more painfully ironic.

least favorite thing about her: eehhh my only gripe with the writing is the fact that her dialogue doesn't make a distinction if you only killed monsters in the RUINs or not. or like, if you killed 1/2 common monsters instead of a dozen. it cheapens her impact as a character imo.

favorite line: "The brain's the biggest muscle of all!!!"

brOTP: PAPYRUS. PAPYRUS. PAPYRUS. BESTIES OF ALL TIME FR

OTP: Alphyne. 'nuff said 2, electric boogaloo.

nOTP: idk asgore?? that's her dad afaic. making it romantic is such a waste of a good dynamic.

random headcanon: asgore taught her to play piano and she starts giving papyrus lessons on the surface as well :] they play together sometime. and when they're not competing to make the most noise, it actually sounds really, really good.

unpopular opinion: look i love when people make undyne butch in fanart and fic, we need more butch characters in this world, but canon undyne is NOT butch LMAOOO. she's just kinda masc

song i associate with them: gonna be bland and say Legends Never Die, lol. also Leave a Light On by Tom Walker for the alphyne feels

favorite pic of them: the cover of the piano collection where she's playing for everyone. it's very pretty, and i love the watercolor. honestly, all her illustrations in the piano collection music sheet book

[dangermousie]

The fact that there isn't just one but TWO airing Turkish shows about big bad mob men who will do anything to keep their damaged OTP who keeps saying she doesn't want them tho she does is a gift from god.

The way Farah, abused and mistreated by her monster of an ex keeps lying she's happy and etc etc to be with her kid but also to protect Tahir who the monster threatened to kill mmmmm...

She says she turned him in to the cops, this is after she demanded divorce, and he still won't believe.

He still finds her and begs begs begs her to tell him the truth, because he knows she would not be like that and it's just...

Like he's BEGGING! Turkish shows know there is nothing more delicious than a 6'3 wall of muscle killer utterly destroyed by and for one delicate woman mmmmmm.

And she brains him and leaves, calling him "my only love" and aaaaa the DELICIOUSNESS IS BEYOND!!!!

[queerofcups]

trying my luck with "you & your perfect girl"?

ok, so i'm trying out the tactic of just writing when it/what comes up and I'm sure I will have more thoughts on abortion in the coming months [insert mournful laugh here], but have 900 words of smut that I cut from the story but is definitely scaffolding that'll probably come up again. after this jack shakes it off and is like yeah, that probably doesn't reflect anything about my mental state or self-worth. jack/self-loathing/well-paid sex workers is my check please otp maybe

“Harder,” Jack says, between the thick leather between his teeth. The man, Carlo, doesn’t speak much English--that’s usually the case with the service Jack uses--but he understands this, and grunts as he redoubles his efforts to fuck Jack through the too soft mattress. 

Carlo is just like Jack likes them, broad shouldered and big handed. He’s almost too pretty, thick eyebrows manicured just enough for Jack to think about sending him back with a tip and a no thank you. 

But he’d shoved Jack into the thick wall of the penthouse right after he’d walked in the door, and the belt between Jack’s teeth had been his idea too. Jack had been halfway hard already with the thought of a man waiting on the other side of his door, and Carlo had gotten him there, cock bloodhot and throbbing, in a few minutes. 

Jack’s simple, he thinks. He’s got three requests for all the men that meet him in this hotel--and it's the same pleasantly trendy hotel with thick walls and too-soft beds in every city--and they’re all easy to follow. 

Fuck him hard. 

Come in him. 

Make it hurt. 

Carlo’s nails are short, but sharp and they dig into the meaty muscle of Jack’s ass, dragging him back from where ever his brain wants to go. Jack hisses and shoves back, just to feel the way Carlo stumbles but doesn’t move. He’s relentless, thick inside of Jack, hips close and hands everywhere. Jack can hardly breathe for the pressure of him, pressing Jack into the wall, pinching Jack’s skin between his knuckles, shoving in and in and in. 

Jack thinks, errantly, of being set on fire. The sudden absence of oxygen, the white and red slash of synapses firing. He thinks of his skin curling away and when Carlo yanks his head back to bury his teeth in Jack’s neck, his fingers curl into fists and he stares into the white, white ceiling of the room. 

“Come in me,” he barks, and then again, “Fucking do it, come in me.” 

He knows that other people like to talk. He’s had men come over who want to call him things, want to call him a bitch, or a faggot, or worse things. Probably, it hurts and humiliates and burns hot and bright for other men who want to hide the things they want. It’s water cooler chat to Jack, the kind of thing he’s said to guys on the ice who begrudgingly buy his whole team shots later. 

And still Jack’s chest blooms red, and he wants to cringe away when Carlo laughs and asks him, in thickly accented French, if that’s what’s what he wants. If he’s sure. 

“I’m not a bitch,” Jack grouses and arches his back up, clenches. He doesn’t know Carlo, doesn’t care if it's his real name. He can’t place his accent, hadn’t gotten a good look at the tattoos that wrap around his arms.

“Fucking come in me,” Jack says, and shoves his hips back, fucking up Carlo’s rhythm, forcing himself to take control of this encounter. It’s what he paid for, it's what he wants. 

And Carlo, bless him, does his job beautifully. He shoves Jack’s head forward, into the wall, just hard enough to hurt. He bends Jack’s arm back, behind him, and up, pulling him off balance. He shoves Jack forward, forward until he’s pressed against the wall, and it's impossible to ignore how hard he is. 

And he coos at Jack in broken French, asking him why he wants to be Carlo’s bitch, why he let a stranger in his room, in his body, if he didn’t want it so badly. Why he’s just like every other white man Carlo fucks, why they can’t just be real men and fuck like they want to, instead of paying for it.

Jack’s shoulder burns, his neck hurts from the way it's arched, his knee aches and he’s pressed against the wall, over and over again, and he’s wasting precious air to sob out, swearing again and again that he’s not a bitch, he’s not, he’s not, he’s not. 

Carlo comes grunting, once loud and then short, breathy little thumps of noise. Jack feels it all, sudden wetness, the thrumming of Carlo’s hips against his ass, the immediate, crashing strike of mortification. 

Jack is still hard, he’ll be hard until Carlo has a second to catch his breath, pop a pill maybe. He’ll be hard until he’s overstimulated, his asshole sore and his cock gone soft and hard again. Carlo will come until he can’t anymore, and then he’ll leave, pleased with whatever money Jack sends him, because Jack always overtips. 

Jack will lay in his pristine, unmussed sheets and think about this first moment and the feeling of come leaking out of him. He will press his eyes closed, tight enough to transport him somewhere else and when he finally comes, it will hardly matter. 

He’ll get cleaned up, and open the paper bag he’d picked up from the pharmacy a few hours before Carlo came over. He’ll open the package and pop a pill and he’ll think about what he wants from dinner. 

He’ll text Bitty, thumbing a heart onto his message, a reminder that Jack will be home the day after tomorrow. 

Night will fall and Jack will open and swipe through apps, dumb phone games and hook up apps. Hovers over profiles that offer bareback, faceless profiles offering pictures of every kind of cock he might want. He’ll feel the phantom sensation of Carlo and he’ll text Bitty one more time before he falls asleep.

[chicagosavant]

Thrawn and ar’Alani (you’re going to tell me these two aren’t shagging in dark-hideaways all through her command ship?? Whatev’s—only the purposely denying can’t see this. Zahn writes a smile onto Thrawn’s face. That never happens. Except Ziara/Ar’alani. Maybe Thalias, too—I can buy that…). But these two are OTPs all the way…

“…Why don’t you come to the Irizi homestead with me?”

“To your *homestead* [to meet the parents???]?” Thrawn echoed. “Are strangers even allowed?” A muscle in his check twitched. “Especially strangers from rival families?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care,” Ziara said. “I am blood and I am an honored member of the fleet who just helped save eight-thousand lives. I don’t know how far all of that will take me, but I’d rather like to find out. You game to find out with me?“

“I don’t know, “Thrawn said hesitantly “I don’t want you to get in trouble on my behalf.“

“I’m not worried about it,” Ziara said. “Did I mention that my grandfather was an amazingly passionate art collector?”

Thrawn smiled. “If I haven’t mentioned it recently, Ziara, you have a knack for seeking out and exploiting your opponents’ weaknesses. Very well. Shall we once again charge headlong into danger?”

“We shall,” Zara said. “Besides, we just survived an encounter with a malicious gas giant planet. Really, how bad could my family be?“

—

Excerpt from ‘Thrawn: Chaos Rising’…

—so, even in my non-canon AU spoof SpaceRockOpera crossover of StarWars/TTT, Firefly-Serenity/and the Keltiad, my OFC, after she and Thrawn have their wicked way with each other (enemies to friends dynamic…), she points him back to Ziara. —I’ve toyed with, and am warming to part of my AU narrative arc, having Ar’alani and Thrawn completely professional and never pursuing intimacy in the years they served the Defense Fleet together. And in the night before he’s enters exile, with no more consequences compromising career paths, they consummate their affection. And 7-10 years later, we’re discovering Un’hee, who’d been taken away from Ziara once her psionic navigating abilities had been discovered. Then, as part of Blue Sun Corp’s research with enhanced super-soldiers like River Tam with psionic abilities, collaborating with Black Sun Syndicate and the Virathi/Coroniad/Grysk commanding the multiple strands of this stage across a Wormhole and distant parts of the MilkyWay, amid other confrontations, it’s the Firefly crew that rescues Un’hee, whilst River Tam with my OFC (biokinetically gifted Keltoi medic, teaming with Luke Skywalker) following some unholy uses of an ancient bioquantum-valent protogenome that enables real time mutagenesis and tissue regeneration (in hybrid Reaver-clones…Vong-V-V-V-Vong…we see where this is going, but no reborn Palpatine and it’s NOT called Project Necromancer…), and reunites Un’hee with her mother. And, with Thrawn back in the picture advancing the interests of The Empire of the Hand, with Ziara leading the Chiss branch of military/space fleet, leaving Thrawn to put 2 and 2 together. Recalling that baby-making sex (as it’s termed when it’s a rollicking—swooning-no-blood-left-brain kind’a sex…) night from a decade before…

—anyone game for writing this plot-bunny? Does anyone even know what the Keltiad is (of the 5 folks who actually know that fandom on this hell-site—and if you do, tell me it wouldn’t make an awesome crossover concept merged with the Firefly and Star Wars aesthetic😜)…

[typingtess]

NCIS: Los Angeles Season 13 Rewatch:  “Genesis”

The basics:  The disappearance of an ONI Officer has the team running up against Iranian intelligence agents.  Callen continues to dig into his past.

Written by:  Andrew Bartels wrote or co-wrote "Allegiance", "Zero Days", "The Grey Man", "Humbug", "Fighting Shadows", "Driving Miss Diaz", "Angels & Daemons", "Where There’s Smoke…", "Glasnost", "Old Tricks" "Battle Scars", "Fool Me Twice", "Warrior of Peace", "Reentry", "The Prince", "Smokescreen", "The One That Got Away"/"No More Secrets" two-parter, "Yellow Jacket", "Missing Time", "If the Fates Allow", "Red Rover, Red Rover" and "Divided We Fall".

Directed by:  John P. Kousakis directed "Imposters", "Sacrifice", "San Voir" part one, "The Fifth Man", "Parley", "Inelegant Heart", "Chernoff, K.", "Active Measures", "The Long Goodbye", "Talion", "Glasnost", "Unleashed", "Party Crashers", "This Is What We Do" (episode 200), "Goodbye Vietnam", "Ninguna Salida", "The Guardian", "High Society", "A Tale of Two Igors", "Under the Influence", all of the Afghanistan scenes from "Iron Curtain Rising" to "Zero Days" in season five and all of Kensi’s injury/recovery storyline scenes from "The Queen’s Gambit" to "Sirens" in season eight.  

Guest stars of note:  Peter Cambor returns “MWD” as Nate Getz, Bar Paly returns from “All The Little Things” as Anna Kolchek.  Both Duncan Campbell as Agent Castor and Beckett Gunderson as Young Callen are back from “Pandora’s Box”, Ashwin Gore is back from “Divided We Fall” as Akhil Ali and Milissa Sears returns from “Lost Soldier Down” as Leah Novak.  Jere Burns as Arnold Baines, Layla Alizada as Dr. Roxana Jarrahi and Andrei Dolezal as Young Baines.

Our heroes:  Try to find an ONI Officer while Callen mucks around some more in his past.

What important things did we learn about:

Callen:  More flashbacks tie him to Katya’s trainer. Sam:   Knows the SAC for the FBI in the Middle East. Kensi:  Wants to do the right thing by Pilar.   Deeks:  Visiting the Refugee Relocation Center before talking to an immigration lawyer pal. Fatima:  Fatima Khadem. Rountree:  Working Ops today.   Kilbride:  Got a sexy call from Callen.

What not so important things did we learn about:

Callen: Moving. Sam:  Jogging on the beach with Kensi. Kensi:  Calling Rosa.   Deeks:   Gave Rosa’s phone number to Kensi. Fatima: Ghosting boyfriends. Rountree: Danny Tanner-like with his dating advice. Kilbride:  Using the firing range to wash the sexy Callen call from his brain.

Where in the world is Henrietta Lange?  Nobody knows but Callen has a question or two.

Who's down with OTP:  Not a lot of Deeks around but he gave Kensi Rosa’s phone number.  Happy wife, happy life.  Like the Ali pining for Fatima.

Who's down with BrOTP:  The Callen and Nate show was interesting.  

Fashion review:   Callen is wearing a dark shirt watching the Katya video.  The following day, it is the green and blue plaid button down.  Sam is jogging in a black hoodie over a white undershirt.  Later he’s in a black long-sleeve heavy tee-shirt.  Kensi is jogging in an off-white fleece jacket over a medium blue tee.  Later in the day, she’s wearing a white henley.  Fatima starts the episode working out in a red sweatshirt.  Working in Ops, she’s wearing a blue and white striped shirt under a dark blue jacket.  Deeks is wearing a pale purple hoodie.  In the field, Fatima is wearing a concert tee-shirt under a brown sweater.  Rountree is in a black sleeveless muscle tee-shirt working out.  He’s wearing a brown sweater with a green jacket later in the episode.  

Music: No tunes today except for a clip of a song by Googoosh.

Any notable cut scene:   Two:

As Fatima changes in the relocated wardrobe dressing room, Ali fills in Fatima about Dr. Jarrahi’s work.  She is working on changing mosquitos so she can help stop the spread of malaria.  Her detractors think she is trying to eliminate an entire species of insects.  Fatima said growing up in LA, there were no mosquitos, now the city is full of them.  Ali thinks they can bond over a shared dislike for the bugs.  Fatima snarks that she will then casually turn the conversation to the officer’s disappearance.  This goes into the scene where Fatima models her tee-shirt for Ali, who is a bit surprised she did that.  He thinks she looks cool but he doesn’t spend a lot of time with undergrads.  Fatima is relieved he does not.

From the episode, at the beach, Callen is trying to explain what he did to Leah.  Nate is shocked – Leah was a subject just like he was.  Callen brings up her work at Homeland Security and her redacted personnel file.  If she didn’t want to be found, Callen thinks his approach was better.  Nate mocks Callen’s alias.  Greg is the English version of Grisha.  

Cut from the episode is Nate getting back on topic, asking if Callen ever learned why Leah’s file was redacted.  He didn’t.  Leah isn’t with Homeland anymore, she’s freelancing as a negotiator for companies dealing with ransomware issues.  Her background is likely classified cyberwarfare.  

Nate asks if Leah spoke about the Drona project.  Callen says he and Leah had dinner a few times, he tried to ask about her past but she didn’t want to give him much.  Then Callen had to cut it off.  He wasn’t interested in going any further.  It wouldn’t be ethical to sleep with her, especially since he’s with Anna.  Nate asks about Anna, Callen says she’s good.

Quote:  Kilbride:  “I believe that this whole thing is Looney Tunes. If you had told me a year ago that I would be dealing with mischievous digital facsimiles of my agents trying to seduce me with prank phone calls, I'd have moved to a yurt in Mongolia, never to be heard from again, but, apparently, this is the idiotic world we have chosen to live in.”

This may be the finest rant ever uttered on this or any other program in the last year.

Anything else:  Setting up the old-school projector, Callen is once again watching the Noble Maidens ganging up on one of their own.  The Russian instructor can be heard saying “Seventeen”.  Suddenly, the young woman is not standing up, it is young Callen.  Callen has a flashback to being tested by as a child.  The man is saying “finish the job” in a similar tone as the man speaking to the Noble Maidens.  Anna wakes Callen up.  They need to finish packing.

Asking if she recognizes the voice, Anna does not.  But she is pretty sure that is Katya in the video.  Anna tells Callen she was not treated that way at the Institute.  Anna almost feels sorry for Katya – “Almost.”  She asks if Callen ever figured out what “Pembroke” meant.  Callen has a list of a few Pembrokes, including a breed of corgis, but he thinks it is the name of the instructor.  They need to finish packing – there are movers coming the next day.  Callen is going to watch the film one more time.

In the gym, Fatima is working the heavy bag and discussing her dating life with Rountree.  He thinks she “ghosted” the guy she’s currently dating.  Hasn’t spoken to him in three weeks.  She tells him ghosting happens after four.  After saying a little prayer, Fatima wants to know what she is doing wrong.  She meets these nice guys and after a few dates, she’s out.  “It’s me, isn’t it.”  Rountree thinks she has trust issues.  With the quality of people NCIS deals with on a regular basis, why wouldn’t Fatima have trust issues.  

Rountree mentions the deep fakes boyfriend and Fatima quickly corrects him.  They met once.  Though Rountree thinks there was a connection, Fatima tells him it wasn’t real – she was being played.  “But it felt real.”  Rountree feels it messed with her head and her heart.  Fatima thinks Rountree is well on his way to being a great dad like Danny Tanner.  Rountree finds her real problem – “you’re a jerk.”  The two laugh.

On the beach, Sam is jogging with Kensi.  Kensi is talking about Pilar, who learned how to speak English by watching horror movies.  Now she’s making her own movies at 14 with her phone.  Rosa asked Kensi and Deeks to watch over Pilar and Kensi doesn’t want to let her down.  Deeks is going to meet with the Refugee Resettlement Office before talking to a friend who is an immigration lawyer.  They’re going to find out how hard it is going to be for Pilar to stay.  Kensi remembers not having a safe home to go to – she wants more for Pilar.  Sam knows Pilar will be fine with Kensi and Deeks watching her back, “just like Rosa was.”

Wrapping up a call, Anna tells Callen she’s going to stay with Arkady for a while.  Callen reminds Anna they just signed a lease for a place by the marina.  He asks if she is breaking up with him.  She is not – she loves him.  The last few months have been hard and since the film reel showed up, Callen is obsessed.  Callen thinks the key to finding Katya is in the video – surely Anna understands that.  She does but she is tired of Katya defining their relationship.  They’ll take a step back, just for a little while.  Callen’s phone rings – it’s the Admiral.  Anna tells Callen to go, they’ll talk later.  An unhappy Callen answers the phone.  

In Ops, the Admiral reintroduces Fatima and Rountree to ONI Officer Akhil Ali.  Rountree asks what are they being investigated for now.  Nothing – Ali has been promoted to running ONI’s LA field office.  His biggest area of responsibility is running the collectors – he trains Naval Intelligence Officers to meet and collect foreign assets who provide intelligence information.  Ali seems impressed Fatima knows his job.  Kilbride explains one of the officers has gone missing and NCIS is there to help find her.  When the Admiral leaves, Ali asks Fatima for access to the system.  She’s going to get him set up.

Marching down the hall, the Admiral calls to an arriving Callen to go to the fishbowl office, “now.”  Kilbride has a voicemail from Callen and his desire to see the Admiral in a “sexy little sailor suit.”  Callen denies making the phone call.  The Admiral asks if Callen thinks he’d still be alive if he did.  Vance and hundreds of other federal officials got similar calls.  There were also inappropriate social media posts.  Callen looks sick – NCIS CYBER was supposed to be protecting him.  They were but Katya has bot accounts that are amplifying whatever she sends out.  Callen thinks it all goes back to the film reel and how Katya probably wants him sidelined.

Taking a seat, the Admiral tells Callens that the deep fakes were mostly a nuisance.  They are the product of a psychopathic troll.  But this escalation is interfering with Callen’s ability to do his job.  Callen tries to interrupt the Admiral but Kilbride plows on about Callen not being able to represent the agency.  Callen asks if Kilbride really believes that.  He believes the entire set-up is “Looney Tunes.”   Vance is not only worried about the trouble Katya has already caused but the trouble she is looking to cause.  He has asked Kilbride to remove Callen from the field until the deep fakes stop.  “What if they don’t stop?”  The Admiral does not have an answer.

With Sam and Kensi in the boatshed, Ali, Fatima and Rountree review the case.  The missing ONI Officer  is Maria Varza.  She’s been a collector for six years and has cultivated a relationship with Dr. Roxana Jarrahi.  Jarrahi is one of the top genetics in the world, working at The Curie Institute and MIT.  Varza was working on Jarrahi, whose research is funded by groups with ties to the Iranian military.  ONI wanted to see if Jarrahi’s work would lead to a genetic weapon – something that could target specific sections of DNA.  An inert virus could be released that would only hurt people with a specific genetic sequence or a family or a whole race of people.

Varza was just getting friendly with Jarrahi.  A planned dinner the prior night is where Varza was going to make her official offer.  Ali was hoping Fatima could get access to the restaurant’s security cameras.  Varza was supposed to call in this morning but didn’t.  Ali tried to call Varza with no luck.  He drove to her home to find the door unlocked and no Varza.  Kensi wants to know if Jarrahi's relationship with the Iranian military is deeper than just funding.  Jarrahi may have been collected – just not by the US.

In the firing range, a shooting Callen is joined by Nate.  Nate asks how Callen is doing, he’s fine.  Callen doesn’t want to talk about Katya, he wants to stop her.  So does Nate, who drew up a profile on Katya.  Callen’s already read profiles on Katya by both the FBI and CIA – she’s a sadist driven by revenge.  Nate disagrees – she’d driven by obsession.  When only plays out, like Anna, another pops up – Callen.  If they could identify a new obsession, they could draw her out.  Callen thinks about an old obsession he thinks he found, though Nate may think it’s crazy.  Nate is not a fan of the word crazy.

Checking out Varza’s house, the place is not a mess.  Kensi finds her keys right away so if she was taken, they didn’t bother to lock up the house before going.  Sam thinks she may have run.  Kensi asks about Callen, who says he’s fine.  Sam doesn’t believe Callen.  There is no computer or cell phone in the house.  Rountree in Ops can’t trace the phone – it’s shut off.  With only external security cameras, Varza’s car is seen pulling into her garage but the system was turned off at 2:14AM.  Sam wonders if Varza took her system offline and is selling secrets.  No witnesses, no cellphone, no computer – they don’t have much.  Looking at Varza’s car, they have one set of computers.

An unhappy Nate just finished watching the Katya video.  Nate asks Callen if he’s sure he’s heard that voice before as a child in Hetty’s version of the Institute.  The KGB man was also involved in the CIA project.  Callen believes that Katya was looking for the man in the video when she was stationed in the US as a spy.  The film reel was her only lead.  “You think I’m crazy,” Callen says to Nate, who doesn’t like the word.  He switches to delusional.   Nate explains that Callen could be seeing similarities in his and Katya’s upbringing.  That would make the instructor sound the same.  But it isn’t impossible for the instructor was KGB – the CIA took a lot from the Russians, including the Drona project from the Institute of Noble Maidens.   Callen stops Nate – how does he know that the Drona program is based on a Russian program.  “Admiral Kilbride told me.”  That’s news to Callen.  Nate is surprised the Admiral kept that secret but Callen brings up breaking into a sealed archive and how he was almost fired for that.  “Since I’m half way out the door,” Callen wants to explore what the Admiral knows.

Wearing a concert tee-shirt under a brown jacket, Fatima asks Ali how she looks.  He says she looks cool but he doesn’t hang around much with college coeds.  Fatma would hope not.  Usually, Jarrahi has lunch at the university cafeteria at 12:30PM but she’s fasting for Ramadan, as is Fatima and Ali.  Ali tells Fatima is he also going to the mosque.  She’s glad to hear it.  Ali asked if she had plans for Eid but Fatima say she usually does something with her family.  

Watching what’s going on, Rountree waits a beat before updating Fatima and Ali on Varza’s credit cards and bank accounts – nothing there to indicate she was up to something.  Looking into the Varza’s car’s computer, the trunk was opened and closed at 8:16 PM around when she left the restaurant.  It was opened again six-minutes before the security system was taken offline.  Varza was kidnapped.  They didn’t break in, they were hiding in the trunk of her car.

As the Admiral is about to go into the gun range to purge the memory of Callen’s voicemail, Callen confronts Kilbride about the Russian connection.  The Admiral is not happy with Nate who broke confidentially.  Nate pushes back – no patient-doctor confidentially between them.  The Admiral brings up the idea of classified material but Nate pushes back again.  He’s there to help Callen.  Callen explains his theory about Katya looking for someone from the Drona project.  The Admiral thinks Callen sounds crazy, causing Nate to flinch.  Callen asks and the Admiral confirms that the Drona project was based on the Institute of Noble Maidens.  The name Pembroke means nothing to the Admiral.  Callen storms off.

The Admiral goes off on Nate, who instead of pulling Callen out of a rabbit hole is pushing him down deeper.  Knowing Callen for years, with or without him, Nate knows Callen will see this through.  

On campus, a casually dressed Ali is wearing headphones and pretend working on a computer.  Fatima passes him as she approaches Jarrahi.  Introducing herself as Fatima Khadem, Fatima sits down to speak to Jarrahi.  Fatima is so happy to meet another Iranian scientist.  Explaining that she’s graduating in a few weeks, Fatima is waitlisted for the graduate program in bio-chemistry.  Jarrahi can do nothing to help Fatima with that.  Ali tells Fatima that Jarrahi is a workaholic, focus on her research.  Speaking glowingly of Jarrahi’s work, Fatima asks what is holding it up.  “Fear.”  Saying she has a lot of work to do, Jarrahi dismisses Fatima.  

Ali tries to move to plan be – wealthy parents who will fund her research.  Fatima pulls out her phone and starts to put in her earbuds.  Googoosh, a popular Iranian singer starts playing so Jarrahi can hear.  Fatima blames the Bluetooth sync.  Jarrahi is a fan.  Fatima has tickets to see Googoosh at the Hollywood Bowl that summer, as does Jarrahi.  Fatima isn’t surprised – “Pretty sure half of Tehrangeles will be there.”  Fatima has a favorite song – “Gharibe Ashena” – and hopes Googoosh sings it at the concert.  “Oh, she has to.  If she doesn’t, the crowd will revolt.”  Fatima will lead the revolt.  Jarrahi starts chatting with Fatima.

Showing Nate the files he has of the other subjects, Callen admits he hasn’t ID’d many of them.  The ones he has, most are dead.   Two died in action, two died by suicide.  The only one alive is Leah.  Nate asks if Callen has spoken to her – he has.  Did she recognized the voice, Nate asks.  Callen has some explaining to do.  

At his desk, Deeks has his laptop opened when Kensi arrives.  He’s catching up on the Varza case – “where’s Sam?”  Sam is at the university as back-up.  He dropped Kensi off at the office.  Kensi asks about the Pilar.  There is a lot for Deeks to go through.  He doesn’t miss being a lawyer.  Pilar’s parents were murdered by a gang and the gang threatened Pilar too.  Kensi is upset for Pilar.  The good news is that Pilar has a strong case for asylum.  Kensi and Deeks need to find someone who Pilar can talk too about what happened.  If she can be comfortable explaining what happened, it will help her case.  Kensi thinks of Nate or someone who Nate could suggest.   Nate sounds like a good idea to Deeks.

Rountree joins Kensi and Deeks with security cam footage from the restaurant.  Varza and Jarrahi enter around 8PM.  Two men are just behind them.  One of the men leaves around the time Varza’s trunk was opened.  The second man stayed inside to watch Varza and Jarrahi.  Varza left about 8:38PM as did Jarrahi, but they did not leave together.  The two men are not coming up in a facial rec search.

Nate is surprised Callen tried to trick Leah.  He explains that with her redacted file, he wondered if she was hiding something.  Pulling up to her home, Callen explains why he broke it off with Leah before going “oh” in recognition.  Callen knocks on Leah’s door – “we need to talk.”  In her backyard, Callen is playing the audio for the Noble Maiden instructor.  Leah went to a special school because she had ADD.  She’s stunned this is why Callen lied to her.  Nate tries to cover for Callen – as an agent, it is hard for Callen to trust people.  As someone who works in cyberspace, Leah doesn’t need to be told the world is full of liars.  She asks them to leave.  Callen asks if Pembroke means anything to her.  Leah tells him to go to hell.

While Fatima and Jarrahi area walking and talking about science, Sam joins Ali who is following the women.  There are no IDs from ONI on the two men who tailed Varza and Jarrahi into the restaurant.   They are likely Iranian intelligence agents with non-official covers.  This makes finding Varza harder.  

Through comms, Sam tells Fatima to push Jarrahi harder.  Talking about Jarrahi being new to LA, Jarrahi says she works all the time.  She hasn’t even seen the ocean in her five months in LA.  Fatima talks about the number of Iranian ex-pats in LA and Ali knows Jarrahi is lying about not knowing any.  Varza’s cover was as a pharmaceutical businesswoman from Tehran.  Fatima tries to weave Varza’s cover into the conversation but that tips off Jarrahi, who storms off.

The two men who grabbed Varza are now following Fatima.  Sam has Ali follow Jarrahi and tells him to approach her after she’s clear of the men.  As Fatima is getting into her car, the two men approach.  She asks if she could help them.  They order Fatima to come with them.  Sam arrives saying he’d like the same thing.  When he says “Federal Agents”, the men run.  Sam follows one who is nearly hit by a truck.   He and Sam fight.  Sam wins.  As Fatima chases the other man, Ali holds up his ID and tells the man to stop.  He gets run over for his trouble.  The man trips and Fatima keeps him on the ground.  While handcuffing the second man, Fatima asks Ali about Jarrahi.  She’s with campus security.  Ali has a busted up nose for trying to help.

In the main part of the boat shed, Jarrahi tells Fatima and Ali that she cut dinner short because Varza said she was ONI.  Varza wanting Jarrahi to spy for ONI was “the most ridiculous thing I ever heard.”  She would have laughed if she wasn’t so angry.  Ali says she takes money from the Iranian military, a military that is interested in genetic weapons.  She claims that she does not do business with the military – any military.  She’d like to help find Varza but she can’t.  Jarrahi would like to leave but since they don’t know the names of the two men in interrogation right now who were following Jarrahi, it may not be safe.  Besides, they are still looking for Varza.

Over comms, the Admiral has an update.  As Ali brings Varza to the upstairs interrogation room, Kilbride heard from the FBI.  The two men in interrogation with Sam are Iranian intelligence agents who will likely die before talking.

Back on the beach, Nate wants to look at the Drona files – maybe he can help figure out who some of the subjects were.  While Nate knows Callen feels he’s back at square one, Nate believes Callen is making progress.  Callen drops the bomb that Anna moved out.  Nate is sorry.  Callen wonders if he is ruining his life more than Katya is.  Nate talks about Katya’s obsession with Callen feeding Callen’s obsession with Katya.  If he stops obsessing on Katya will she do the same.  Nate says no because she’s…. struggling to find the word he goes with crazy – “pure, unfiltered, bat poop crazy town.”  

Callen gets a call from Leah.  A few years ago, she reconnected with one of her foster moms.  The woman gave Leah some personal belongings including a special ed enrollment form with an address in Cypress Park.  She texted a photo of the document to Callen.  

Since the two men aren’t talking, Sam wants to backtrack their movements.  Kensi, Deeks and Rountree pop up on the plasma.  Deeks has an idea he thinks is solid gold, Kensi is worried he’s overselling it.  One of Jarrahi’s biggest funders is an Iranian-American businessman, Reza Shaheen.  One of the Iranian Intelligence Agents called Shaheen that morning.  Since Shaheen is out of the country, why call?  According to Rountree, Shaheen is closing his LA businesses but he still has one property – a warehouse in Hawthorne.  Kensi and Deeks will meet Sam at the warehouse.

At the address Leah sent, Callen and Nate are looking around.  There is a sign “Plants for Sale”.  Going to the back of the house, there is a man tending a number of bonsai trees – trees he’s shaped into what they are today.  That’s not creepy at all.  Callen stops – he recognizes the voice.  The man faces Callen – he is an older gentleman.  Callen remembers him as a younger man.

The man introduces himself as Arnold Baines.  Callen is too stunned to talk.  Nate tries to fill in, asking about a plant to buy but admitting he doesn’t know much about plants.  Baines says most people don’t.  If it was up to Baines, he’d teach kids about flowers in grade school.  Give them a lily, let them nurture it and then take it away so the kids can watch it wither and die.  Yeah, not creepy at all.  Nate thinks it is a little intense for elementary school kids.  Explaining that kids are tougher than people think, the children will learn the true way to respect life.  

Suddenly chatty Callen asks if that is why Baines works on bonsai trees – there are comparisons to foot bonding.  Baines disagrees – bonsai does not stunt growth, it encourages it.  Baines even corrects the way Callen says bonsai – “it’s Japanese.  It’s a beautiful language.”  Baines spoke it years ago but is out of practice.  Callen tries some Russian but Baines plays dumb.  Callen pushes because it is obvious Baines speaks Russian.  Offering Nate a snake plant – one of the hardiest houseplants out there.  Doesn’t need a lot of water or light, just time.  

Returning to the armory, Sam, Kensi and Deeks did not find Varza.  Sam knows the SAC in the FBI’s Middle East office, he can get Shaheen picked up – it isn’t over.  The Admiral disagrees.  LAPD found Varza an hour ago.  She was in a state of delirium about a mile from her house.  The State Department orders NCIS to release the Iranian intelligence officers for the greater good – “or so they claim.”  Nobody wants to ruffle feathers.   The case is closed for now.  Shaheen is on their radar however.

In the boat shed, Fatima apologizes to Jarrahi.  Jarrahi is sorry the world doesn’t see her research for the good she wants to do.  Castor walks her out.  Ali arrives.  Varza had benzodiazepine in her system – it is a drug used to extract information during interrogations. Since it is almost sundown, Fatima asks Ali to break the fast.  He offers her three dates to break to the fast.  She jokes about one date and then see how things go.  It takes him a second to catch on.  The dates got a little smushed when it was tackled.

In the bullpen, Deeks gives Kensi the phone number for Rosa’s aunt.  Kensi calls immediately.  She and Rosa chat while a happy Deeks watches his happy wife.  

Callen is watching the video again when Nate arrives.  He’s sure it is Arnold Baines in the video.  Checking out the house where Baines lives and is growing his plants, it was purchased in 1986 from a behavioral psychiatrist named Howard Pembrook.  The only a slight spelling difference.  Pembrook died in 1986 on record.  But Arnold Baines is Pembrook.  Callen is 100% sure, Nate wants to look at it tomorrow with fresh eyes.  

Later that night, Callen starts looking around Baines’s house.  All the plants are gone.  Anna calls to apologize.  She wants to move in with Callen, she doesn’t want to take a step back.  Callen promises his obsession is over.  Lying to her that he’s finishing up at work, he’ll be home soon.  Callen looks at a security camera on the house.  Baines sees Callen and says “Seventeen”.  

What head canon can be formed from here:  I remain so done with the Callen childhood nonsense but am intrigued by Jere Burns being involved.  Burns is a quality character actor who has been terrific in any number of programs.  He was the head of the Dixie Mafia in Justified.  If he returns, I may be interested but otherwise, nothing new here.  Nothing at all.

I’m sort of into the Ali-Fatima ship.  Hope she hops aboard soon.

Episode number:  This is episode 17 of season 13, episode 297.

[drabbles-mc]

send me a made-up fic title and i'll tell you what i would write to go with it.....

"Lemon Trees and Bees"

The way this is really making me flex my brain muscles for some reason 🤔

I feel like maybe the reason something didn't come to me right away is because this has such happy feels around it and I've been in such an angsty space lately lmao. 😂

But this does give me big Outer Banks vibes. Do they grow lemon trees in OBX? I don't know! But in this fic they would! 😂 I'm just picturing a cute little picnic fic for my dramatic and messy OTP John B and Sarah. They pack a couple bags and they sneak into some swanky orchard on the island because it seems like it would be a good place to have a picnic. And everything is all fine and good and fun until they get caught where they shouldn't be. Nothing bad really ends up happening but they have to throw all their stuff back into their bags and take off quick so they don't get fully caught in places they aren't supposed to be. But they would be laughing as they run and hop fences.

Just some good little fluffy bits of chaos for my ridiculous teenagers 🥰

Make up a title and I'll tell you what fic I would write to go with it!

[nyansense-the-nyanbinary]

[atsukawolfcat]

Another idea ft Traveller

Yup, brain got boiling for another this morning (its always 3/4/5AM when I get these I swear)

But yo, imagine Isekai!Reader BUT

Instead of physically getting isekai'd, you soul swap with your Traveller. In my case I will use Lumine since its who I have.

Basically, you either fall asleep or get KOd (or truck-kun works too lol) somehow, and next thing you know you wake up as Lumine/Aether. I'm sure I am not the only one who came up with this (if I did, wut?) but I see several possibilities to happen.

You get hunted down by the other twin plus the other characters you had befriended (angst galoreee)

Just hunted by the other twin whilst you try to get used to the (temporary?) new body and powers. Muscle memory for the win baybeee, or train with your main team!

You successfully do not get voted out as the imposter (woop) but uh oh, you have to either continue at the current story point or restart all over again

Shennanigans. All the goofing about. Endless goofiness and playtimes with your faves (fluff! and bonus: I GET TO HUG XIAO AND DILUC T^T)

All the shippers get the opportunity for their OTP (pfft Chilumi vs Dilumi vs Xialumi vs etc...hmmm)

Could also double as Creator!Reader (ahh yes my go to favorite)

And this is just on YOUR side, your POV. Imagine the goofiness of Lumine in my body (I am so sorry babes, you drew the short stick with me. Am pretty boring). I love thinking things sometimes, brings joy 10% of the time