#because Johnny is an old two and three timer

[yourbuerokrat2]

Ooooh, I have this high school AU where Q is still a Q but goes by Quinn and Jean-Luc is the captain of the football team! Do you think you could do a lunch room scene with them where things get a little flirty? 👀👀👀

Fun fact about Picard: He actually was quite a jock and sportsman in his youth and Academy years so for him to be the captain of the football team is not something entirely unthinkable in an AU and he was also a flirt in his youth.

Surprisingly enough even the Q used to be 'young' once. They don't and never had something like an aging process but when they first came to existence there was a certain immaturity and lack of knowledge and understanding that was typical for the yet inexperienced. Most Qs tended to gain the experience and understanding by observing, understanding that they as Q were different and more powerful than nearly everyone else in the universe. Preferring to eep to themselves for the most part.

Q however was different. He did not so much want to observe the species around them than to interact with them. The first.. interactions of a new Q and the species that have the misfortune to meet them did not go well and Q found out that he did not really like breaking his toys. He found out that he liked simply not understanding his toys even less. So, by what to the human would be the age of ten but vastly, vastly older in Q years, q tried to actually communicate with the other species but that did not work out as planned since they all reacted the same when they saw him in his actual form and being worshipped and feared did lose his touch after a while.

To keep their more chaotic and potentially dangerous youngest sibling from causing too much destruction and disorder because of his ever growing boredom and disssatisfaction, the eldest Qs devised a plan to give him a more.. permanent distraction.

Give him a task and make it seem important. First, there was the question as to what task would be fitting, something important but not important enough that failure would end up catastrophic. How about looking in the future and see what species provides somewhat of a danger to the order of the universe in the long run. A species that would actually fit Qs current need of play and distraction.

Humanity was the one species they came up with. There had of course been others, but many of the alternatives could prove to have a rather influence on Q and humans, in the end, seemed harmless enough of one.

So, the task was to get an understanding of a species that could pose a threat to the universe as a whole. This was not entirely true, but it would be true enough for Q.

Now that the place and the task was clear, for a species like the Q there was also the question of when 'when'. Human history was a rather violent one after all and they would need to put Q someplace and sometime where he would not be able to change the course of the species overtly much.

The 24th century seemed promising enough. Now what time and place exactly? Considering Qs current age and maturity a 'high school' wold be best but which one?

One Q brought up that since they were already planning the Trial for Humanity as Qs little pet project for the future they might as well choose the Defendant now. Someone that actually had a chance of winning and who would be able to hold Qs attention.

Going through various prominent figures of this time period they came to the conclusion that some of them would get along too well or too badly with Q and then they came across Captain Jean-Luc Picard. Incorruptible, always professional, stick-up-his-you-know Captain Picard who could proof to be just the stable rock Q would need.

Captain Picard however wasn't always like this as they found out. Oh well, the Continuum was sure that even in his less than ideal years he would be able to proof to be enough of an entertainment to Q as was currently necessary.

Telling Q that he was needed to go through high school for a couple of years as a human (yes Q a few of your powers will temporarily be taken away but not all) in France.

And.. so at the equivalent age of 15 Q entered high school with a fake, self-made 'family' (because the rest of the Continuum did not really want to be an active part of this). Q was.. utterly bored during lessons. Which was understandable considering even with his lack of maturity he still had to dumben down significantly to even talk to these organics. Quinn, as he decided to call himself, had therefore become a strange bland of trouble maker and star student. Always excelling at everything except for sports while also putting zero effort in his attitude and homework.

There was always something that would go mysteriously wrong around Q whenever the entity was getting too bored or simply felt that an authority figure was getting too comfortable with the idea that Q actually listens to them.

Needless to say, Q was also known not to be the most social of students. Not because he was introverted, far from it. It was his confidence, a confidence that has long since reached the border over to arrogance, that made him a bit unbareable to others except for those who hoped he could provide some help.

There was however one other person whose ego was able to rival even that of Quinn. 'Johnny', whose actually name was Jean-Luc Picard, was the captain of the football team. A star student in everything including sports, a bit hot-headed and a potential trouble maker but it all was within boundaries. Because 'Johnny' wanted to join the Academy and he knew that he needed a good recommondation and marks to reach that particular goa. If nothing to say about training. But all that did not seem to bother the young french man all that much, very sure that he would not only be able to join the Academy, against his fathers expressed wishes, but that eh would also exceed there too and even become a Captain of a starship.

Johnny was also by the time he reached his 18th birthday quite the flirt and although there was a preference for women he was also not all that adverse otherwise.

Years later, when Q would once again be used to be entirely a Q and no longer having a human body that had such horrible things like hormones, Q would blame his behavior entirely on his human body. When he met Picard later, only a few centuries later for Picard but years upon years and millenia later for Q, the entity would call it destiny.

Because Picard proved to be the distraction that the Continuum wanted him to be.

Football games were watched, some flirty cheerleaders routine went bad out of inexplainable reasons and Q somehow always found a way to make himself the center of attenion, including Picards, whenever he wanted to be. Which with the passage of time became more and more often.

It all came to a head in a lunch room, not that Q really ate or even pretended to eat. He was only recently even visiting this horrible room if only to get himself a place at a certain table. Q knew for a fact that today there would at least be two places free at Picards table due to a strong cold and a broken leg respectively.

Q was.. nervous as he went with his food that he did not for one second entertain of actually eating towards Picards table. There were other people there as well, but Q did not really.. care at all about of their names or existence.

Not even bothering to ask wether he even was allowed to sit down, Q simply took the spot opposite to Picards as his own.

The other members at the table looked towards their captain, who was strangely amused by Qs actions.

'I have been wondering when you would do this' was Johnnys greeting to Quinn.

This was and would be for a long time the only time that anyone managed to surprise a Q.

'Because I have been noticing how much you want me to notice you', Johnny said as he leaned forwards towards Q with a charming half-smile.

Jean-Luc Picard just single handedly threw plan A and B of an inexperienced but still self-proclaimed all-knowing being somewhow at the same age as him but also so much older than even earth itself proverbially out of a window,

There were a lot of things, many more suave and clever sounding alternatives, but what actually left Qs mouth was

'And have I succeeded`?' mimicking the human by also moving forwards pushing aside his lunch so there was not much between them aside from the table.

'Enough so that I have left a spot open for you at this table for weeks now even though you never show up here.'

'Why did you never approach me?'

The charming smile of Johnnys turned self-assured and almost arrogant in its confidence. For once, Q did not dislike someone that should be lesser than him expressing such feelings of almost superiority in front of him.

Did not dislike it at all.

'When people want me they come to me, Quinn. Not the other way around.'

'And what do you do when you want someone?'

'I leave them a spot at my table and hope for them to get the hint. And when do they do arrive, I ask them out. So, how about this friday at eight?'

Q, thanks to this strange human body, actually blushed.

'Where to?'

'It's a surprise but trust me. I never disappoint.'

[itsadamcole]

arranged - pt.2

fem!reader x drew mcintyre

reader and Drew go to America for reader’s surprises ...

word count: 5.5k+

warnings: prince!drew, just a lil bit angsty, definitely more fluff than part 1, smut :)

— and here’s part 2. enjoy —

part 1 || masterlist || request an imagine here

~ 18+ content below - read at your own risk ~

You and Drew land in Orlando. It's late January, and a huge temperature difference. It feels more like summer in Florida than it does in Scotland, where it's super cold right now.

A smile hasn't left your lips since you took off, and you're excited to see Candice.

Speaking of Candice, she waits by baggage for you. When you see her, you drop Drew's hand and your things before running over to her. You hug her tight and she says, "Okay, okay. Relax, princess. It's nice to see you."

"It's nice to see you too," you say, looking at her. "I haven't seen you since the wedding."

Candice laughs and says, "It wasn't that long ago." She looks at Drew. "Your husband has gotten handsomer since I last saw him."

You giggle and say, "It hasn't been that long, Candice."

She smiles and says, "So, anyway. Come on. The trainers and doctors want to give you a full physical at Full Sail to make sure you're cleared to be in the match this week on NXT."

Smiling, you say, "Sounds great." You look back at Drew. "Ready?"

He nods and says, "Of course."

Candice drives you both to Full Sail University, where NXT is broadcasted from. She asks questions about what married life is like, how Scotland is, and how it's been over there since you married Drew.

It's a short drive to Full Sail from the airport so she doesn't get to many questions in.

During the physical, the doctors and trainers make sure your in tiptop shape to compete. You've lost some muscle mass since you haven't trained in months but it's not that big of a deal. They do the whole work up.

After you've been medically cleared to compete, Hall of Famer Triple H finds you. He says, "Y/N, welcome to Full Sail. We're very happy to have you here as part of our roster in NXT, even though it's for a short amount of time."

You smile and say, "Thank you, Mr. H."

He hands you a black leather folder and says, "Inside, you'll find a part time NXT contract that will have you as part of the NXT roster for six months. Your husband says that after six months, you will no longer be able to compete. As a part timer, you're slotted to be in three matches, one match every two months."

Your eyes widen and you look at Drew before you say, "I thought this was a one match deal."

"I pulled some strings," Drew says before winning at you.

Triple H says, "As of right now, your matches will be against Candice this Wednesday at NXT, a match against an opponent of your choice at Takeover: London in two months, and a match against an opponent of your choice at Takeover: Glasgow in four and a half months."

Your jaw almost hits the floor and you say, "Takeover matches? Like, actual pay-per-view matches."

Everyone in the room laughs and Triple H says, "We wanted to make your last few matches memorable ones. I've spoken with William Regal about this and he's on board. Are you?"

Quickly, you read over the contract and sign it. "I'm on board," you say.

"Welcome to NXT, Y/N," Triple H says, holding out his hand.

You shake his hand and smile. "Thank you for this opportunity," you say.

He smiles and walks off. You look at Drew and he has a huge smile on his face.

"I haven't seen ya so happy about something before," he says.

You smile back at your husband and you say, "I'm living my dream because of you, Drew. Thank you."

Drew says, "I just got us here. Yer talent is the reason yer living yer dream."

"You've never seen me in the ring before," you say, giggling.

Your husband says, "I get t'see ya in the ring on Wednesday."

You smile and shake you head, leaving to go to the hotel to get some sleep so you can train all day tomorrow before Wednesday.

***

Wednesday gets here too quickly. You've brought your old gear with you to wrestle in. It's definitely more revealing than you remember.

You stand in your little dressing room and look in the mirror at yourself.

The shorts got tighter and shorter, and the crop top now tightly hugs your chest. Your cleavage is very exposed and you hope to God that you don't have a wardrobe malfunction while in the ring.

Now that you're the princess of Scotland, you have a lot to be conscious about.

Someone knocks on your door as you're tying up your boots. "It's me," Candice says. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah," you say.

The door opens and Candice walks in. She smiles when she sees you in your gear. "Damn, you looked good in the gear then and you look good now," she says. "Anyway, I was thinking. I want to cut a promo before our match tonight. Just a short one. I'll say how a princess shouldn't be in the ring with someone like me and we can go from there."

You nod and finish lacing up your boots. "Sounds good," you say. "I'm assuming that my signing has been a secret?"

Candice nods and says, "Yeah. Drew's being kept out of the crowd until our slot so it doesn't give it away too early that you're here."

Someone calls your name and Candice's name. It's time.

"I've never been so ready to get back in a ring," you say. "Ever since I left, it's been marriage and princess lessons. I'm ready to wrestle again."

Candice smiles as the two of you walk to the backstage area. "You better be," she says.

Several NXT superstars are in the backstage area. The Undisputed Era, Finn Balor, Io Shirai, Timothy Thatcher, Tommaso Ciampa, Rhea Ripley, Johnny Gargano, Indi Hartwell, and Shotzi Blackheart just to name a few.

You stretch out as you wait for your music to hit.

It's been too long since you felt this rush of adrenaline. Before every match and every promo for Ring of Honor, you'd feel a rush of adrenaline to get you pumped up. You last felt this in your last ROH match a few months ago. It's been too damn long.

Candice's music hits and she walks out. You listen to what she says carefully.

"Rumor has it we're in the presence of royalty tonight," Candice says. "Apparently some princess signed with us a few days ago? That's the rumor anyway. I don't think she even deserves to be in an NXT ring."

That's when you're handed a microphone before your music, I Like It Heavy by Halestorm, hits. Of course it's a clean version of the song because this is WWE but it's fine. You're making your entrance for the first time in months.

The crowd loses it as you walk toward the ring in your sparkly red and black gear. You step into the ring.

The music fades out and you're face to face with Candice. She smirks and asks, "Oh, did I hit a nerve, princess?"

You hold your microphone up and say, "I don't deserve to be in an NXT ring?" You scoff. "Please, Candice. I've fought to be here."

Candice says, "You're Scotland's princess. That's the only reason you're here."

These comments are hitting you hard, but you fight through.

"Listen here," you say. "I am a NWA Women's World Champion, a two-time NWA Women's World Tag Team Chanpion, and Impact Knockouts Champion. I deserve to be in this ring for my talent, not by my title."

Candice says, "Then let's go. You're dressed. I'm dressed. Let's get a referee out here."

The crowd cheers and you yell "bring it" into the microphone before throwing it down.

The match begins shortly after. You have Candice in a headlock and you're trying to bring her down onto her knees. She pushes you off of her into the ropes. You bounce off and hit her with a clothesline.

You say, "Oh, look. The princess is the only one still standing."

The crowd laughs and Candice hits the mat before getting up. You're locked in a grapple with her a few seconds later. After a bit of struggling, Candice knees you in the stomach. You cry out and clutch your stomach, falling to your knees. She hits you with a running knee to the jaw, and you sell it well. You fall into your back, knees bent with your feet beneath you.

Candice pulls at your hair to get you up, and the ref warns her of the hair. She says, "Get out of my ring."

You snarl, "Go to hell."

Then you elbow her hard. She backs off you, creating enough space for you to perform a spinning heel kick. She falls but you get her up into your shoulders into a fireman's carry.

You hit the Falcon Arrow on her and go in for the pin.

One. Two. Three. The bell rings and your music blares. The crowd goes insane. You spot Drew in the front row where he would mostly be off camera. He's looking at you in awe as he applauds. You smile as the ref holds your arm up, declaring you the official winner.

***

Days pass by since your match with Candice. It's all you talk about whenever you get the chance. Drew just smiles and listens as you tell him about the rush you felt being back in the ring.

You're driving to your hometown, a little suburb outside of Manhattan. It's been a quiet ride, and that's because Drew is asleep.

Timezones and jet lag have not been your friend during this trip, but it's easier for you to get used to the time change than it is for Drew.

You pull up to your childhood home and tap Drew's shoulder. "Hey, sleeping beauty," you say. "We're here."

He stirs and looks out the window. You smile and he says, "This is yer old house? It's so small."

"I didn't have much," you say. "My parents scrapped together what they could to pay for wrestling school when I was 14 until I was 17. I told myself then that I'd make it in wrestling and I'd pay them back for what they paid for me to go to wrestling school."

Drew looks at you and asks, "Can we go inside?"

You shake your head and say, "It was foreclosed. It belongs to the bank or something. It would be illegal to go in."

Your husband looks back at the house, which has fallen apart with age. It's a one story house. It has one bedroom, a tiny bathroom, and one room that holds the living room, dining room, and kitchen areas.

Drew says, "This while time ya were over here struggling, I was living it up as the prince of Scotland with my rich parents. I used to throw tantrums because they wouldn't get me the newest toy or take me on vacation with them, and your family couldn't afford either."

"We made it through," you say. "My parents live in a beautiful two story house in the nicer part of Manhattan. I paid them back right before I left for Scotland. Every story has a happy ending, Drew."

He smiles a bit and he asks, "Even ours?"

You smile and say, "Especially ours." You lean over the middle console and press a kiss to Drew's cheek. Your lips linger a little too long and he turns his head. You pull back a bit and meet his eyes.

That's when the butterflies flutter in your stomach and your heart races in your chest.

Slowly, both you and Drew lean into each other. Your eyes flicker to the lips you've only kissed twice, once at your wedding and once at a public event right after the wedding.

One of Drew's hands moves and rests on your cheek. You instinctively lean into his soft touch a bit.

Your lips are centimeters away from Drew's. Your noses touch as Drew's other hand moves to cup your other cheek.

"Tell me to stop if ya don't want this," Drew whispers.

You nod a bit and say, "I want this, Drew."

Then his lips brush against yours. A feather light touch. It makes you lean in more because you want more.

Drew guides your lips to his. Your eyes flutter closed as you kiss Drew. Your hands wrap around his wrists as he cups your face.

His facial hair tickles your chin and upper lip as the soft kiss continues.

It's like your first kiss all over again. Your first kiss was at your wedding in front of thousands of people. This one feels different. You never felt butterflies or your heart race when you kissed Drew at your wedding. You do now.

Drew pulls back and looks at you.

"How come ya never kissed me like that at our wedding?" he asks.

You say, "Because I didn't want it then. I wanted it now. I wanted the kiss."

He smiles and pecks your lips one more time before saying, "Show me yer favorite spot."

Giggling, you say, "I can't drive with you holding my face. Hold my hand if you wanna hold something."

Drew smiles and lets your face go. He takes your hand as you drive to your favorite spot.

Your favorite spot, or your safe spot, is a small park. You pull up, and get out.

The sun is setting, and you have a perfect view.

After taking Drew's hand, you walk over to a park bench. You sit down and Drew sits beside you. He wraps an arm around your shoulder as you both watch the sunset.

Drew says, "Ya don't have t'stay if ya don't want."

You look at him and ask, "What are you talking about?"

"In Scotland," he says. "Ya don't have t'stay. Being king isn't that important t'me if it means that ya don't get t'keep wrestling. I saw ya in the ring the other day, and it's all ya talk about. Ya love wrestling, and I don't wanna take that away from ya."

You turn so you're facing him as you say, "I'm happy in Scotland. Yeah, it was hard at first. I had to come to terms with possibly never wrestling again, and I did. Until you surprised me with this trip. I love that you did this for me, and for that, I'll help you become king and I'll be the best damn queen Scotland has ever seen." Drew smiles and you throw your legs over one of his legs.

You continue with, "Plus, I may or may not have fallen for you completely so I'm not going anywhere. Til death do us part, remember?"

There's almost a sparkle in Drew's eyes when you tell him that you might have fallen for him.

Your husband smiles and says, "I, uh, might've fallen for ya completely too."

You smile and lean into Drew. You kiss him slowly and softly. He kisses you back, pulling you closer to him.

The kiss is slow and full of passion. Your heart pounds in your chest as your lips move against Drew's.

Drew pulls back again and he says, "Let's find somewhere t'stay tonight. Do ya have a favorite hotel?"

You nod and say, "Yeah, it's in the city. Let's go."

The two of you get up and head to your favorite hotel.

***

The San Carlos Hotel. It's a cute little hotel, and not over the top fancy. You rent out a suite for the next few days, and they tell you that your stay is on the house because you're royalty. Sometimes being a royal has its perks.

The suite is a one bedroom suite. A full bathroom and walk in closet. Plus a living room area with a couch and a flat screen, and a kitchen.

Drew smiles when you unlock the door. You both walk in and you say, "Home sweet home while we tour New York."

He looks at you and say, "I'm glad ya didn't take the out when I offered it, Y/N. I didn't know ya were happy in Scotland. Honestly, I thought ya were miserable."

Giggling, you walk up to Drew and say, "Scotland is a beautiful country. I'm happy to be its princess, and eventually queen."

Your husband says, "Scotland's beauty is nothing compared to yers, Y/N."

Your cheeks heat up and say, "You are one unbelievably cheesy prince, you know that."

He laughs and says, "I take good pride in that. It's a talent."

Laughing, you begin to unpack. Drew disappears into the living room.

Once you've finished unpacking, you walk over to the window. You cross your arms over your chest and look out over the city that never sleeps.

Cars are still on the road and people are milling around on the sidewalks even though the sun has set.

You smile and keep looking out the window, until a pair of arms wraps around your shoulders. You don't have to look to know it's Drew. You lean back into him.

"I'll miss New York," you admit. "The city is always buzzing. It's the city that never sleeps, you know."

Drew presses a kiss to your temple and he says, "Just because we're gonna be king and queen doesn't mean we can't leave the country. We're not locked down in Scotland when we ascend the throne."

You sigh and say, "I know."

The two of you stand like that. You both look out over the city for several minutes.

Drew asks, "So, I did good?"

Nodding, you look up at Drew. "You did more than good," you say. "This has been the best trip of my life, and I'm glad you're here with me."

Your husband says, "I hope we can actually try at the relationship thing. I have a lot to learn still and-"

You lean up, pressing a soft kiss to Drew's lips to cut him off. He's caught off guard by the kiss but he kisses you back.

After a moment, you pull back and say, "We're gonna try at the relationship thing." You smile. "But I know that you know a decent amount about some parts of a relationship."

Drew says, "I know a lot less than ya think I know."

You turn in his arms and ask, "So if I asked you to, I don't know, take off my clothes, you wouldn't know how to do it?"

His face gets flustered as he stammers, "Well, I, uh, I know how to take off clothes, Y/N."

"I would hope so," you say, teasing him.

Drew smiles and says, "Listen, I don't know much about relationships but I know a lot about the physical parts."

You stare up at Drew and say, "Show me what you know."

"Y/N, we just talked about trying the relationship thing," he says, smiling. "I don't think we're ready for the next step."

A smile forms on your lips as you say, "We've already skipped a step or two. What's one more?"

Drew pushes some hair out of your face before he cups your face. He says, "I wanna do this the right way, Y/N."

You look up at Drew and you say, "There is no right way when we're in this situation."

He laughs softly and says, "Yer not wrong."

Leaning your head up, you say, "So show me what you got."

Drew smiles and leans down, bringing his lips to yours. The kiss is slow at first, full of passion. You wrap your arms around Drew's waist, holding him close to you.

His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, asking for access. You part your lips slightly. His tongue slips into your mouth. You let out a soft sigh into the kiss.

Your heart is racing in your chest at the thought of Drew taking off your clothes. You've seen him without a shirt on, but he's always seen you clothed.

While you're busy thinking, Drew's fingers have started working on the zipper of the jacket you're wearing. He pushes the jacket off of you and you pull away from the kiss.

Your eyes meet Drew's and he asks, "Ya really want this?"

Nodding, you say, "I want this." You untuck the shirt he's wearing from his pants.

Drew smiles and picks you up by your waist. You wrap your legs around his waist as he walks toward the bed. You giggle and wrap your arms around his neck. You take out the hair tie that's keeping his hair in a ponytail.

"I don't want your hair up when we're together," you admit. "I like it down."

Your husband lays you gently on your back on the bed. He looks down at you and says, "Anything for my princess."

You giggle, "So cheesy."

Drew leans down and kisses you. Your fingers slide up into his long locks. One of Drew's hands roams your body over your clothes while you start to unbutton the button up that he's wearing.

Several months ago, you and Drew wouldn't even touch each other. Not even hand-holding. Now, you're underneath him on a bed.

Things have definitely changed for the better over the last few weeks between you and Drew. It feels like euphoria when he kisses you or touches you. You can only imagine how it'll feel when his fingers find their way into your pants or under your shirt.

You're barely able to control yourself as Drew's lips move from yours to your neck. Your eyes flutter closed and you run your fingers through Drew's long locks. His button up now hangs open after you got it unbuttoned.

Drew kisses and nips at the skin on your neck as you push the open button-up off his body. You run your fingers gently up his now bare arms until your hands cup his face. You bring Drew's head up, bringing his face out of your neck. You're breathing a little heavy as you meet Drew's pretty blue eyes.

You lean your head up and press your lips to Drew's hard. One of Drew's hands runs down the side of your body, grazing the side of your breast. You almost shiver with anticipation as Drew's fingers reach the bottom of your t-shirt.

He pulls away from the kiss and looks down at you. You sit up a bit and lift your arms over your head. Drew pulls the t-shirt off of you and discards it somewhere in the room. You're left in just a plain, black bra and pants. You didn't think you'd be doing this or you would have worn a fancier undergarment.

"God," Drew says, eyes wondering over your half naked upper body. Your cheeks get hot as he looks at you underneath him.

He shifts his weight so he's kneeling between your legs. He pulls your hips toward him. You feel the bulge in Drew's pants against your clothed crotch and you gasp slightly. Your husband sits on his heels as he looks at you.

You stare at Drew, waiting anxiously for him to make a move. Your heart racing wildly in your chest.

Drew hooks his fingers into the waistband of your leggings, pulling them off your body slowly. They join your shirt on the hotel floor. He leans down and starts to lightly kiss your belly. You giggle and look down at him. His lips trail up your belly until he reaches the bra you're wearing. He undoes the front clasp and the bra falls open, exposing your breasts to Drew. Your breath hitches as he uses a finger and plays with one of your nipples. He kisses the other breast before sucking on that nipple.

You bite back a moan as you slightly arch your back off the mattress. The hand playing with your nipple moves down your body. Drew's fingers slip into the waistband of your panties and you sigh. You lick your bottom lip as his fingers inch closer to their target.

Your husband's eyes flicker up to your face and he watches for your reaction as two of his fingers run through your slick folds. Your eyes flutter closed and you smile, grasping onto the blankets on the bed.

His fingers tease your clit and you say in a whispered tone, "Don't tease." Drew teases your entrance and you let out a quiet moan.

"That was the prettiest things I've ever heard come from ya're mouth," Drew stares.

You get all flustered and say, "It's not nice to be a tease, Drew."

He presses a light kiss to your jaw and mumbles, "Tell me what ya want, princess."

Almost begging him, you say, "I want to feel your fingers inside me. Please."

Gently, Drew starts to pull off your panties. The fabric is thrown to the floor and you pull off the bra. You're completely naked in front of Drew, and you feel comfortable. You trust that Drew won't do anything to hurt you. He's the kind of man to make sure that you're okay with something before he does it.

Drew runs a finger through your soaked folds before he pushes that finger inside of you. You bite your lip to hold back your moans. Drew's hovering above your naked body. His lips are on your neck again, nipping at the skin and definitely leaving marks.

His finger moves in and out of you. You let your lip go and let out the moans you were holding in. Then Drew adds a second finger. You gasp and moan, "Drew."

"Making ya feel good with just my fingers?" Drew mumbles against your neck.

You nod frantically and say, "I love your finger."

He smirks and says, "I can promise ya that they love ya too."

The speed of his fingers quickens and your hips buck off the bed. You moan his name and a few profanities. A knot forms in your stomach.

You're intoxicated with how Drew is making you feel. You love the feeling of Drew's fingers inside of you. His touch makes you feel euphoric and waves of bliss overcome you with every flick of his wrist.

Your walls clench around Drew's fingers and you cry out, "Drew, I'm about to cum!"

The Scotsman's voice drops a tone and he asks, "Ya gonna cum from my fingers, princess? Do I make ya feel that good?"

Nodding, you desperately say, "I need to cum. Please."

"Go ahead, my love," he says.

Your legs begin to shake as you release all over Drew's fingers. More than you ever have for anyone before. Moans pass your lips as well as Drew's name mixed with profanities. Your breathing is labored as you come down from your high. Drew kisses you as you try to catch your breath.

Your lips move feverishly against his for a few moments before Drew gets back on his knees. You sit up with him between your legs and undo the button on his jeans. You look up at him as you push the dark blue fabric off his body. He's left in his boxer shorts as he sits back. You crawl onto his lap, straddling his huge bulge. You run your fingers down Drew's chest and he looks up at you.

"I have t'get something if we're gonna do this, princess," Drew says, pecking your lips. "Unless ya want to start producing heirs t'the throne right now."

You giggle and say, "Let's wait a year before we start doing that."

He smiles and snakes his way out from under you. You sit on the bed and watch as he grabs a little silver package out of the travel bag. He walks back over to you and you move to the edge of the bed.

You hook your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and pull them down. Drew watches you as his erect member pops out of the boxers. His big, and thick. You swallow a bit and look up at Drew.

He's smirking down at you before ripping the tiny package open and sliding the contents on himself. Drew pushes a piece of hair out of your face and says, "Be a good princess. Get on yer back and spread those beautiful legs for me."

You don't say anything, you just do as your told. You scooch yourself back on the bed and lay on your back. You spread your legs a bit as Drew crawls up to you, hovering over you between your legs. The tip of his member runs through your folds and you sigh.

"I've been missing out on a lot," you admit, looking up at Drew.

Your husband lightly kisses you as he says, "I have a lot t'offer."

Smiling against his lips, you say, "I can see that."

Drew props himself up on his arms, hands on either side of your head. You stare up at him before he asks, "Are ya sure ya want this?"

You nod and say, "I've never wanted anything more."

Then he pushes inside you. You gasp at the small amount of pain you feel before it goes away, turning to pleasure. He thrusts slowly into you, moving deeper every few movements. His length starts to fill you little by little. You're a moaning mess beneath Drew, nails raking up and down his back.

When he's fully inside you and you're adjusted, his hips speed up. He starts thrusting harder into you. Grunts leave his lips as moans leave yours. You wrap your legs around his waist so he has better access.

"Oh, fuck," you cry out. "Don't stop, Drew. Oh, faster. Please."

He listens to your wishes and he moves faster. He leans down and brushes his lips against yours. You lean your head up for the kiss and he pulls back slightly. You chase his lips and they barely touch his.

The tip of Drew's member finds your g-spot and you cry out. That's when he knows he's found the target, and he moves faster. His member slams into your g-spot over and over again. You scream out his name mixed with profanities several times as he fucks you into the mattress.

The same knot from earlier forms in your stomach as Drew builds you up to a second orgasm.

Drew's finally kissing you. Your lips move against his breathlessly and your nails dig into his sides. He twitches inside of you and you mumble, "I'm about to cum, baby."

"Me too," Drew says. "Together."

You nod. He moves a few more times before you both cum at the same time. You around him and him into the condom.

Drew kisses you messily as you both ride out your highs. Your hands are on his face as you messily make out with him.

He pulls out of you and pulls back from the kiss. You whine a bit as he ties off the condom, throwing it away. Drew helps you under the comforter before joining you. Drew spoons you from behind with one of his arms draped over you. You hold his hand as you press your back to his chest.

Both your breathing and Drew's breathing have returned to normal. He leaves soft kisses on your shoulder and a smile is on you lips.

"That was amazing," you say. "I really could've had that the entire time instead of fighting with you."

Drew lets out a breathy laugh and says, "I should've just talked to ya about everything sooner. We could'a done that a long time ago."

You giggle and say, "Now that we have done that, I don't know how long I can go before we do that again."

Your husband says, "Whenever ya want, princess. Hell, if ya wanted another go then I wouldn't say no."

Looking back at Drew, you say, "Calm down. You just made me cum twice within several minutes. I need some time."

Drew smiles and says, "Of course. Were ya seriously about that waiting a year before we start trying for a baby?"

"Of course I was," you say, turning and facing Drew. "I would love to have a baby with you, but I want to make sure that it's something we both want. I'm ten year younger than you, Drew. We have some time."

Your husband smiles wide and kisses you. "I am so in love with ya, princess," Drew coos against your lips.

"I'm so in love with you too, Drew," you respond.

Months ago, you hated the thought of marrying Drew just for him to become king. You never even wore your rings behind closed doors. Now, it's changed into something more. An actual relationship where you love Drew and he loves you.

That's all you hoped for when you said 'I do' to the prince of Scotland.

—

tags: @drewmcintyrekoccsrocbwdgfan

[qianinterprises]

Unsaid Silence

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: It's worth mentioning that I 1) write this a while back and posted it on a03, 2) wrote this in one night and finished at like 4am, and 3) got a lot of help from my ex-bestfriend.

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Johnny thought it would be fun. Walking around in the darkness with flashlights and friends.

Everyone else thought it was a half drunken joke to cackle about well into the week.

It was all fun and games until they realized... Johnny was serious.

It was not going to be fun.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: this is a horror, read at your own risk, WayV makes an appearance and kinda in a bad way so again, read at your own risk (I love WayV from the bottom of my heart so please don't be offended!)

It shouldn’t have come as a shock to anyone when Johnny announced his bright idea. Yet somehow, it shocked everyone. It was the type of thing that is announced over drinks at the bar, giggled about during late night movie nights, but no one ever stops to wonder if it’s serious, because it usually isn’t.

So when Johnny enlightened the 127 members of his “enthralling idea” to go crawling around the old Daegu Asylum while they were sitting around their bar table, half drunk, it had seemed like a great idea. Mark was particularly amused by the idea. As he sprawled himself across Haechan’s lap, giggling and hiccupping, it was all he could mutter about. How exhilarating it would be to investigate when they finished their schedules up early the next week.

And that was just the beginning. Throughout the rest of the week, everyone had brought it up at least once. Even Doyoung was excitedly chattering about it to his boyfriend over video call one evening. The male on the other end had warned him them that Johnny might not be joking. But it was all too much of a hilarious joke to be serious.

At least, that’s what everyone thought.

When Friday rolled around, they all piled into the vans, sweaty and tired from their latest dance practice, all eagerly awaiting for the rest of their evening and the next day off. The sun was still in the sky, although preparing itself to descend behind the horizon and wake up the rest of the world.

“Are you guys ready for tonight?” an excited Johnny asked the group he was with, practically bouncing in his seat beside Jaehyun.

He didn’t receive a verbal answer. A few grunts of confusion and lazy moans of others who just didn’t care. The only thought on anyone’s mind was shower, dinner or sitting around the television watching a movie.

He took no mind to it, grinning to himself in excitement. He’d spent his week packing a few backpacks for their excursion.

Upon arriving home, Taeyong noted how excited and bouncy Johnny appeared to be, even after a particularly grueling dance practice. He tried not to let it bother him though, or to pay too much attention to that nagging feeling in his gut. All he wanted to think about was getting his sticky body under the hot spray of the shower before crawling into bed with Jungwoo for a nice night of movies and cuddles.

Everyone went their separate ways, into one of the three bathrooms or to change into something more comfortable. Some even opted to flop down on the couches for a much needed break. Doyoung called in a pizza order for dinner before collapsing on the couch beside Yuta and plucking his buzzing phone from his pocket.

He squinted at a particularly coded text from Kun. The male was hardly ever straight forward when either of them ran the risk of one of the youngers seeing their messages, but this one, Doyoungcouldn’t even understand.

“Hyung, how well can you read Chinese?” he asked the elder.

Yuta glanced at him tiredly and then at the phone Doyoung was holding. With a sigh, he looked at the screen and scrunched his eyebrows in confusion.

“It says ‘The John Giant serious about dead people’” he read.

Doyoung stared at the black screen of the television in confusion. His boyfriend had never been this hard to read.

He spent the next two minutes pondering the words until Taeil came into view, dressed in cargo pants, a polo shirt, and an X-shaped vest strapped across his chest with small round pockets full of something.

Yuta took one look at him and burst out into giggles.

“What are you wearing?” he asked loudly, laughing and slapping his thighs.

Doyoung just stared at the elder as he pouted.

“Johnny made me wear this! He said something about “needing it tonight,” whatever that means,” Taeil said, walking over to sit beside Yuta.

Understanding slapped Doyoung in the face. He sprang up from the couch, startling the other two with the suddenness before running up the stairs. He slammed open Johnny’s door to see the elder strapping on a vest similar to Taeil’s. He could see what was in the pockets clearly now. Shotgun shells filled with a white substance. If he had to guess, Doyoung would say salt.

“Johnny hyung! What the hell? Please tell me you’re not dressing for what I think you’re dressing for!” Doyoung cried.

Johnny just grinned at him and handed him a backpack stuffed to the brink.

“Make sure everyone gets ready! We leave at dusk!” he beamed.

He didn’t lie. As soon as the sun disappeared and the sky was cast in dark blue’s as the moon and stars came into the light, Johnny was pushing everyone out the door into one of the larger vans that would fit everyone. By this point, everyone knew his intentions. All dressed in movable jeans or cargo pants, polo shirts, hiking boots (or durable sneakers), and either wearing a vest of salt bullets or carrying a heavy backpack.

“I can’t believe he was serious,” Haechan whined.

No one responded, but almost everyone felt the same. It was a tipsy suggestion at a bar one night after practice. Those weren’t supposed to come true and be serious. Yet, here they were. About to go into this Asylum that was supposed “haunted” because Johnny thought seeing ghosts would be fun.

This wasn’t anyone’s definition of fun. Except Johnny’s.

The van came to a stop and Yuta let out a groan.

“Oh lovely. We’re here,” he whined, opening the side door and crawling out sluggishly.

Johnny was still the first one out, and practically vibrating with excitement.

“Come on! Let’s go! Let’s see some ghosts!”

Jungwoo looked at the asylum skeptically. Fear traced in his eyes as he struggled to keep his hands steady at his sides.

“Are you sure we have to do this? We can rent a horror movie instead!” he whined.

Johnny rolled his eyes and grabbed the males hand.

“Come on! It’ll be fun!” he beckoned, tugging Jungwoo closer.

Jungwoo let out a screech and wrapped his lithe fingers around Taeyong’s hand, digging his nails into the leaders flesh in his escape to tear himself from Johnny.

“Come on, it’s not that bad. Ghosts aren’t real anyways, guys. I just wanted to look around. Please,” Johnny pouted.

“Why couldn’t we just explore it during the day? You know, when it’s not creepy!” Yuta fired.

Johnny released his grip on Jungwoo and turned his attention to Mark, who was already shrinking back and attempting to hide behind Jaehyun. Only to be shoved out by Haechan, who was already hiding behind the elder male.

“Come on Markie! You know you wanna come in with me!” Johnny cooed.

Mark grumbled, his resolve falling rapidly as he begrudgingly stepped closer to Johnny.

“You too Jaehyunnie! I bet if you use one of the video camera’s to record yourself, you’ll have that girl you’re trying to impress swooning!” Johnny said.

Jaehyun sighed and wrapped a hand around Haechan’s wrist, the youngest protesting loudly as he was dragged to the front as well.

Taeyong groaned and looked around at the remaining members.

“Let’s get this over with. The longer we stand out here waiting, the longer we have to be here. Johnny, you have one hour. I’m setting my timer. If you’re not done in one hour, we’re leaving you here and going home,” he said.

Everyone knew Taeyong was lying. They’d never leave Johnny behind. Taeyong himself would knock the giant out and make Jaehyun and Doyoung drag him out by his ankles if it came down to it.

He received lots of irritated moans and groans, but eventually, everyone was mentally preparing themselves to enter the asylum.

As they pushed open the creaky, moldy door, Taeyong, Jaehyun, Doyoung, Mark, and Yuta switched on the large torch flashlights they had all received in their backpacks, among other things. Broken glass crunched beneath their feet as they entered, and as Jaehyun (who was bringing up the rear) stepped in, the door slammed shut behind them. Jungwoo let out a fearful whimper and Taeyong wrapped an arm around his waist in an attempt at comforting the male.

They walked slowly, shining lights on everything they could, broken lamps, busted out chairs, ancient computers, a gargoyle head, a skull and bones, medical papers. Yuta shuttered against Taeil as the carefully walked past the bones.

“I didn’t think anyone died here,” Mark asked curiously.

“That’s the official statement,” Taeyong answered, hissing when a rat ran across his foot.

He nearly elbowed Doyoung in the nose as he lunged away from the rodent, earning a glare from the other.

“I was young at the time, but my brother told me about it. Apparently, there was this doctor that was experimenting on patients in his office. He was paid by the city to pick random patients and do lab experiments on them to try to “cure their psychosis,”” Doyoung said.

Haechan slammed into Doyoung’s back when the sound of glass shattering filled the air. The younger trembled, burying his face in the back of Doyoung’s shirt and the elder sighed, spinning around and wrapped his arms around the maknae.

“Sorry, I kicked over a mirror and it shattered,” Johnny apologized, bending down to investigate the mirror.

A few jagged shards of glass still clutched the panels of the mahogany brown frame, covered in thick dust. Johnny blew some of the dust away and found bloody fingerprints dotted all over the frame. Curiously, he flipped the mirror over and gaped.

‘Room 513’

The frenzied message appeared to have been written in blood with a shaky hand, the letter’s crooked and jagged.

“Let’s go!” Johnny declared, getting ready to lead the brigade.

“Are you crazy! No!” Haechan whispered back, his body still pressed as close to Doyoung as he could get.

“Uh… guys,” Jaehyun said, his voice wavering.

“It’ll be fun! We have to find out what’s in that room!” Johnny declared.

“Do you even hear yourself? No! We don’t go in strange rooms looking for trouble! Haven’t you watched any horror movies? That’s where the killer is always waiting to slaughter whoever is stupid enough to follow the instructions!” Yuta hissed

From somewhere nearby, a droplet of water could faintly be heard hitting the floor.

“Guys…” Jaehyun tried again.

“Don’t be stupid! Horror movies don’t exist! We’ll never know what’s back there if we don’t explore!” Johnny persisted.

“Johnny no! That is a dumb idea!” Jungwoo cried.

“GUYS!” This time, Jaehyun was yelling.

“What?!” Johnny yelled back, clearly irritated.

“The blood… on the mirror… it’s fresh…” Jaehyun spluttered.

Attention turned to the mirror in time to watch another droplet of blood patter down to the floor.

Haechan let out an ear piercing scream.

“Where’s Taeil hyung?!” he cried.

This sent everyone into a frenzy, particularly Yuta who was determined that Taeil was hiding rather than admitting the fact that he was gone.

“Stay calm! I’m sure there is a rational explanation,” Doyoung tried, but his voice was shaking so much, almost no one believed it.

Taeyong took a shaky breath and counted down the members. Taeil was indeed missing.

“We need to try to find him. We’ll split up into teams of four,” Taeyong said.

He slipped the backpack off his back and pulled out two walkie talkies with full batteries.

He took one for himself and handed one to Doyoung before splitting ways with his companions, Johnny, Junwoo, and Yuta.

Taeyong led the group down the hallway they had been following, carefully watching the floor and walls for any signs of Taeil. He didn’t know whether to be thankful or terrified that there were none.

Jungwoo was practically glued to his back, whining if he became too far out of the youngers grasp.

Yuta was already a mess. Trembling and whimpering with practically every step. Taeyong could almost hear his rapid heartbeat as his desperate eyes drove over the walls, looking for anything that would lead him to his boyfriend.

All of the excitement seemed to have evaporated off Johnny now, replaced with a look of pure terror and self-loathing that Taeyong almost wanted to wipe off his face. But the sick part was, he found Johnny’s mood justified.

“HELP ME!” Taeil’s voice screamed down the hall, rattling off the tattered walls.

“TAEIL!” Yuta screamed, tearing through the hallway, or trying to at least.

Taeyong’s fingers snagged around Yuta’s empty beltloops and held him in an iron grip he didn’t know he possessed.

Yuta squirmed in his grip, Taeyong’s fingers burning with the movements, not that Yuta cared at the present.

“Let me go!” he shrieked.

Taeyong was at a loss. Jungwoo was clinging to his left arm, refusing to let go. Yuta was struggling against Taeyong’s grip, practically ripping the joints from their sockets. Johnny stood stiff as a board, eyes staring off down the hall, glazed over.

“HELP ME!” Taeil’s voice shrieked again.

Yuta let out a loud wail as he struggled to free himself from Taeyong’s fingers, his feet scuffing at the dusty red rug thrown across the floor, kicking it up in large wrinkles until the movement eventually had him face planting into the worn rug, dust particles immediately sprouting into the air.

Jungwoo’s sensitive nose rattled off the walls as his body shook and convulsed by the force of his sneezes, snot blobs springing from his nose to plop gracelessly on Taeyong’s arm. In a crazed rush, Taeyong shoved Jungwoo’s still convulsing body into Johnny’s stiff one as he tore the fabric of his own sleeve to wipe away the disgusting residue of dust.

As Jungwoo’s body collided with Johnny’s the taller male was ripped from the grip of his stupor, arms wrapping protectively around the younger’s waist, steadying him before pulling the other’s shirt over his nose in an attempt at creating a filter between the dust and Jungwoo.

Another scream tore through the hallway, but this time, it wasn’t Taeil’s voice.

Doyoung led his group the opposite direction of Taeyong’s. There had been a narrow hallway that bridged off from what was presumably the main hallway. This hallway was much thinner. The walls were separated by a few yards. As Doyoung led the way, his flashlight barely provided much light in the pitch black. His shoulders brushed against both walls, making him shutter every time his clothed arm touched a paint-chipped dip.

Haechan huddled as close to Doyoung as he could get, practically tripping on the elder’s heels, his arms wrapped tightly around his hyungs middle, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. He shined the light against the walls, hoping the clarity would calm his racing mind and open his lungs that had seemed to collapse on themselves.

“It’s ok Hyuckie,” Mark called quietly, a large hand splaying across Haechan’s back, rubbing small circles with his fingers.

It helped that there were others there. The warm body pressed against his chest. The soothing hand against his back calmed him down only slightly. But when that hand suddenly vanished, Hyuck was left shuttering.

“Hyung?” his voice shook at the question.

The other grunted in response and Haechan felt his heart jump into his throat in relief. But the hand wasn’t replaced.

The group toddled along until Doyoung’s leading feet collided with sheetrock. Haechan collided against his back and another body collide against his.

“Oof, hyung, get off me!” he whined in protest at the weight pressing him against Doyoung.

There was a muffled apology and scuffling feet as the body lifted off Haechan’s back, allowing the youngest to back off Doyoung just enough for the male to get himself off the wall.

Jaehyun shined his flashlight against the white wall that was suddenly in front of them, coming out of nowhere. And if Doyoung hadn't turned his head to the right and faced a dooming blackness, he’d have assumed they were trapped at a dead end.

The sharpness of the curve wasn’t expected, and sent a chill down Doyoung’s spine as his flashlight skidded across the dusty red carpet, ensuring that they were indeed headed down another dark hallway rather than dropping into a random pit.

Haechan’s grip on Doyoung tightened as the male took a tentative step into the hallway, his blood running cold at the creak of a floorboard under the other’s weight.

“Be careful hyung,” Jaehyun’s whispered voice was right in his ear.

Haechan shivered away, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up at Jaehyun’s deep voice rattling around in his brain, confusion clouding his mind.

Doyoung hummed in response, focusing solely on stepping on the floor as if the floor could shatter in seconds. Haechan didn’t want to think about how possible that was.

The whole group jumped, Haechan clinging to both hyungs in fear as a familiarly, loud scream echoed off the walls.

“Mark?” there was Jaehyun’s voice again.

And suddenly, Haechan knew why he’d been confused.

“... Mark hyung is gone…” his voice was weak with trembles as tears welled up in the ducts of his eyes.

Taeil’s back hit the wall with a quiet thud, the icy hand on his forearm squeezing tightly as he watched in horror as red letters were spelled out on the mirror, the wound on his thigh still drizzling small spurts of blood, but not enough to be alarming. Not enough to really be… anything.

He was confused.

The freakishly cool body had brushed against his back and tugged him off into the darkness, a bony hand wrapped tightly around his mouth, forcing any cry for help back into his chapped lips. A raspy voice whispered something hoarsely against his ear, trembles tingling down his spine in fear before he passed out.

The wound on his thigh was there when he’d awoken. It looked horrible. Like a stabbed gash. But upon tearing away the fabric of his pants, he found a gash, not much deeper than a small cut, but it admittedly hurt like hell.

A dark figure came into view, soundless footsteps falling on the carpet as the figure approached and a screaming plea tore itself from his throat.

Yuta grumbled unhappily, his body squished and exposed in ways that would make Mark blush in shame. His stomach pressed in on itself at the odd angle, legs dangling uselessly below him.

His body jolted suddenly, pain searing through his ribs at the weight of his body slamming into the solid surface.

“Yah! I’m not a sack of rice!” he protested angrily, slapping at the rigid back.

“Well if you’d stop squirming, maybe it’d be easier to walk!” Johnny snapped back, a hand slapping against the others thigh.

Yuta let out a loud yell and glared at the floor.

“Stop it you two. The last thing we need is for someone else to disappear,” Taeyong hissed through a whisper.

Ever since they’d heard the second scream, they’d been trying to place who it was. All they knew for sure was, either someone else was in the asylum with them, or another member of their group had gone missing. None of them were ready to face any of those options.

Johnny’s foot collided with something hard and movable. It crunched beneath his feet, a sickening crack rattling in his stomach as his legs flew out from under him, the extra body on his shoulder tempting gravity far too much as his plush bum collided with the ground, the floor groaning in response.

A hiss poured from his lips, Yuta’s now writhing body rolling from his shoulder, curling into a ball to clutch at his center. Johnny could faintly see the glisten of tears in his eyes from the glow of Taeyong’s flashlight as Jungwoo knelt down to nurse the male.

Johnny felt bad. Well, he almost felt bad. It was at the brink of building until his eyes fell on the tarnished white walls, his pupils freezing over the words clawed out in crooked, jagged piques, mixing with the paint and sheetrock. His blood chilled and he swore his heart stopped for a moment before clanging loudly in his ears.

“J-Jungwoo… how are you feeling?” he asked shakily, his eyes never leaving the markings on the wall.

“I’m fine hyung, why?” the male asked.

Johnny could feel Taeyong’s gaze burning a hole in the back of his head.

“Jungwoo, don’t leave Yuta’s side, OK?” he urged.

“What the hell is going on?” Taeyong asked, more than a little irritated and frightened.

Johnny had no words for the sight his eyes refused to leave. All his words had seemed to dry up completely now. He simply pointed.

Taeyong put a hand on Johnny’s shoulder to brace himself as he knelt down. A gasp rushing from his lips as his eyes landed on it.

Jungwoo

The lone name was scrawled into the wall like a desperate plea of a sharp nailed child in one last attempt at calling out.

“Shit.”

The word seemed to fall out of nowhere.

A shiver ran through Johnny’s back. That wasn’t any of their voices.

“Let’s keep mo- Jungwoo!”

The boy whose name appeared on the wall was suddenly pressing himself against the wall for support. Choked coughs tearing painfully from his throat and a smell wafting through to Taeyong’s nose. But it was too late.

With drooping eyes, Taeyong’s knees began to crumble, unable to support his weight any longer, rather, falling on top of Johnny, both body’s colliding lifelessly to the dusty floor.

Coughs continued to tear from Jungwoo’s throat as he struggled to keep his eyes open, clutching at Yuta’s limp arm before his whole world faded to black, his body slamming against the red carpet, eyes long rolled into the back of his head.

Doyoung’s breathing came out slow and erratic. Particles of what was hopefully dust swarming the air around him as the narrow walls pressed closer, making it unable to walk straight any longer.

Haechan whimpered beside him. His shoulders pressed between Jaehyun and Doyoungs as they shimmied their way down the hallway. Doyoung’s back was pressed flush against one wall, the opposite wall a foot away from his head now.

“Breath Haechan,” Jaehyun instructed.

Doyoung turned to look at the youngest, his heart clenching at the sight.

Haechan was a mess. His breathing uneven and choppy. His eyes shifting around and his body trembling. Doyoung could imagine his heart was likely also beating painfully against his ribs.

It was a well known fact that Haechan was painfully claustrophobic. He also had a fear of horror movies. And this damn well felt like they were sucked into the middle of one.

Haechan clenched his fingers around Jaehyun’s hand, trying desperately to calm himself down, but that task didn’t get any easier as he suddenly heard creaks in the floor, getting closer and louder.

“Hyung!” Haechan cried, burying his face in Doyoung’s shoulder until the creaking stopped.

“Shh, it’s ok Haechan,” Doyoung whispered softly.

He shined the light of the flashlight down the hallway as let out a deep rush of air as the light hit a wall expanding the narrow hallway.

“Come on, the wall expands back here,” he whispered, itching himself down the wall.

When they finally broke from the narrow hallway, they all felt the air become more open and easier to breath. The air that had stuffed itself in the swell of Haechan’s chest rushed out greedily as he took a few cleansing breaths.

It was pitch black. Even with the flashlights, none of them could see much in front of them. The glow of the lights licked at the inky shadows, but to no avail, simply revealing minuscule secrets of whatever room they were in.

Feeling more confident, Haechan used his own torch light to look around, never leaving his spot between Doyoung and Jaehyun, hand still grasped in Jaehyun’s.

As his light glowed, they fell on a pair of black shoes that he immediately recognized.

“It’s Mark!” he cried, shining the flashlight up the thin legs.

Something felt off as the light trailed up the body. The stature seemed too small and frail to be Mark’s, but Haechan wasn’t going to chase away his own relief.

The light glided over a tiny torso and up fragile arms. That didn’t seem like Mark either, except for the way the arms were crossed over one another almost awkwardly.

Haechan had Jaehyun and Doyoung’s attention. Six eyes trailing up the figure of Mark, checking him for injuries and finding none.

Up a taunt chest and sunken in collar bones.

He looked fine. No injuries. Maybe he’d found a trap door that led him to the room where he’d been waiting for them.

Up narrow face.

A scream ripped from Haechan’s throat. Doyoung let out his own shriek and Jaehyun’s high pitched wails blended horribly with the others.

Piercing red stared directly at them, unblinking, from their friend that shouldn’t be here.

Ten’s red eyes and sunken in state had Doyoung and Jaehyun sprinting from the room, clabbering over themselves, uncaring what the sickening crunching under their feet was or the scraping of metal. They didn’t even pay any attention to the groaning close.

Doyoung’s hand hit a slightly ajar door and he burst through it, Jaehyun following him as they were once again swallowed up by darkness.

“Oh my God,” Doyoung whispered hoarsely.

Jaehyun grunted in response, resting his hands on his knees in an attempt at catching his breath.

A terrified scream startled them both before all was eerily silent. And it was at that moment, that they realized their fatal mistake.

Haechan’s mortified scream still hanging in their ears as Doyoung’s chest tightened.

He’d left the maknae.

Mark opened his eyes into a gray blackness that had his head fuzzy and flittering. Where was he? Was this heaven? He felt so soft. Pillows under his head, blankets delicately draped over him.

A scream broke through the silence of the room and he sat up, eyes snapping back open. He didn’t realize he’d shut them. The bed disappeared, replaced with wet concrete and the smell of sewage. An anger yell snagged his attention once again and the soggy concrete was replaced with pure, fuzzy darkness once again as a familiarly deep voice tendered his ears and calmed his mind.

Johnny’s eyes flew open, staring up at a high ceiling covered in cobwebs that shined in the light of the flashlight. He took the flashlight and sighed as he sat up, his joints stiff from his time on the floor.

How long had he been out?

“Guys?” he asked, shining the light around to where Taeyong, Yuta, and Jungwoo once were.

He gaped as they were nowhere to be seen.

His heart stilled. Eyes frozen over in terror as a realization flashed through his mind.

“I got them killed…”

There was no point in running anymore. His eyes were drawn to the red carpet once again. But now, there was a trail of blood right where Yuta had been laying, heavily pouring further down the hallway like a river.

“No…”

He fell back against the floor. The carpet scratching uncomfortably against his skin, but he couldn’t bring himself to care anymore. He only had one person left to live for. And he didn’t deserve him.

Johnny was a murdered. His stupid idea had gotten his friends killed and now, he was left with one person to answer to. A person he’d never be able to look in the eye again. A person wearing all black. A person with dark red eyes. A person carrying Haechan’s lifeless body.

Wait what?!

“Do you see what you’ve done?” Ten hissed, standing over Johnny menacingly.

Johnny gulped. Why was Ten here? What happened to him?

“Congratulations,” the sneer was nasty.

It had Johnny nearly crippled with the gripping ice of the voice.

Tiny arms dropped Haechan’s body to the floor, watching it land with a hard slap against the carpet, his head merely moving with the force of the fall.

Johnny almost couldn’t bring himself to look at the maknae, tears welling in his eyes.

His eyes were open, dinged over in deep gray, gone, cold, dead. His clothes were covered in blood stemming from the long gash around his throat.

Tears fell from Johnny’s eyes.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Ten’s voice hissed.

Johnny gulped as he clutched Haechan’s cold hand.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“You should be.”

The voice wasn’t Ten’s.

Johnny’s eyes widened again in horror as Haechan’s eyes shifted to glare at him, eyes turning as red as Ten’s.

“You killed us,” Ten growled above them.

Haechan stood up as if he wasn’t dead moments ago, effortlessly.

“And now you share our fate.”

Ten lifted his shirt and Johnny’s mind raced as his eyes caught side of the knife buried in Ten’s side. He watched the knife glide from the torn and bloodied skin and he wondered if this was how Ten had died. Slow and painful. But he didn’t have time to ponder this as the knife was plunged deep into Johnny’s chest before both bodies disappeared into dust.

Jaehyun’s knees hit the floor as he stared at the door they had just raced from. There was no sound. No creaking floors. No screaming. No whispering. No groaning. It was silent. Dead.

The thought had Jaehyun shaking as he reached out to grip Doyoung’s shirt, but his palm connected with something warm and wet instead.

“You killed him.” a voice echoed in his ears.

It was strangely familiar, but he couldn’t place it.

“You ran and left him there to die.”

Where the hell was that voice coming from.

“He sought you out for protection and you repay him with betrayal.”

Something cold pressed against his head and he froze. He knew that voice.

“I-I’m sorry!” he stammered.

“I don’t think you mean that,” the voice echoed again, the blade of the knife digging into the skin of his temple.

“Please! No! I thought he was with us!” he cried.

He felt something trickle down the side of his face, something warm and wet.

“Pathetic.”

The knife disappeared from his head as a boot clad foot pressed itself against his back and shoved him forward in the darkness. His hand collided with something warm before light flooded his vision, temporarily blinding him before YangYang’s form came into view, red eyes just as piercing as Ten’s.

He didn’t know what happened. Watching Doyoung flail around in terror struck a cord deep within his heart and he couldn’t stop his actions. Xiaojun’s red eyes staring directly into Doyoung’s, knife pressed against the vocalists throat, and he couldn’t take it.

With the press of a button, the pitch black room brightened into a blinding white light that took his eyes a while to adjust too.

“Well that was anticlimactic,” one of them whined, but he couldn’t be bothered to care who.

“Did you really have to cut me?” another voice whined.

“Taeil?” Doyoung’s voice quivered.

Doyoung jumped as hands pressed themselves into the softness of his back as he turned, alarmed to stare at whoever was touching him, only to be met with kind, honey brown eyes that he loved so much. His eyes welled with tears as he lunged for the male, wrapping his arms around him tightly as the door opened again.

“He fainted,” Haechan cackled, half carrying, half dragging a limp Johnny through the corridor and into the room with the cells.

Ten walked close behind, helping carry his boyfriend, guilt nagging at his gut at the terrified expression still on the taller’s face.

“Is he ok?”

Jaehyun looked around frantically, confused as to why suddenly, everyone was in the same space, safe, in the light.

His eyes first landed on Taeil, who’s body was pressed closely on a soft-looking bed with an unconscious Yuta, a tight bandage wrapped around the Japanese males ankle. Taeil brushed his fingers through the males hair, smiling fondly down at him as he stroked over his face with the pads of his fingers.

His eyes drifted over to Mark, who was leaning against a worried and guilty looking Lucas. Mark’s facial expression was somewhere between confused, sick, and delirious as the soft pink blanket draped delicately over his frame.

He caught sight of Haechan, who had flopped on a bed beside YangYang, an angry red welt around his neck surrounded by blood, but upon further inspection, turned out to look more like crushed up cherries.

This was confusing. A mess. Why was everyone’s boyfriends suddenly here? What the hell was all of this.

Johnny’s eyes cracked open after a long half hour and he glanced around the room, eyes smiling happily at the reunited couples.

“Did we win?” he asked.

Ten opened his mouth to respond, a small smile on his lips as he carded his fingers through Johnny’s hair. His response was cut off as the door opened and a middle aged man with gray hair walked in.

“Congratulation NCT and WayV. For participating in this years “horror film” with such a realistic experience, you are all hereby granted a two week vacation from any and all responsibilities along with a full trip blank plane ticket for each of you.”

The males voice was dull and anticlimactic, but as Johnny and Ten looked around the room at the shocked faces of the 127 members, all the guilt he felt putting them through such a horrifying adventure was worth it.

[peach-jaehyunie]

You Were Beautiful Part IV

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Swearing, Smut (oral, pegging, bondage, vanilla as f*ck, etc.), {not really warnings} fluff, angst

Word Count: 11.3 k

Previous

Lyrics by Cigarettes After Sex, song: Sesame Syrup

A/N: There will be an epilogue, simply because this was getting too long

“You’ve had a long list of lovers, but none of them mattered to you except me. I’ve had a long list of lovers, but none of them mattered to me except you.”

“Have you told Jaehyun you love him?” Misook asks you point blank one day. The two of you have been hanging out together, mostly for a quick coffee or lunch.

“What!” You sputter, choking on your hot tea.

“I noticed, but I don’t think anyone else has really noticed so you’re safe.” She assures upon you upon noticing the look of terror that crosses your face. Over the past few weeks, the thought of telling Jaehyun you loved him became less terrifying. You ran the words over in your mind and they made you smile. You thought them when you and Jaehyun were debating the possibility and probability of the existence of aliens. And you thought of them when you went to sleep at night, and let the warm, comforting feeling wash over you. You accepted it as fact now, but it was still your secret—well, and now Misook’s.

“Would it be awkward if you were at my dress fitting?” Misook asked.

“Yes,” you laugh shaking your head at this ridiculous situation.

Jaehyun is a frowner. And a spontaneous smiler. It’s been almost three months, and the Jaehyun you casually knew was more of an idealist and less curious than the man you were in love with now.

“Do you see it as half-empty or half-full?” He asks placing a glass of water on the table in front of you.

“Do you ever think you’re boring?” You ask looking up from your book, not sparing a glance at the glass of water.

“No, I like all the stuff I enjoy doing—I asked first!” Jaehyun laughed and pointed at the glass as he sat down opposite you. You put your chin on the table, and Jaehyun did the same so you could look at each other through the glass.

“It depends on how thirsty I am.” You finally shrug at him with a grin, and he reaches under the table and pinches your bare leg. You squeal and then scream as he jumps to his feet, causing you to scramble from your chair and run across the apartment trying to escape his reach. Jaehyun soon traps you in his arms as you have no place run where you won’t be cornered. He throws you over his shoulder, and you squirm in his grip between giddy laughter and light pants of breath. He drops you onto the couch before climbing on top of you and pinning you down.

“Do you ever think you’re boring?” Jaehyun asks you, his face is inches from yours and his hair brushes your forehead.

“Often,” your heart is still beating fast from the adrenaline rush you had just gotten. You reach up with your hand to touch him and his grip on your wrist slackens and then finally lets go so that you can brush his hair back from his face. He smiles and his cheeks dimple as he leans into your touch and his eyes gently close. He brings your other wrist up to his face and places kisses all over your hand and on the soft skin on the inside of your wrist. You continue to stroke his hair as Jaehyun kisses below your ear and down your neck, before resting his head on your chest with a sigh of contentment. He lets go of your other wrist so that you can hold him against you, and his hand travels easily up the shirt of his that you are wearing to slide his fingers under the waistband of your underwear, to rest his hand on your hip, before falling asleep there.

“Jaehyun,” you softly say to wake him, and your hands stroke his shoulders and back. He stirs and gently awakes before quickly looking up at you, and in those moments of looking into your eyes after sleep breaks his heart a little; because it feels to him as if you’re already looking at him to say goodbye.

————————————————————————-

“I’m so tired, I really have to get going.” You grimace in apology to Johnny. It’s a lie. You’re going over to Jaehyun’s so the two of you can put on facemasks together.

“We barely ever see you anymore,” Johnny says following you to the door of his apartment, he pouts at you and brushes his hand against your arm.

“Johnny, we work together; we see each other every day!” You laugh and brush your hand against his arm in return. “I promise I’ll see you on Friday night, Saturday night, and Sunday morning.”

Jaehyun excuses his way out of Johnny’s apartment soon after you and arrives home to you already with his new playlist started, getting into your pajamas.

“Hurry up and get into your pjs, Mister.” You say as you slap Jaehyun’s ass and skip out of his bedroom. You have a selection of sheet masks spread for the both of you to choose. After you both pick a mask he nudges you and you look up at him and it’s always the same feeling: the quickening heartbeat and the overwhelming feeling of love for him.

“We both chose firming masks,” Jaehyun whispers with a laugh “we must be getting old.” Yes, but not together you think sadly.

When you are standing together in front of the mirror in his bathroom putting on the masks your eyes meet. You both look rather comical trying to smooth down all the corners and tuck it in around the nose. You don’t know why, but you laugh, completely ruining the positioning of your mask. It’s contagious, and Jaehyun is soon laughing but he runs out of the bathroom complaining about the mask getting crinkled. You take some deep breaths to calm down your laughter, but as soon as Jaehyun enters the bathroom straightening his mask you burst into hysterical laughter again.

“Oh my fucking god,” He mutters running out again trying to control the contagious laughter. “Stop fucking laughing!” Jaehyun falls to his knees laughing as he says this from the hallway. You’re laughing so hard that can’t breathe, and you’re clutching your stomach as you sit down on the floor.

“Are you okay?” Jaehyun has crawled to the bathroom door and he hides his face from you as his body shakes with laughter.

“No,” you cry, there are actual tears now and you try to breathe in to stop laughing. You fix your mask with a deep breath, willing yourself to keep a straight face when you finally look at Jaehyun. Your mouth tries to curl up at the corners “I’m fine, it’s okay.” You reassure him, but you quickly avert your eyes just to be safe.

Soon you are sitting cross-legged across from one another holding each other’s hands.

“Tell me about this one time when you were pegged.” You tell him, and Jaehyun lazily strokes the back of your hand with his thumb.

“Well, I lied...it was more than once. I actually really liked it.”

“Do you want me to do that?” You ask, forced to conceal the smile that pulls at your mouth.

“Yes, I would love that.” He says with a squeeze of your hands.

“How old were you when you first had sex?” Jaehyun quizzes next.

“Eighteen,”

“Was he any good?”

“She was nice, and we enjoyed it, but that was nothing compared to you.” His ears blushed pink at your confession.

“What did you want to be when you grew up?” You ask.

“Hm, I remember wanting to be a singer, but I also thought being a detective would be cool. I never seriously looked into anything else because I knew that someday I would take over my family’s company.” He shrugged. You leaned over to place a kiss on his hand.

“Do you want children someday?” He asks.

“Yes,” he always asks the questions that hurt.

“How many do you want?”

“Two or three,” you tell him as a lump begins to form in your throat. Jaehyun squeezes your hands as you avert your eyes, afraid of what you might give away.

“I love you.” He says softly, almost as a reminder. As if you need to be reminded of that; it was all you could think about, it consumed you and sometimes came crashing down on you drowning out the rest of the world.

“What does it feel like saying that?” Your voice betrays you slightly by cracking.

“It’s painful, but it’s also like being able to breathe again.” Jaehyun’s words are heavy, but you think that breathing again might be nice.

“How long have you loved me?” And you scan his face, which remains expressionless because of the mask, waiting for his answer.

“Eleven months,” you are both quiet after he says this.

“Do you enjoy taking risks?” He finally asks after a minute.

“Sometimes...if I hadn’t we wouldn’t be here right now.” Your heart had never beat so fast, but you were more in love with Jaehyun than you had been with anyone else in your whole life.

“I’m glad you took that risk.” He says with the smallest smile and his gaze drops to his and your clasped hands.

“Jaehyun,” you licked your lips, and he looked at your face again “You took a bigger risk because you were in love and I wasn’t.” Wasn’t, wasn’t, wasn’t; not ’am not’...because you were now and what if you missed the chance to ever say it. There was nothing you wanted to say to him more, you wanted to tell him every day, and you wanted him to know every minute of every day that you loved him back. Jaehyun noticed your wording, and his breathing became noticeable and he squeezed your hands so tightly they hurt. Say it, say it, say you love him, you coward. The seconds seemed like minutes, and the timer on Jaehyun’s phone went off causing you to jump. He lets go of your hand to silence his phone and quickly pull off his sheet mask.

“Are you now?” He asks grabbing your hand again as his eyes search yours for some sort of answer.

“Yes,” you breathe, and Jaehyun seems to grow smaller “I love you.” You finally croak, and then you feel the weightlessness as you see Jaehyun’s expression soften. It’s as if you can suddenly breathe, you have finally allowed yourself to live your truth. You pull off your mask “I love you, I love you,” Your voice is stronger every time and you have moved closer to Jaehyun and your eyes’ never leave each other. “Jaehyun, I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” And he’s cupping your face, which is damp and sticky with mask essence. Then it’s his lips and your lips, you feel that your chest might explode because of how right this feels. The touches are soft and exploratory in a new way, and slow because this is not a desperate act between two people. It feels like this was meant to happen; everything in life has been leading to this moment. His weight pressing you down onto the floor is perfect, every sharp intake of air is perfect: maybe you were wrong, maybe perfection does exist—this was your perfection. Anyone else’s perfect was different, but you had found yours. The secret was out, and it had never felt closer, never felt deeper, and you had never felt more alive while drowning in love.

What you feel in the morning must be happiness, but not the joyful kind. This was mature, fulfilling happiness; not the kind you ever thought existed until one day you just suddenly knew it did. ‘I love yous’ were muttered against each other’s lips, and whispered in ears, and breathed against skin. Every mark sucked onto your body feels different, and the sharp bites on Jaehyun’s neck and hips are out of love. The best part now is that he knows. He knows as he fucks you against the shower wall, or when he bends you over the kitchen counter and covers your mouth with his hand to muffle your moans. He knows when he goes out for late night drives, and you’re falling asleep in the passenger seat as his playlist of mellow love songs envelopes you. He knows you really mean it when you say “Let’s make love on the couch.”, and he knows this is going to hurt like hell in the end.

Jaehyun savours your taste, and the way you grip his hair as he eats you out. Little whimpers fall freely from your lips as his tongue strokes from your slit to your clit. You’re propped up on pillows so that you can watch him, and he makes eye contact with you while he gently sucks your clit. You don’t dare break the eye contact as he continues to suck, lick, and flick the sensitive little hood, and you spread your legs wider as he slips a single slender digit into your wet sex.

“Jaehyun,” you gasp his name, and the sound falls from your lips like it’s the most beautiful word. “ah...yes, yes—no please don’t stop, don’t ever stop” you breathe as he teases you by removing his mouth. You can feel the cocky smile that he tries to hide from your gaze as he places wet kisses along your inner thighs and adds a second finger inside of you. Your cunt squelches from the movement of his fingers which disgusts and, simultaneously, turns you on.

“You sound so good, baby,” Jaehyun growls before swirling his tongue around your clit. Your hips buck up against his mouth and hand, as your head rolls back and a loud whimper slips past your lips.

“Shhhh” Jaehyun breathes against your core “Remember baby, it’s too early for that.” The kisses he places on your hip and lower belly are tender, but he harshly pinches your nipple with his free hand. You gasp and quickly cover your mouth. His fingers fuck you slowly and his mouth is everywhere but where you most want it. You only allow the softest and breathiest moans to slip from your mouth as Jaehyun’s fingers repeatedly graze the sensitive spot inside you.

“That’s better, darling, you were going to wake people up. You’re such a noisy little girl.” He calmly tells you above your light noises, and his mouth quickly returns to pleasuring your little nub. He expertly coordinates the movement of his fingers and his tongue as you lift your hips up off the mattress. His free hand pins your hips to the mattress, and his fingers fuck you faster as you begin to feel an overwhelming sense of warmth in your lower belly and core. Jaehyun’s tongue flicks your clit soft and fast, sometimes alternating between light licks and swirls, but he knows it’s the licks that you like most. The build up to your climax is hot and glorious, and you hold it off for as long as possible—until his fast tongue motions send you over the edge as you squeeze his head between your thighs, and screw your eyes closed tightly as your toes curl in pleasure. Gasps and high moans slip gently passed your lips, and your hand is ready to cover your mouth in case you become too loud. As your orgasm subsides, Jaehyun’s fingers gradually slow to a stop and the licks he places on your core are long and gentle, as he’s careful of your sensitivity right now. He tenderly kisses up your body and lays beside you. Jaehyun encourages you when you roll over to half lay across him by embracing you and pressing kisses to your face and neck. You gladly kiss Jaehyun back and open your mouth to him to make the kiss deeper. This should never end, but both of you are very aware of the calendar on the desk and the letter of acceptance for a PhD program addressed to you that lies next to it. Neither of you is willing to admit that this scares you; the love, the dependency, and the parting. Jaehyun hasn’t asked you when you’re leaving, but you know that he knows the day and he’s just as afraid to talk about it as you are.

_________________________________

The secret keeping from everyone gets messy as you and Jaehyun spend more time with each other. The lies become worse and worse: Jaehyun tells Mark that he spent the night at his parents one morning as Mark stands outside of the door to Jaehyun’s apartment, and Jaehyun quickly leaves your bed to meet his friend; your parents catch him in a background during a Skype session, and you introduce him as your neighbour that needed to use your kitchen; Yuta questions it when the lady who lives across the hall from Jaehyun knows your name—and you can’t think up an excuse.

“Mrs. Kang is dropping off a parcel that got delivered to her instead of me, so can you get it from her when she stops by?” You ask Jaehyun one morning as you get ready for work, slipping out of one of his button-down shirts and into the shower.

“Of course,” and he pulls your naked body up against his before you can step into the stream of water, to place a kiss against your lips with a smile. Jaehyun goes back to cutting up fruit for your lunch, which he occasionally enjoys making and packing for you. There is a knock on the door, and Jaehyun quickly rinses his hands and goes to answer it. Two boxes he helped you pack last night sit peacefully next to the door, ready to be sent back to your home and he feels a little piece of his heart break off when he sees them. Was this what you had felt the other day when you saw his wedding tuxedo in his apartment? Jaehyun remembered you averting your eyes when you realized what it was. He is somewhat distracted by the boxes as he opens the door, but standing there is not Kind-but-No-Nonsense Mrs. Kang; it’s Johnny Seo. They are both obviously taken back, neither finding who they expected on the other side of the door.

“Hyung,” Jaehyun starts when he sees Johnny eye him up and down, but his voice fades when he remembers that he is still in his pajamas and there is no way to possibly talk his way out of this. Johnny pushes past Jaehyun into the apartment and stands listening to the shower run, with the younger man standing next to him looking down at his feet.

“You’re so stupid,” Johnny says sadly, shaking his head. “I mean, why now? Why not a year ago? Why not never! Are you just trying to hurt yourself?”

“I love her,” Jaehyun says quietly and he raises his head to look at his friend.

“I know,” and Johnny turns to him, “I know you do.” Johnny notices the boxes now, and their address.

“Look, I’m not going to tell you what you can or can’t do with your life—break your own heart, whatever—but don’t break hers.”

It’s too late for that Jaehyun thinks. Johnny goes to leave, though he has never made it clear why he came in the first place.

“Oh,” Johnny begins, and then he swallows as if he has a lump in his throat, “Tell Y/N that Kun’s going away party is tonight right after work, so if she wants to wear something special she should bring it with her to work.”

“Why couldn’t you text her that?” Asks Jaehyun, though he nods his head to indicate that he will tell you.

“She’s leaving in three weeks, I want to say as much as I can to her face.” Johnny turns slowly and walks out the door, but just as Jaehyun is closing it his hand reaches out to stop it.

“One last thing,” says Johnny, and Jaehyun has an urge to force the door close to shut the two of you off from the rest of the world. “Did you sleep with her before or after the engagement announcement came out?” He knew, and there was no point in lying to him.

“Before,” Jaehyun says grimly, and he frowns as he puts pressure on the door, but Johnny does not recede.

“That was a fucking jackass move, you had months to tell her. You’ll never get to see Y/N’s face that night, and I’ll never forget it.”

————————————————————————————

“Let’s go away next week,” Jaehyun suggests one evening during dinner. “You’ll be done work, and then it can be just the two of us with no obligations to anything. Let’s be nothing but in love for a week.” His words make a piece of your heart fracture, this was going to be over too soon. The days were rushing passed, and you wanted nothing more than to slow the universe down so that you could at least savour every short second you had left with him.

“Okay, that sounds nice.” You smile at him, but sometimes something as simple as looking at him makes you nearly choke with tears now. You swallow them, it’s too soon for that and you don’t want to ruin what time there is. “Considering the time differences in the places we were born, we were born just two months and one hour apart.” You tell him, and you smile but your lips quiver. Maybe it was flower arrangement samples on the table that Jaehyun was supposed to choose from or the property listings that sat untouched on his desk, where he was supposed to look for the perfect house to live in with Misook. Yes, you needed to be far away from the apartments that reminded you of nothing else but the impending separation.

Johnny never says anything to you, but Jaehyun told you that he knows. You silently thank him every day; for treating you the same, for respecting it; even if he saw better than you and Jaehyun that you were just breaking your hearts for each other. Being with Jaehyun is bliss, though. The little arguments about the same things that aren’t that important are perfect; waking up together with messy hair is perfect; adjusting to each other’s idiosyncrasies is perfect. You want no one else, you want nothing else. Jaehyun never asks for you to give up a career you spent years studying for. He never asks for you to stay here and continue teaching while being his mistress, and you are grateful for that. He encourages your ambitions and he asks about your family and home life. You tell him where your favourite places to play as a child were and your favourite games, and you tell him that you want to raise your own children in the house you grew up in.

“It’s perfect for hide and seek because there are all these small hidden closets.” And Jaehyun lightly strokes your face as you say this because you light up while talking about it.

———————————————————————————-

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” You ask leaning against Jaehyun’s car while he insists on loading your bags so they’re packed correctly.

“No—what the hell is in this, it’s so heavy! It’s summer, we’ll be near the beach, why are you bringing so much?” He huffs as he packs one larger suitcase next to his and then places a smaller bag of yours on top.

“Open it,” you say with a sly grin, gesturing to the top bag. He returns the sly expression before carefully unzipping the bag.

“My favourites,” Jaehyun says dramatically as he lifts a pair of green leather handcuffs out of the bag and clutches them to his chest. He rifles through the rest of the bag, nodding his head approvingly until something catches his eye and he stops with a sharp intake of breath.

“Is that...?”

“A strap-on? Yes,” You say in a voice smooth as honey, but you watch him intently to read his reaction. He smiles at the bag, and then at you, he smirks before zipping the bag up.

“We should’ve bought that sooner.” He leans over and whispers in your ear.

“Well, I would have if someone wasn’t so shy about what they like. Oh, I have a very fun game that I’d like to play this week, so I hope you made what I asked you to.” You say as he closes the car door and you each walk around to either side to get in.

“I did, but I really wish you would tell me what it was for.” He whined as he sat in the driver’s seat.

“You’re such a skeptic,” you laugh at him and pinch his cheek, “Don’t worry, you’ll love it.” Jaehyun grins at you before grabbing your hand and kissing the back of it.

“Ready?” He asks.

“Yes,” that was a lie, you weren’t; the sooner you spent this week together, the sooner you wouldn’t see each other again.

You were not the only people with the idea to get out of the city during the sweltering heat. Jaehyun’s hand rested high up your thigh as you sat in traffic, and you were so attracted to him that his hand there made you extremely aroused. You had felt tingly for nearly an hour and were no doubt quite wet. With each passing minute, it felt as if his hand was just slowly creeping up your bare thigh towards your core. You were completely surrounded by other cars and other people when Jaehyun’s hand was finally brushing against your panties, your dress had ridden up so far with his touches that your underwear was nearly visible. You pretend that you don’t notice his hand and he doesn’t move it at all as it rests there. You spare a quick glance, pretending to look at something in his direction; he’s smirking, you know exactly what he’s doing. You try your best to hide the smile that pulls at your lips, and you slide down further in your seat so his hand presses a little more firmly against your centre.

“How are you doing?” He asks as you sigh and close your eyes, pretending like you’re going to take a nap but you’re just irritated by his teasing.

“I’m fine, I could be a lot better.” And your thigh twitches beneath Jaehyun’s fingers. You can hear the smirk in his next words.

“I’m sorry my darling, is there anything I could do to make it better?” His thumb gently strokes your thigh, he’s not going to do anything that you don’t directly ask him to do. You blush heavily and check the cars around you to see that all their occupants are only focused on what they’re doing. You won’t ask him to touch you, that’s degrading when you’re not in a begging mood. You lean your arm up against the window to support your head while also hiding part of your face, and with your other hand, you gently play with the hem of your dress before lightly rubbing yourself over your panties. Jaehyun’s expression is amused “Are you sure there’s nothing you want, baby?” You shrug and just sit there for a minute before running your hand up and down your thigh. The traffic gradually creeps forward, and just when you hit a slight break and can move a hundred feet forward you lightly guide his hand over your centre. He lazily massages you through the thin material. The traffic is stop and go once again as Jaehyun rubs you through the material, but it’s not enough for what you really want. He hums happily, to any onlooker he probably didn’t look like a guy that was about to a finger a girl in the passenger seat.

“Anything else you might like to make the car ride better, darling?” He asks very nonchalantly as if he wasn’t massaging you between your legs. You’re not going to move your underwear for him, and you don’t want to have to ask nicely, but Jaehyun is the competitive sort and he hates to lose or be left out.

“Jaehyun, look if you’re not up for the job I can just do it myself.” You snap as you pull your thighs closed, but before you can extricate his hand he uses it to pull your thighs back open. You hide your smirk as Jaehyun moves to prove you wrong and show you just how up to the job he is. He doesn’t rush, but his actions as he pushes your panties to the side are very deliberate and a wee bit rough. You’re embarrassingly slick already as his finger slowly strokes you. He still hums a little as you sigh in pleasure and contentment. Jaehyun rubs circles on your clit until you’re biting back gasps that threaten to spill from your lips. You’re so close to cumming when he backs off a little, he’s doing something you’ll never tell him you love. He brings you to the edge of orgasming three more times, so it sits like a fiery ball of pleasure and pressure inside of you. The circles he draws are slow and teasing, and then he changes that tempo to quick flicks and then he rubs in circles with slightly more pressure. There is no holding back now as your eyes screwed tight shut as you brace yourself with your arm against the window and you whimper as your climax consumes you and licks at your insides. Your orgasm washes over you in waves that gradually ebb away. Jaehyun guides you through it, his attention never dwindling, while he also steers gracefully through the traffic that seems to be opening up. You look over at his profile, his hand still rests caressing your thigh and his chin is slightly tucked which allows you to see his slight double chin. You smile to yourself and the sun streams in the car window, bathing you in its golden light. Once you’re on the highway and really moving Jaehyun turns on the playlist he made for this trip; it’s soft and summery, you feel like you should be in a convertible with your hair flying everywhere and getting into your mouth whenever you try and speak. You are almost asleep, and his hand feels wonderfully warm against your skin and you can’t help but think that you would happily drive across multiple countries with him.

“Jaehyun,” You murmur and turn your head to look at him.

“Mm-hmm,”

“I love you.” He looks over at you with a smile as these words leave your mouth. Jaehyun brings one of your hands to his lips and gently kisses it.

“I love you, too, Y/N.”

As soon as the car is emptied and the bags are in the little beach house you jump into Jaehyun’s arms.

“Hello, darling,” he smiles as he kisses you.

“Hi, lover,” you say as your lips form a smile against his. Jaehyun carries you as he walks to the couch and sits down. You are straddling him as you sit in his lap while holding and kissing each other. It feels wonderful, an ocean breeze drifts through the open window accompanied by the chirping of birds and insect noises. Jaehyun leans his forehead against yours, “What do you want to do?” he purrs against your skin.

“Mmhhm, have a tour?” You reply as you pull away to look at the little house you’re in. Jaehyun doesn’t miss a beat as he cockily smirks and begins to unbutton his shirt with a shrug of his broad shoulders.

“Well, I mean gladly, but it’s not like you haven’t seen it many times.” You groan and hit his chest when you realize that he’s talking about his body. “Okay, okay,” he concedes as you get off his lap and he places kisses on your hands and one more on your forehead once he stands up. The cottage is small but comfortable, the ground floor being a small kitchen, living room, with the first bedroom and bathroom. The second floor is a loft bedroom with lots of windows, a private bathroom, and a small corner desk; trees shade the afternoon sun from the west. A neighbouring rooftop can be seen through the tree foliage, but otherwise, the cottage is extremely private from the dense trees and shrubs. To the east, the sea is visible.

“The sunrise will be over the ocean here.” You say with a smile as Jaehyun hugs you from behind, and he holds you close as he sways from side to side placing kisses behind your ear. You can smell the sea in the breeze that floats through the room and your mind feels as if it’s in a little lull as Jaehyun slowly backs both of you up before falling into bed together.

————————————————————————————

You wake up from your nap hungry and roll over to find Jaehyun gone. Soon this will be normal, soon you’ll never wake up to Jaehyun again. A pen and unused letter paper sit on the nightstand, and your chest hurts at the thought of losing him.

“Hey, darling, you’re awake,” Jaehyun says softly and pulls you out of your reverie.

“Where were you?” He had startled you, but you try to brush that off with your demanding tone.

“I had to mail something.” He sits down on the bed, and he looks at you with an expression that is sad but also happy.

“Do we have any food?” You ask sitting up and you reach your hand out to hold his.

“No, we’ll have to go shopping.” Jaehyun murmurs against your head as you lean into his chest. His hand rubs circles into your back while you breathe in Jaehyun’s intoxicating scent. This was going to be the most difficult two weeks of your life; it’s only been a few hours yet you can feel the lump in your throat. You refuse to let your emotions get the best of you and are resolved to stay as calm as Jaehyun. You pull away and get up to dress as he sits and watches. There should be a lifetime more of moments like these: kissing him desperately when you’re only half dressed; tugging on his hand as you rush out the door; browsing the aisles of a convenience store looking for items that pique your appetite; intertwining fingers as you sit on the sand at the beach after midnight; curling up against his chest as you watch movies together; leaning over his shoulder when he’s on his laptop while pressing kisses to the back of his neck.

On Sunday you break out the toy that you are excited to use on Jaehyun. After breakfast and a walk, and slipping into something more comfortable (a flowy sundress and some lace boyshorts) you find him out on the patio next to the small pool and gardens; this afternoon will be all about Jaehyun. The breeze gently ruffles his dark hair and the sunlight dapples him through the tree leaves. He’s beautiful in this moment, his eyelids flutter open and close and a small smile appears when he feels you sit down next to him.

“Hello, sweetpea” you coo as you brush the hair back from his temples and place soft kisses around his mouth. You are pleasantly surprised when Jaehyun grabs the back of your neck to guide your lips to his, his eagerness is apparent in the hungry and decisive kisses. Your hands slowly explore his body as he pulls you closer so that you have to straddle him. You suck on his lower lip and pull it between your teeth, as you grind against the front of his pants you gently tug at his hair to pull his head back. Once his neck is exposed you are able to suck and nip at it, earning low moans as he reaches up to play with your breasts.

“You don’t have to, today is about you.” You tell him.

“I know, but It feels good for me too.” And you can’t deny him anything, especially when you enjoy it so much. You continue to lazily roll your hips against his crotch every now and again as your mouths’ meet again and tongues’ explore. Gradually, each hip motion draws a low groan from Jaehyun’s lips and his hand glides up your leg and beneath your dress. He softly caresses your thigh with his long pretty fingers “Let’s go inside.” he says as you suck a mark onto his soft skin. You’re very coy as you lead him into the house, never letting go of his hand as you gently lead him to the couch and have him sit so that you can straddle him again.

“Why aren’t we going upstairs?” He pulls away to ask, he looks disappointed and you let out an airy, tinkling laugh.

“Be patient, my love,” you tell him as you stroke his cheeks and brush his hair off of his face again. His lips are firm against yours as you grip his shoulder and neck gently. Jaehyun’s hand makes its way up your dress so that his hand is resting on your back. This moment could last a hundred years and you wouldn’t get tired of it. The golden sun beams through the tall windows, but a breeze causes goosebumps to prick your skin; except where yours and Jaehyun’s skin touches causing it to burn with desire. Jaehyun inhales sharply as you palm his crotch before slipping a hand up his shirt. You part briefly so that he can remove his shirt and you gently pinch and rub his nipples. His tongue submits to yours, only pulling you closer to himself as you take control of the deep kiss before paying homage to his neck and collarbone. You play his toned body as well you possibly can; reading and reacting to his every twitch and every moan. You don’t leave an inch of Jaehyun’s upper body unexplored; kissing, biting, and massaging all if it.

“Let’s go upstairs now,” you murmur against his soft lips as you kiss his mouth again. Before you can make any protests, Jaehyun has picked you up and slowly makes his way to the loft bedroom with your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. Once you reach the bedroom, he puts you down but your lips remain securely attached to each other’s as you back him towards the bed. Discreetly, you turn on one of his playlists that you had saved. You help him remove his last articles of clothing before pushing him down on the bed. A few curses and low groans leave his mouth as you take his cock into your mouth, sinking as far onto his shaft as you can without gagging. You do this a few more times, agonizingly slowly, and Jaehyun’s fingers weave themselves tightly into your hair. You sit up and grab a bottle of lube that sits on the bedside table.

“Do you want me to—?” You leave the question hanging in the air as Jaehyun’s eyes cloud over with lust as he gazes at you.

“Yes,” he says it breathily, it almost comes out as a moan and you smile because you rarely get to see him like this. You squeeze the lube onto your fingers and your mouth returns to his cock as you gently push a digit into him. You don’t want him to come just yet, so you keep the stimulation on his cock to a minimum: licks, sucks, and an occasional bob of your head as you stretch him out to handle three of your fingers. A strangled moan leaves his mouth as you lick his dick and rub his prostate; you smile as you realize this is a side of Jaehyun that you have never seen.

“Please, Y/N, I really want it now.” Jaehyun whines as he grips the bedsheets with one hand and your hair with the other.

“Okay, sweetie, since you asked so nicely.” You say to him with a smile, and he smiles watches intently as you put on the strap on and lube it up.

“Turn around and get on your knees.” You tell him, and just like the first time you were together; he quickly does as you say. You squeeze his ass that is now presented to you and press kisses along his spine. Jaehyun’s breath hitches as you slowly push the toy into him. You keep your pace slow as you apply some extra lube to your hand before reaching around him to stroke his cock as it twitches against his stomach. Sinful moans fall from Jaehyun’s mouth, and he asks you to fuck him faster only for a slew of swears to leave his lips. You are enjoying watching him come so undone like this that you are mostly silent, only focusing on Jaehyun’s mounting pleasure. You sync the movements of your thrusts with the strokes of your slippery hand, bringing Jaehyun to his climax with a groan that he tries to contain only for it to turn into a small cry of pleasure as he spills his seed out over your fingers to drip onto the bed. You massage his back as he collapses onto the bed, shuddering, to regain his breath.

“You did so well, Jae, I love you so much.” You whisper near his ear as you continue to massage him.

“That was...thank you so much; I love you so much, too.” And he turns to look up at you with sleepy eyes.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, sweetpea.” You say as you place a kiss on the soft skin of his forehead.

————————————————————————————

“Is it everything I like?” You ask Jaehyun as he secures the rope that binds your wrists to the arms of the chair your sitting in.

“Yes, I followed your instructions: no annoying moaners, no ridiculous plots, lots of threesomes, realistic sex, and no gratuitous full frontal male nudity—what’s up with that though? What’s wrong with men’s body’s?”

“Nothing’s wrong with them, you’re just really the only man I want to see naked anymore.” You say it sweetly, but still so that he knows you’re telling the truth. He looks at you for a moment, his mouth hangs open a bit,

“That’s...the nicest thing anyone has said about me like that.” And he chuckles before kissing your temple.

“That’s sad,” you say sassily back to him; which is a bit comical as he has you tied to a desk chair sitting in front of the tv, with a sexy top and no underwear on. This was your fantasy, this was the crazy thing you wanted to do this week: be bound and unable to move or touch yourself as you watch a couple hours of porn that he handpicked for you, while Jaehyun goes out for a while to do whatever he wants only to come back to his girl horny and dripping on the furniture.

“Be a good girl for me, won’t you?” He says kissing your mouth.

“Never,” you reply as he pulls away, you’re grinning at him until he pinches your nipple, causing you to yelp. Jaehyun presses ‘play’ on the remote before setting it well out of your reach, and walks down the stairs. You’re watching a woman massage another woman when you hear the door close, signaling Jaehyun’s exit. You feel like such a nympho; within a few minutes you’re tingling pleasantly, but after two short scenes and a third one beginning—a threesome with a strap-on no less—you’re most definitely throbbing. After an hour you can feel how swollen your pussy lips are, and there really is no way to satisfy the ever constant dull throb because you can’t even comfortably roll your hips in the chair with how Jaehyun has your legs tied. You want to be pounded into the mattress like the girl you’re watching now is. You feel thirsty and parched, you just want Jaehyun to hurry home and fuck you until you can’t think or walk straight. Jaehyun comes home early, and you are so relieved to hear the door...only he doesn’t join you right away. You can hear him moving around downstairs; in the kitchen, walking here and there in his bare feet. You call his name a few times, but he makes no answer besides “Hey, I hope you’re being a good girl for me!” He pays you absolutely no attention, frustrating you immensely in your current state. You sit there for a good ten minutes before you start moaning and mewling like the woman on the screen; except she’s moaning “fuck” and you’re moaning “Jaehyun” loud enough for him to hear it. Your eyes are closed and you don’t hear Jaehyun creep up the stairs above your noises until the tv is abruptly shut off. You shudder as your eyes snap open to see Jaehyun standing over you. Hair is wet, as are the swimming shorts he wears, he looks sun-kissed and windswept. He reaches to stroke your face before putting a finger into your mouth to drag your bottom lip down.

“Hello my sweet, I can smell you.” He smiles at you as he kneels down and you blush at his comment.

“Oh my, what do we have here?” He teases as he sneaks his hand between your legs, “Y/N, you have made quite a mess.” Jaehyun tilts your chin up with his free hand to kiss your parted lips, and he swallows the moan that tries to spill from you as he strokes your dripping core. He stands up and pulls off his shorts and then pumps his half-hard cock a few times before guiding it into your mouth. You diligently try and make him hard with your mouth, but your movements are still restricted by the ties.

“Okay darling,” Jaehyun pulls away from you again and his cock stands firmly against his belly, “What would you like me to do?”

“Untie me, please,” You are nearly begging because of how desperately horny you are. Jaehyun unties your wrists and ankles so that your legs can finally part naturally.

“Get on the bed on your knees,” Jaehyun instructs, and he stands there stroking himself while you do as you’re told. “Now take your top off,” and he takes a few steps toward the bed as you comply with this new instruction. He kneels on the bed in front of you and takes a breast in each hand as he kisses you. “Now turn around.” He whispers against your mouth. Jaehyun pushes your upper body forward onto your elbows as he enters you excruciatingly slowly from behind. You gasp and bite back a mewl that threatens to slip from your mouth as he easily slides into you. Within a few thrusts, you can feel your climax bubbling like hot lava in your belly. You can feel your essence run down your legs, and Jaehyun’s thrusts remain slow and deep as he reaches around to rub your clit.

“Jaehyun I’m gonna—I can’t hold it anymore—“

“I know, darling,” he murmurs between your moans, his voice and movements soft and tender as the fire in your belly consumes you. His gentle actions continue until you still against the bedsheets, lightly gasping for air. Jaehyun rubs your back as he pulls out of you and tucks your hair behind your ear. He lays on the bed next to you, “Come here,” and gestures for you to ride him. Your movements are slow and it almost feels a bit much when you sink down onto his cock, but you are able to control the depth and speed while you’re still sensitive after your last orgasm. You thread your fingers through his damp hair as you lean down to kiss him, slowly rolling your hips until the sensitivity fades. His hands never stop stroking and exploring your body, the soft pads of his fingers press, glide and squeeze every inch that he can reach. Jaehyun smells like the ocean, and his skin tastes like the ocean: at this moment he exists in the heat of a summer day. You’re in love with a season that is fleeting and can never be yours; it comes and brings all its joys and wonders, and it leaves you behind burning and touched by its passions. But Jaehyun hasn’t left yet, he is still here—you are still here; you can feel his skin against yours, and his breath intermingled with yours, and his heartbeat against your palm. It is still summer, the leaves have yet to fall. You feel a wonderful and familiar sensation again in your core as the sensitivity is replaced with pleasure. A sheen of sweat covers your body as you ride him, gasping when Jaehyun pays attention to your hardened nipples.

“I love you,” Jaehyun says, and you look down at him with heavy-lidded eyes and parted lips to lose yourself in his lust and love filled eyes.

“Jaehyun, I want you to fuck me—I need you to fuck me like you never have before.” With no warning, he rolls you over so that he’s on top, and his lips immediately find yours as he brings one of your legs up near your head. He holds your legs wide and thrusts slow and deep, his cock grazing over the sweet spot inside of you right away. A bead of sweat from Jaehyun falls on you, and your body’s burn against each other in perfect harmony. He grunts as his thrusts hit you faster and as deep as possible, never letting up, and you hold onto him for dear life as you focus on him here now in your arms to stave off your climax for as long as possible. He pounds into you and you feel like you have forgotten how to breathe, but you must be breathing because you cannot control of moans coming from your lips. The fire you feel in your core is overwhelming, and the lewd noises of slapping skin and gasps and mewls fill the humid bedroom. You cry out as your orgasm overtakes you again, screwing your eyes shut as you bite down on Jaehyun’s shoulder, relishing in the feeling of your cunt pulsing around him. The feeling dies off only to light up once again as he fucks into you hard, and it all feels like too much but Jaehyun is nearing his end as he presses your legs even further apart and up to fuck you impossibly deep and hard. Pleasure swallows you, Jaehyun’s weight crushes you, and he’s whimpering as his cum fills you to the brim and leaks out between each thrust. He collapses on top of you, releasing your legs and burying his head into your shoulder. The heat overwhelms, Jaehyun’s scent overwhelms you, but most of all the feeling of your love for him crushes you and your throat is sore not from your cries of pleasure but from the repression of tears. It’s still summer, it’s too early to mourn for a season that has not passed. You swallow the lump in your throat, “I love you, too” you tell him between your gasps for breath. Jaehyun’s breathing is still laboured as he peppers your neck and shoulder with kisses.

————————————————————————————

You and Jaehyun spend the week sleeping in and walking on the beach with the hot sand scorching your feet. Movies are started, but halfway through you both decide that you’d rather be making love instead. You each enjoy getting handcuffed to the headboard on separate occasions, and the couch becomes a favourite spot for lazier sex. You cook together and eat together, you read books together which only turns into a couple nap session. You stay up late talking to each other with only the moon’s velvety luminescence shining upon your face’s. By the last day, you are living in Jaehyun’s clothes, wearing his shirts as entire shirt outfits around the cottage and throwing on a pair of your own shorts only if you are going out in public. A week is never long enough to live together in love: it flies by in an instant and leaves you kicking yourself for not saying enough. On the drive back to Seoul you hold hands and don’t speak; back to the land of packed boxes and wedding preparations. For a week they were forgotten; reality was put on pause for the sake of impossible bliss. He was like no one else, other lovers paled in comparison to Jaehyun and this love made you feel more alive than any other.

Johnny had arranged a goodbye party for you for the night before you leave Korea. The gang’s all there, with Johnny, Mark, and Yuta being especially clingy. Misook and Minseok are there, but they no longer parade around like the couple the still undoubtedly are; it’s practice for next month and the years to come. You wonder if they will stay together, or if the situation will be too awkward and put too much strain on their relationship. Jaehyun is aloof the entire night and Yuta teases him, “Aren’t you going to miss her!” To which Jaehyun only feigns a chuckle with a slight nod of his head. Ten brings in a cake, slapping away Mark’s hand as he tries to steal a strawberry off of it.

“It’s not my birthday!” You laugh, thanking Ten and Johnny with hugs. Yuta quickly hands you a knife to cut the cake with.

“The party’s too sad, I need cake now,” He says with a flash of his brilliant smile, a smile that makes you smile in return.

“Wow, Y/N’s slices are so neat and perfect,” Jungwoo says as he leans over your shoulder like a child impatiently waiting their turn.

“Yeah, they’re, like...exact.” Mark makes an awkward gesture with his hands to replicate the shapes of the slices. You laugh out loud, unsure if you’re embarrassed with him or by him.

“I’m gonna miss you, kid.” You tell Mark, smiling at him while Doyoung chuckles beside you as he hands out slices of the cake.

“I’m not that much younger than you!” But Mark laughs too, his nose scrunching as he giggles. You catch Johnny in an intense conversation with Jaehyun out of the corner of your eye, Jaehyun is...someone you aren’t ready to deal with quite yet.

After cake Johnny suggests that everyone go around and say a few words, it’s mostly the same stuff they said at Kun’s going away party. Doyoung thanked you for being a refreshing addition to their group,

“Was it nice to have another voice of reason around, Hyung?” Jungwoo says.

“Yes!” Doyoung exclaims with a gummy smile.

“Thank you for putting up with all of our shenanigans—better than Doyoung hyung does! I sincerely hope you enjoy the rest of your life.” Mark is lovely and sweet as he says this, but you still all crack up at his words.

“The ‘rest of my life’, jeez, that sounds scary.” you joke, but you smile thankfully at Mark.

“Come visit Osaka sometime and I’ll show you around.” Yuta grins and squeezes your hand. It’s Jaehyun’s turn next, and part of you hopes that he doesn’t say anything.

“Study hard and create lots of new memories.” He frowns while saying it and for a moment an awkward silence hangs in the air, which must confuse a majority of the people in the room.

“Yes, lots of new memories—but don’t forget the ones we made!” Johnny jumps in, “Going home to family is so special; take care of yourself and let others take care of you when you need it. Thank you for being more than just a voice of reason and a doting noona—“ the younger boys chuckle “But also for being up for every part of the culture we wanted to show you.”

“Yes, thank you for taking Korean cooking classes with me!” Yuta chimes in and it’s your turn to laugh. Johnny glances at Jaehyun before continuing:

“You will be missed and never forgotten; you left your mark...now go home and have a ‘sincerely’ nice rest of your life, and don’t break too many hearts.” John smiles and winks, there is a round of applause and you are enveloped in a hug by the tall man.

“Thank you,” you squeak as he hugs you too tightly. Jiwoo gifts you a small carved jewelry box, and Taeyong gives you a bag of ramen flavouring packets.

“Do you just have, like, 50 ramen noodles at home now?” You ask him in disbelief.

“Yes,” and he giggles cutely before continuing “They’re the ones you like, and I don’t know if you can get them at home.” You would hug him, but you don’t want to make him all flustered.

Saying goodbye to your friends that you have made in the last two years is harder than you thought, but you also miss your friends and family back home.

——————————————————————————

You unlock the door to the apartment that will soon no longer be yours, and drop the little bag of gifts right inside next to a suitcase. “Those will have to be packed, too.” You mutter to yourself. The light is on in the kitchen, and the tea kettle is nearly whistling. As you lean against the counter and close your eyes Jaehyun’s arms wrap around you from behind and his face presses against you to breathe you in. He left the party with Misook long before you.

“What have you been doing?” You ask as you lean into him.

“Lying on your bed, and going through your drawers to make sure you didn’t forget anything.”

“What’s the hot water for?”

“I thought you might like tea.” He knew you too well, a mug sat on the counter with a tea bag already. This was it, this was the end. This was how summer would come to a close for you in life. You poured the boiling water into the mug and turned in Jaehyun’s arms to face him.

“I love you,” you tell him as you look up at his face and intertwine your fingers on the back of his neck.

“I love you, too.” And he places soft kisses over your forehead and temples. You don’t know what to do, you don’t know how to face the last night: the last time having sex, the last kisses, the last laughs, and the last time waking up next to him. You stand there together for a long time before Jaehyun eventually helps you to get ready for bed.

“What’s wrong?” He asks as you push him away as he tries to help you into your pajama top.

“What’s the point, it’s gonna come off anyway.” You say pulling him to you. You mean to be sexy, but you feel sad, you feel crushed and devastated. It’s not that you don’t want to leave and go home, you just don’t want to leave him. Soberly, Jaehyun takes his t-shirt off and then runs his hands up and down your sides. Your breasts lightly brush against his naked upper body as he dips down to kiss you, and you’re not sure if you can breathe as you pull him down onto the bed with you. You want to feel his weight and see his face tonight, his skin is hot against yours as is the room’s air. It’s a game of equals as you can’t tell who’s kissing whom, and you hook your feet around his waist to keep him against you. You savour the taste of his skin and how his fingers squeeze and grasp your body; his hair is thick and soft between your fingers as you run your hands through it. The emotions you feel right now crush you as you lick a strip up his neck before Jaehyun dips his head down to your cleavage and breasts to nip, squeeze, and suck them. It’s a haze of whispered ‘I love yous’ and ‘you’re beautifuls’ and somewhere in there the last remaining articles of clothing are shed and it’s just two people deeply in love and deeply hurt. You are all sensibility and no sense as you feel tears prick your eyes as Jaehyun’s length slowly enters you; filling you completely. Neither of you masks any sound or a single breath. His thrusts are slow and deliberate, and sweat lubricates your body’s so that your skin glides against one another. For a moment he stops moving and you just kiss each other like...you won’t kiss tomorrow. Your finger nails must leave a few crescent shapes in his skin as you gasp for breath before he rolls the both of you over. You roll your hips against his and attach your lips to his neck. A fiery heat builds in you as he squeezes your ass and encourages tiny bounces from your hips.

“I don’t want this to ever end,” you cry in pleasure having to hold back a physical sob as you collapse against his chest and he rolls over onto you again.

“I’ve got you baby, you’re all mine.” Jaehyun chokes into your neck, something hot and wet falls onto your shoulder. It’s just sweat you tell yourself, but Jaehyun has hidden his face from you while he glides easily in and out of your hot folds. Jaehyun hooks one of your legs over his shoulder so that he can penetrate you deeper as he quickly yet gently fucks you. Your climax builds and nears as he brings a hand to your breast and you feel his thick cock twitch inside of you. Your moans are a chorus together, beautiful but stark in the otherwise quiet room. It’s an empty room; empty shelves and drawers, it’s clean and bare save for the two people joined in a sweaty love-filled union on the bed. Your face contorts in ecstasy as your orgasm peaks when you feel Jaehyun’s seed spurt against your walls. Maybe you have been crying this whole time, you’re not even sure but you feel a plump tear roll down your cheek now followed by another. It takes a moment for you to realize that you are both gasping and crying against one another, and you can feel Jaehyun’s softening cock inside of you as he makes no attempt to move. There is a sob that sits in your throat and threatens to wrack your entire body if you give in to it, you force his face towards yours and are devastated to find it tear-stained and pink. He wipes away the tears hastily, he almost seems embarrassed that you saw them but he kisses the trails your tears have left on your cheeks down to your mouth.

“Why didn’t—“ you choke against the lump in your throat “You ever ask me to stay?”

Jaehyun doesn’t wipe away his fresh tears as he answers, “Because I can’t give you the life you deserve here” and a silent sob shakes your shoulders now “You deserve to be with someone always, and have a family, and a career that makes you proud. You deserve to be surrounded by people that love you—“ you kiss him to drown out your sobs. “I can’t give you enough here because I’m stifled, I am so sorry I wasn’t able to stand up for myself and marry you and have beautiful children with you and grow old next to you.” His hot tears fall fresh on your face and it takes everything you have to suppress your sobs. You can’t give in to them yet, he’s still here in your arms, he’s still loving and holding you. You kiss Jaehyun’s lips to calm the both of you down and it must work because after a few minutes you feel lighter than before and his cock begins to harden inside of you again. You make love three more times that night, each time it feels closer and more emotionally raw than the last.

————————————————————————————

You are exhausted upon waking up and Jaehyun lies next to you, watching you.

“I had to watch you wake up one more time.” He smiles, but it’s a sad smile. Everything is tinged with melancholy this morning; the kisses, the morning routines, the last minute checks to see that you’re not forgetting something. Jaehyun drives you to the airport and gets out to help unload the suitcases you’re taking on the plane with you.

“Passport?”

“Yes.”

“Wallet?”

“Yes.”

“Boarding pass?”

“Yes. I love you.” Jaehyun smiles at your words and takes your hands in his.

“I love you, too, Y/N.”

You reach up to kiss him: yes it’s public—but Jaehyun’s grandmother could have been watching from 5 feet away and you still wouldn’t have cared less. It’s love, and you were losing it.

“Jaehyun,”

“Yes, my little love.”

“Take care of yourself.” You smile as best you can before squeezing his hand one last time and walking away with a suitcase in each hand. He doesn’t call back to you, he doesn’t run after you...he lets you go. There is a part of you that expects that he might have a sudden crazy change of heart and burst into the airport at any second. You board the plane knowing full well that are leaving Jaehyun behind, and that he didn’t follow and that you’re not actually going to run away together. You lock yourself inside the tiny bathroom to cry, but it’s like you’re in shock and the tears won’t come.

You feel numb as you greet your parents at the airport and they drive you home. Your house is mostly empty because your parents are spending most of their summer at the family lake house. Your room hasn’t changed, textbooks still lie around but you left it fairly neat before you left. It was a half-used room then as you spent half your time in a university dorm or your ex’s apartment. You had your big childhood home mostly to yourself now. Your mom has left a pile of mail from the last few weeks on your bed, and your eye catches a letter that sits on top of the pile. Your stomach plummets at the sight of the familiar handwriting, and when you pick it up with trembling hands you can see that it was mailed from Naksan. Tears well in your eyes as you open it and you feel as though you can’t breathe as you read it.

My darling lover,

If you are reading this letter, then I have made the biggest mistake of my life by not following you home or not convincing you to run away with me. As I write this you are asleep in bed next to me. This chapter is over for us, I hope your regrets are few or none. Please start many new chapters; fall in love, have a fulfilling career, and have lots of games of hide and seek with your beautiful children in the house you grew up in. Do not think of me with sadness or regret, but just as a lover you once knew. You laughed in your sleep just now beside me. Did you know you do that sometimes? The you that is beside me right now must be happy, but you that is reading this letter may have tears in your eyes as I have in mine writing this. Wipe them away and cherish them for a few moments and then forget them. Months ago you called this “ill-fated love”, and you were quite right. Thank you for letting me love you, thank you for loving me, and thank you for breaking my heart. One last time: I love you, Y/N...so much that it hurts.

-Jaehyun

“I love you, too” you whisper before your body is consumed with grief and sobs. You collapse onto your bed where your mother finds you inconsolable a short while later, but she asks for no explanations and sits with you rubbing your back and stroking your hair until you cry yourself to sleep.

Next

[cyrelia-j]

[Fic] Me Tangere (Jack/Parmak)

Continuing with this since a bug kinda bit me on the pairing. Still for @borg-apologist who I want to give such massive undying thanks to for being so encouraging with this ridiculously self indulgent series. I don't normally do romance but I love this damn sappy over the top gooeyness of this universe and these characters.

Anyway, this is a sequel to Dear Jessie which is from Parmak's POV and can be found HERE

Note: This does feature C132 Parmak (Don’t know what that means? click HERE for the in depth but basically it’s an off canon version who’s different from traditional canon Parmak) and a LOT of headcanon made up stuff.

Summary: Ten years after moving to Cardassia Jack often finds himself reflecting on all the Good things in his life sure to keep his timers for them all. Two and a half kids, one Kelas, and a perfect morning in the garden, and he still can't quite believe it's all real.

Warnings: Fluff to the max, intersex Parmak who's pregnant in this story, talks of Jack's mental, impulse control, anxiety, augment issues, Jack's POV so it's very stream of conscious and Julian still doesn't come off too well because it's Jack's POV, past bad parenting and implied child abuse, Alternate Reality (mainly the same universe but averted Dominion War and some characters meeting under different circumstances), brief sexual content too

So if you wanted a sequel, here's your sequel :)

Juggling was one of the first things that he learned to do when he became aware that he was “different”. His father used to have all sorts of euphemisms that he would use aside from “different”. His father, his mother, any number of black and whites rushing around the busy house like one of the old gala scenes in the movies that he used to enjoy watching. His father would also say that juggling was a Supreme Waste (capitals!) of the gifts that he’d been given and Jack - Jack of all trades he liked to call himself using his middle name instead of the dull old John J”-  said if the old man paid all that money he could do anything he wanted and if he didn’t sleep he’d have more time. The old man didn’t rightly have an answer to that one, Jack winning, counting the score down as he learned to juggle eleven knives at once by the time he was thirteen.

Time, time was something the old man used to rail about. Brevis tui tempu est his old man would drone at him while his mother smiled and told him to listen because the old bastard was very wise. He’d go on about a lot of things often, frequently, all the time Very Loudly until Jack started hiding from him considering the matter of time on one of the high branches of the old oaks where they couldn’t easily reach him; at least not until they cut every one of them down. Jack considered that mutants like him should live longer if anything. But the old man didn’t like his Truths contradicted firing decrees from behind the old mahogany desk like a God himself. That desk was huge, austere, like the old man himself all dark eyebrows, dark eyes, sometimes turning into some giant owl in his vision or morphing to The General telling how some animals were more equal than others.

Jack was more equal than others. Jack was special. Jack was the investment of a lifetime buy sell buy till the old man jumped out the window just like one of those old fat cats in the twentieth century. Didn’t jump so much as pushed but that wasn’t anyone’s business but Jack and God’s and there was no God so it was Jack’s and Jack’s alone, damn right! Ah, amend that amend that, his business was his bondmate’s business too. Bondmate, husband, jailer warden, ah no, Incorrect thought with a capital “I”. Those Incorrect thoughts are fewer and fewer nowadays. Correct thought: Kelas is… everything. Kelas, Jessie, Kiss, and-

“Focus.” Jack hears the child’s voice and looks down, seeing his oldest looking up at him and he sets down all four of the large pots he’s been juggling, one after the other onto the sand. Jessie is nearly five now and is old enough now that ze recognizes when Jack’s mind needs to be tugged back with a small cue; like now. Kelas taught zem that, his brilliant Jessie picking it up so quickly. Correction, he thinks as he looks over to Kelas kneeling in the sand next to Kiss (“Kiss” because Jessie couldn’t say “Kesya” when ze was first born) adding water to the white sand to make a castle little by little. Their  child and Jack’s goddamn genius – is he or isn’t he a mutant little smirk ‘wouldn’t you like to know?’- bondmate is four months pregnant with their third. “Theirs”. That’s the correction that he makes. He’s gotten much better at those Johnny on the spot mental corrections since he met Kelas over ten years ago.

Kelas looks over at him and there’s this soft little smile, this look on his face that’s identical to the one he gave him in the Replimat the day they met, when Jack said he was blind and that Cardassia needed better optometrists if he couldn’t tell the difference between Jack and Julian with those spectacles and... shit... God there’s no God, no proof for God except that smile.  Jack had yelled at him with a jump off the table and Kelas had just laughed and then Jack was right there in his face and he’d stopped and looked down because he was just a little taller than Jack but he could see that Kelas was looking at him not afraid but like somehow Jack’s outburst was the most amazing thing he’d ever seen… I love you the more in that I believe you had liked me for my own sake and for nothing else. No, that’s Keats, not God Jesus, Mary, and Joseph same difference!

Jack thrives on the exercise he gets in that sprawling sand garden, succulents and other desert plants like one of the Zen gardens he’s seen pictures of making it a magical place like falling through a looking glass and finding the gardens of Ginkaku-ji on the other end instead of Underland. Well missing most of the coveted trees but he and Kelas and their family have spent years building it beautiful and art brought to life any why couldn’t the old man pay for some natural artistic painting enhancement because he can speak every language he tries to learn but he can’t capture Kelas or his children in more than memories. Ah right, because life isn’t perfect and if it was it would be dull and Jack is Absolutely not dull. He’s the Best Daddy as Jessie says and Kiss repeats and their children aren’t liars so that’s that. Every morning he’s out here barefoot in his loose trousers -how novel is that for him of all people not to be wearing a shirt?- with katas, with tumbles, sweat drenched before the sun is too high and his pale skin in has to be doused and drenched in sunscreen. Jack hatessunscreen.

He usually walks around the city with his big black UV umbrella.

Sometimes Jessie likes to drag the rake through the sand to make the patterns in the sand of the shared garden; this one is more secluded, closer to their modest dwelling than the others. Sometimes ze and Kiss fight over the rake; sometimes Jack joins in too though more often than not Kelas thwaps his shoulder with a book and tells him playfully to behave. Kelas will raise the big tome kissing him long and sweetly behind it, those full lips begging to be bitten ‘til they’re flushed dark gray, It’s one of many games they like to play, kissing until one or both kids yell “Aha!” declaring they’ve been spotted. They laugh when the book lowers and Jack is red and Kelas is just beaming with his glasses half askew. They have endless ridiculous little games they play and Jack is always amazed by how Good this is. Jack doesn’t remember his parents ever… doesn’t remember old George and Martha ever… old swampy ever being anything but cold to each other snip snap at the table clattering spoons and little presses of napkins to mouths.

“Right here, Jessie Jess mmhm. Your turn?” he asks going to one knee, letting himself be knocked backwards when ze yells “yes!” because they’re outdoors and outdoors they can be loud as they want. He gives a good dramatic death yell as his back hits the ground, holding his baby close a moment as he falls. Almost five, Jessie always corrects him, not a baby, Four years nine months nine days ten hours five minutes three seconds... and Jack watches his mouth, ensuring that any kisses are Cardassian presses of two quick fingers – index and middle – to each other. Things around his mouth make Jack anxious because he wants to nip and that leads to gnawing, to biting and that’s only acceptable if it’s Kelas.

Sometimes Kiss or Jessie will give him little nips to the rings on his fingers to show affection and he… doesn’t know how he feels about that because it’s special and theirs but it’s not typical as Bashir says with those castigating hidden expressions that he thinks that Jack can’t see just like he says it isn’t healthy for them to see the marks and the blood when he and Kelas kiss hard but they don’t get upset, they only laugh at how silly yadek and his red mouth look and… and Jack is Careful, always careful with the two of them because he would sooner die than hurt them and Kelas will tell him that he’s too most conscientious delicate and it isn’t necessary to self-flagellate and if he doesn’t knock it off he’s going to start calling him “Dimmesdale” which is absurd because Kelas is no Hester Prynne in any sense of the character and he should understand that  it absolutely is necessary to be careful because he broke too many children when he was a child even if he didn’t mean it and-

“Focus.” Jessie repeats, this time with a tap to his nose giving him a terribly weighty look; Jessie takes “helping daddy fix his head” very seriously. Jack blinks and nods. That’s a very serious second warning there!

“Right! We’re going upside down today hm hm?” Jessie nods excited, scampering off him, jumping at Jack the moment he stands back up. Jack catches zem easily around the waist, his baby a little monkey climbing up his shoulders. The air on Cardassia brings him alive even if it is warmer than he’s used to. Kelas says with a face, a precious Kelas face that he makes when something irritates him - cute, so cute will always be adorable a hundred two hundred, Jack doesn’t care - that the air of Nokar is the purest most amazing smell. He knows that Kelas still thinks about going back, away from Central, away from the southern continents to the Steppe, to the cold and Jack thinks it’s the funniest thing that a Cardassian would long for the cold but he understands it’s so much more than that.

Kelas is a misfit, a mutant too but a damn perfect one and Jack will fight anyone who disagrees.

But for all the stares and the whispers - which he can hear, always hear with his enhanced hearing - Jack has never found a place more of a home than on Cardassia Prime. Bashir, passing normal Federation mutt, Bashir asked him if he didn’t miss all the comforts of the Federation, the food, the culture, the people who didn’t glare or condescend and a list that went on and Jack had an epiphany. It was brilliant. He wrote it down he was pleased, he read it to Kelas, he read it to Lauren and Patrick and Sarina and a full audience around an evening bonfire to cheers and chirps in fact. Bashir wasn’t a mutant passing as normal, he was a basic passing as One of Them. Jack didn’t read it to Bashir because Bashir wouldn’t get it and the hell with him anyway! Jack didn’t have a lifetime of Federation comforts. He had a prison, he had walls and bars and “do this do that step jump sit behave be Normal!” He had a lifetime of people backing away from him making the sign of the damn cross and ha joke’s on them, mutants aren’t vampires and he could still bite throats out no matter how much garlic they used!

Jack grins big, wide, toothy, vicious as he wants when he looks at his children, when he looks at his Kelas and there’s nothing, no drug, no “Federation comforts” no religion, nothing that could ever bring him the high that their fearless answering smiles brings him. He walks through the streets with every damn one of these Cardassian Morlocks meeting him with a level stare, a sneer, a challenge to prove that he’s their equal. They challenge him when he recites his poetry. They aren’t afraid to shove at him in the crowded markets. They’re not afraid of confrontation, they revel in it, every Sunday morning Jack going into the city to argue with the same old woman selling flowers about every damn thing in the world and no shrinking back when he’s loud, no “shut up” no “behave” no belts no smacks to the mouth nothing but the same irritated arguments that they fling at each other.

Jack keeps grinning like a damn idiot as he looks up, feeling Jessie putting small hands in his ready to be raised up to the top of Mount Parnassus to meet the fabled muses. Jack can see a bit of a tremble of zes arms, but he shouts encouragement, a babbling string at his little hatchling - Kelas says “hatchling” though not properly hatched but that’s pedantic so shut up Jack! - turns himself upside down, holding a count of five before ze flops, Jack catching zem easily, the both of them laughing. It’s a life he never dreamed that he could have and no amount of holofeeds of the “successful augment doctor” like old technicolor popcorn matinee propaganda reels could ever convince him that he and that stupid smiling thing would ever be the same. As long as he lives, Julian will never know what it’s like to have people afraid of him and fuck him anyway. The sharp sound of a clap catches his sensitive ears, head jerking, that instinct relaxing in a split second seeing Kelas applauding him.

Applause isn’t a Cardassian custom, occasionally chirrups or a stamp of feet signify massive approval but Kelas thought the gesture was novel when he learned of it and Jack sees Kiss following along after him when he sets Jessie down. His children love “doing acrobatics with Daddy” and he’s just in awe of how far ahead their development is without being augmented. He teaches the children in their little community they’ve built too and he’s not just biased when he says that Kiss and Jessie are the best of the excitable lot.

“That’s my Jessie Jess hm! Shoot off the guns like Buffalo Bill! There’s a cowboy hm hm! We’ll have you swallowing swords for Emperor Wu mmhm!”

“Ze’s going to be a doctor!” Kelas calls out emphatically with that irritated face.

“Then an acrobat doctor hm. Think if the money you’d pull in adding a few flips to your routine hm. Climb that Bashir beanstalk like a diving board hm hm hop skip splash!”

“Splash!” That’s from Kiss before diving into the half-finished sand castle an explosion of wet sand everywhere on both zem and Kelas. Kelas laughs even as he spits out a mouthful of sand.

“Ah, right, definitely sticking with my usual practice, I think,” he says brushing sand from his lap.

Jack is sure that his face hurts from smiling, Jessie running past him bowling clear into the mess, into Kiss with a yell of “Splash!” the two tumbling around with their little growls play fighting, a little tinkling of beads reaching his ears too as they clank together. Jessie is slim, all limbs like Kelas, a wiry little worm as the two of them wrestle. It seems that Kiss will take after him, stockier, strong - nearly as strong as Jessie at three years six months fifteen days five hours nineteen minutes three seconds. His head is a constant count of every moment of their lives because every atomic second passing by is one that he wants to be thankful for. Kelas suggested that when he told him about the constant numbers and figures and unwanted thought intrusions that he might fill the space with everything positive in his life that he wants to track instead- fill his head so full to bursting that there isn’t room for anything else. So he does.

His head is full of clocks of all colors, shapes, appearance, a clock to count his children’s’ ages, to track the time since he and Kelas met, the time since number three (working title “Seska” still in progress”) was conceived, the time since the community where they live was completed, the time since their petition was approved for Lauren, Patrick, and Sarina to be remanded to their care (take that Nursed Ratched!), and at least half a dozen other events, tracking, counting, numbers flashing but these are Good numbers. Good numbers, good thoughts, his mind is usually a jumble of thoughts, numbers, followed by blinking impulses, little hands that pull at his limbs, his arms and legs, his mouth and make his body sometimes act outside his thoughts. It’s those impulses that he knows make Bashir say that he’s unpredictable and Dangerous and sometimes those thoughts intrude and lock him still afraid to act at all until he can pull himself out of it.

He has one now but it’s not a violent one. He hasn’t had a violent one in years and that one had a very specific trigger. That one was Elim Garak and wasn’t his fault no matter what Bashir said. That was one of the worst ones. That was one of the last ones and Not His Fault! It was Garak. It was Garak’s fault and Jack hates that Bashir thinks it’s some alpha male posturing poppycock that’s completely beneath him but according to Kelas it’s not on his place to speak to Bashir on the wicked devil that he takes to his bed. (Le Démon ! - c'est un Démon, vous savez, ce n'est pas un homme.-that’s Rimbaud predicting the wicked Morlock centuries in advance!). Anyone who scares his Kelas like that… anyone who causes his Kelas to flinch like that, anyone who makes that flash of fear cloud over his eyes is a devil no ifs and or buts and they’re dead!

The first time that he saw Kelas look at Garak, stop, panic, swallow and nearly take a step back terrified he lost it. Jack blanked out. He didn’t think at all. His hand was already moving for Garak’s throat by the time Bashir had tackled him because Bashir wasn’t as fast as him or as strong as him and if it wasn’t for Kelas asking him softly to please forgive it they’d see just how dangerous an augment that he was because no one including him hurts the family he went through hell to have. They used to tell him that he didn’t have empathy, that he was a monster incapable of understanding other people and he almost, almost believed them, but if Frankenstein’s creature wasn’t a monster, if Jack could weep silently, his head buried in Kelas’ lap when Kelas told him softly what Garak’s old iron monkey on his back, what his old man had done that had made him have that fear then he... no... no bad thoughts, not now. This is a Good place and a Good day and those thoughts are banished.

When Jack has that unconscious impulse now it’s to join in that raucous and he turns to Kelas, seeing him shaking the sand off the top of the long sleeveless tunic he’s wearing. meeting Jack’s eyes a moment.

“Splash,” Jack says in a rush and he catches those blue almost violet eyes widen in surprise and his mind would yell at him careful careful but he’s already moving with his hands on Kelas’ shoulders pushing him back to the sand. His mind corrects, his enhanced reflexes able to catch up with that recrimination that caution he’s pregnant he’s old he’s delicate he’s… laughing as Jack lands on top of him. Kelas is laughing loudly.

“Ah I should have known you were going to wait until the sand was gone. You always love getting me dirty!” He exclaims with a laugh as Jack in a rush of expelled nerves puts his face into Kelas’ neck sure he’s getting sand in his own hair now.

Kelas reminds him at least twice a day that he won’t hurt him- that he may be over a hundred but that doesn’t quite mean the same in their years and in any case their skeletons are more dense and durable. Sometimes he demonstrates it. Sometimes Jack even believes him. Jack turns his face about to say something to that but Kelas is already turning, kissing him silly, breathless, swearing at him in that melodic Northern tongue that’s like a slip of hisses, or angry snakes circling his ears.

“…sorry,” he says instinctively because sorry is what they always told him to say when he Did Something and he said it so much he used to like to see how much of a curse he could put behind those words.

“No you’re not,” Kelas mutters, trying not to smile, his hands sliding sandy, gritty over Jack’s sticky sweaty back holding him there on top before Jack can scramble off. “Mmm but that’s alright, I think your punishment should be to finish what you started.”

“Yadek has one baby you can’t give him one yet, Daddy!” he hears Jessie yelling at him and that only makes Kelas laugh even louder, the lines around his eyes crinkling, ridges flushing darker as he just… smiles up at Jack.

“Ah well… perhaps we’ll have to wait then,” Kelas says not moving his hands from Jack’s back in the slightest. His hands are strong, slightly calloused with the work that he does in the lab with Lauren now. He kneads at the muscles with determination and Jack feels like he might pool into goo dripping, soaking into the sand or into Kelas. That’s an idea- totally perfect idea.

“That right hm? No making new babies til this one’s done hm hm?”

“Can’t have two at once,” Jessie confirms terribly seriously. Jack smiles while Kelas keeps kneading at his back. Well, his little hatchling may have a numerical point but there’s always room for more practice because number three took so long it surely was because they hadn’t practiced enough and number four… ah impractical meandering illogical thoughts but-

“Maybe if we make you into an ovipositor... I bet Sarina could do it,” He hears Lauren’s voice and doesn’t ask how long she’s been standing there because Lauren is like the wind flitting in, out, hot, cold, but always there in some form. He doesn’t say that she’s like his sister but he hears their neighbors calling her that without correction and it’s strange but it’s Good and there’s a counter running for the first time someone called her his sister: three years two months five days four hours eighteen minutes thirty four seconds…

“An ovipositor? Ha! You couldn’t make a Kranessan fly hm!” The Kranessans, he learned were famed for their elaborate zip lines through the mountain passes.

“And you couldn’t make old Jala a rich woman if you tried,” she fires back with an arch of her eyebrow holding out her only to have Jessie and Kiss rush past her towards their house. She shrugs with a sigh. “I’ll see that they get to their lesson. Mr. Gok is teaching today and…” She pauses there, letting the old familiar rejoinder slip away unsaid. It’s become more of a small joke between them now.

There’s buzzing that Jack hears just then and he watches as a large dragonfly double wings gold, glistening in the sunlight as it hovers into the yard. Ah, right the little attendance drone, one of Patricks dozens of creations flying, beeping, walking around their compound. The newly elected council’s relaxed restrictions on sedition and unlawful assembly years back were what allowed him and Kelas to work tirelessly into one of the first communal living spaces outside of Central. There were more that had cropped up always monitored for radicals but as more sprang up, as more shared spaces came with their family dining halls and sand gardens and families sharing the grounds outside their modest homes, the more accepted they were.

Ah acceptable as Northerner and outcast refuse but there was no better refuse and no better life and Jack reaches up to sign off on the PADD the dragonfly is holding that Jessie and Kiss will be in class today outside with the other children. He snorts thinking of old Jala and older Gisha (and how Kelas always gets so hotly indignant when he calls them that saying they’re hardly older than he is) always hovering around chattering whenever he and Kelas make love. He’s heard them over stone walls, through fences, once catching their eyes with a curious blink before they waved him on and that… isn’t Normal, he thinks but he sometimes catches other couples or other triads outside their homes together in some partly secluded space with little mind paid. Sometimes he’ll hear a rattle of beads and he can always tell when Jala and Gisha are jabbering at each other about whether it’s better or worse for fertility if one is silent or loud. Jala thinks silent. Gisha thinks loud.

Kelas is always loud and Lauren says the two of them have a bet each time on which it will be.

Jala has yet to win once, and Lauren lets them know she has her data prepared whenever Kelas is ready to go over their new formulations for perfume tonics they’ve devised – fragrant and flavorful particles that confer different effects when “scented” from the air. Kelas looks thoughtful as he hooks an ankle around the small of Jack’s back, pushing that swollen belly up against him completely undoing him.

“Thirty minutes should be enough,” he hears Kelas say thinking sand is a challenge and rough and irritating and sand is nice beneath his bare feet but a cruel menace elsewhere and his hands are already beneath Kelas’ hip with a hurried murmur of “other leg other leg,” getting to his knees. Kelas wrapping around him like a beautiful pale vine, his hair half out of it braid, those glasses already mussed. Jack thinks he hears some impressed click from the other side of the wood fence marveling at his augmented strength.

He prefers to take it slow, to savor every touch, every press of Kelas’ mouth to his chest, every sigh, every push into Kelas’ body and Kelas into his too. Time is short, so short but the longer he can drag every perceived moment out, the closer to immortality in a beautiful vacuum where seconds aren’t ticks but instead Kelas’ breaths and slow steady beats of his heart. Ah, but now time is a rush and it always surprises him how excited his body is for Kelas in ways it is for nothing else.  Ah, the old women think they’ve seen strength? They haven’t seen anything, Jack holding that full weight with one arm now panting, quickly tugging himself free from trousers, from undergarments. Kelas is already whining as Jack starts biting his shoulder ridges hitching the hem of his tunic up with that free hand, Kelas squirming into position, a loud breathy cry when Jack enters him halfway, readjusts with both hands on his ass like he weighs nothing, driving right deep to his center.

And for that moment, time stops.

[papermoonloveslucy]

LUCY on I’VE GOT A SECRET

1956 - 1966

“I've Got a Secret” is a panel game show derived from “What's My Line?.” Instead of celebrity panelists trying to determine a contestant's occupation, the panel tries to determine a contestant's ‘secret’; something that is unusual, amazing, embarrassing, or humorous. The show premiered on June 19, 1952 on CBS and ran until April 3, 1967. It began broadcasting in black and white, switching to color in 1966. From 1952 to 1960 the show was done at CBS Studio 59, formerly the Mansfield Theatre, now the Brooks Atkinson.

When “I’ve Got A Secret” first went on the air it was an immediate disaster, in part because producers Goodson-Todman tried too hard to differentiate it from “What’s My Line?” It had an awkward courtroom set in which the panelists would interrogate contestants seated in a witness box. After the first broadcast, Goodson ordered the set scrapped and a new one built which would mirror the “What's My Line?” set. One of the show’s two sponsors canceled so for the remainder of the first season the show only aired every other week, alternating with “Racket Squad.”

The show was originally hosted by radio and television personality Garry Moore. After several months of an ever-changing panel, game show host Bill Cullen, acerbic comedian Henry Morgan, TV hostess Faye Emerson, and actress Jayne Meadows became the four regular panelists. In 1958, Emerson left the show to star in a play and was replaced by actress Betsy Palmer. Later that year, Meadows relocated to the West Coast and was replaced by former Miss America Bess Myerson. Other comedians and celebrities appeared as guests on the panel when others were away. The announcer for most of the run was John Cannon.

Moore left the show after the 1963–64 season. When his comedy program “The Garry Moore Show” was canceled by the network, Moore chose to retire from television to travel the world with his wife. He was replaced by Steve Allen, who left his own syndicated talk show to take over the game.  

A typical episode featured two regular contestant rounds followed by a celebrity guest round, occasionally followed by an additional regular round, if time permitted. “I've Got a Secret” was more informal than its sister show “What's My Line?” in most respects. The panel and host were generally on a first-name basis. The formal time limit on questioning was removed early in the show's run, and time limits were set more for entertainment. The men on the panel always wore informal suits or even sport jackets. The panel was introduced at the start of each episode by the host (as opposed to by each other, as on “What's My Line?”), sometimes with a series of descriptive puns, but generally without plugging their other projects.  

“I've Got a Secret,” along with “What's My Line?” and “To Tell the Truth,” were canceled in a mass axing of CBS's remaining panel shows in 1967; the shows were financially successful but were not drawing good ratings. Between 1952 and 1967, “I've Got a Secret” ranked among the top 30 television shows for ten out of fifteen seasons, peaking at #5 during the 1957–58 season. The show was nominated for three Emmy Awards during the 1950s.

The first theme music used on the show from 1952 to 1961 was "Plink, Plank, Plunk!" by Leroy Anderson. The second theme, used from 1961 to 1962, was an upbeat arrangement of the "Theme from A Summer Place" by Max Steiner. The third theme, used from 1962 to 1967, was an upbeat march composed by the show's musical director Norman Paris and played by a live studio combo.

February 8, 1956 at 9:30pm

Directed by Frank Satenstein

The program is sponsored by Winston cigarettes. Because of this, host Garry Moore smokes continually throughout the program. Those contestants who stump the panel win a carton of Winstons and a cash prize [$80 in 1956].

Garry Moore (Host) says that Faye Emerson is on vacation and that Lucille Ball will be taking her place that evening. Unbeknownst to him (supposedly) Lucille Ball shadows Moore on his entrance, making funny faces behind his back. When he turns to introduce her they come face to face and scream. Moore mentions that Lucy is there to promote her film Forever Darling.

John Cannon (Announcer)

The Panel (left to right)

Bill Cullen hosted 23 shows in his lifetime and earned the nickname "Dean of Game Show Hosts". Aside from his hosting duties, he also appeared as a panelist / guest on many other game shows, including “To Tell The Truth,” a sister show to “I've Got a Secret.”

Jayne Meadows was an actress who was also quite a popular game show panelist, often beside her husband Steve Allen, whom she wed two years before this telecast. In 1970 she appeared on an episode of “Here's Lucy” (S3;E16). She is sister to “Honeymooners” star Audrey Meadows, who appeared with as Lucille Ball's sister on an episode of “Life With Lucy” (1987).

Henry Morgan (not to be confused with actor Harry Morgan) was a frequent guest panelist on three of the most popular prime-time game shows in the 1950s and '60's: "I've Got a Secret," What's My Line," and "To Tell the Truth."

Lucille Ball (Guest Panelist). Two days earlier, “I Love Lucy” broadcast “The Fox Hunt” (S5;E16) for the first time, part of the Ricardos and Mertzes trip to Europe.  A few days after this appearance on “I've Got A Secret,” Ball returned to California to begin rehearsals for the classic episode “Lucy Gets a Paris Gown” (S5;E20), in which Lucy and Ethel are duped into wearing burlap bags as fashion. The episode was filmed on February 16, 1956 and aired a month later.

The Contestants

Bertha Pierce is from Olean, New York. Her secret is that she built the chairs that the panel is sitting on. Lucy is put on the spot when asked to go first. She notes that Olean is very close to her hometown of Jamestown. Lucy is startled by the buzzer of the timer. Jayne Meadows guesses the secret correctly.

Seymour J. Seymour is 96 years old and appears on the stage with a patch on his eye, using a cane. Moore says Seymour had a fall in the hotel the previous evening. His secret is that he saw John Wilkes Booth shoot President Lincoln on April 14, 1865. [Seymour passed away two months after the airing of the show.] At the time, Seymour was the last living witness to the shooting. Jayne Meadows guesses his secret and Moore gives Seymour the full prize of $80. Before the show, Seymour informed Moore  that he does not smoke cigarettes, so he is given a can of Prince Albert pipe tobacco instead. [In other instances, the sponsor was not so amenable. Both Groucho Marx and Ernie Kovacs wanted to smoke their trademark cigars on the show, but Winston forbade it. In the case of Groucho, they eventually relented.]

Desi Arnaz (Guest Contestant) is introduced by his wife, reading a script written by the show that comically goes on...and on... and on. The panel leaves the stage while Moore and Arnaz discuss Forever Darling, which opens the next day at the Loewe's State in NYC. [Lucy and Desi expected the film to open at Radio City Music Hall, just like their last MGM feature The Long, Long Trailer. But the Music Hall declined to premiere the film. They did not expect it to be a blockbuster, which it was not.]  Desi has planned to play a trick on his wife by telling everyone else on the panel his 'secret' and telling them to pass their turn to Lucy. Desi's secret is “I love Lucy.” When Bill Cullen disqualifies himself, Lucy is immediately suspicious. Lucy is totally confounded by being the only player and she and Desi devolve into good-natured husband and wife bickering. With a big smile of realization, Lucy finally gets it! Before they depart, Moore reads a wire from the Heart Fund, thanking Lucy and Desi for their time and energy on their behalf.

February 15, 1961 at 9:30pm

Directed by Franklin Heller

The program is sponsored by Bristol Myers' Bufferin. Doing a live pitch for the pain remedy, Garry Moore says that an in-store display features a mirror in which his face appears. The associate sponsor was Clairol.

The show begins with a cold open of Lucille Ball talking to the viewers: “My name is Lucille Ball and I've got a secret.”

Garry Moore (Host) notes that Bill Cullen is on vacation and introduces the panel, staring with Cullen's replacement, Johnny Carson.

John Cannon (Announcer)

The Panel (left to right)

Johnny Carson (Guest Panelist) did a dozen episodes of the game before assuming the hosting duties of “The Tonight Show” in October 1962. He played himself on a 1969 episode of “Here's Lucy” (S2;E11).  Ball made many appearances on “The Tonight Show” during his tenure.  

Betsy Palmer was an actress equally at home on Broadway, film and TV.  She became known for her many appearances in regional theatre, particularly at New Jersey's Paper Mill Playhouse. Later in her career she became famous for her role in the 1980 horror film Friday the 13th.

Henry Morgan (not to be confused with actor Harry Morgan) was a frequent guest panelist on three of the most popular prime-time game shows in the 1950s and '60's: "I've Got a Secret," What's My Line," and "To Tell the Truth."

Bess Myerson was a former Miss American (1945). She was the pageant's first and only Jewish winner. Myerson was a panelist and talk show guest on many television programs.

The Contestants

The Smith Family – four children from Kenmore New York (Herman, Theresa, Mary Margaret, and Ralph) are introduced by Moore. Their secret is that they each have a twin backstage. The Smith Family consists of 13 children.  Henry Morgan guesses the secret. Moore says the odds of such a thing happening are 40 million to one!

Pat Patterson from Washington DC sailed from there to Jacksonville, Florida... in a paper boat made of water-proof cardboard and wood supports. The trip took him six weeks. Patterson is a corrugated box manufacturer. The boat itself is on the stage. Moore is a boating enthusiast.

The panel is sent offstage while Moore introduces a filmed Clairol commercial: “Only her hairdresser knows for sure.” He then introduces Lucille Ball.  

Lucille Ball (Guest) was then starring on Broadway in the new musical Wildcat, her only Broadway credit. Moore tells Lucy that her secret will be to get the panel to imitate her. The panel returns for the questioning. The word “EXCITED” appears on the screen to prompt Lucy. While Betsy Palmer is talking, the word turns to “HAPPY” and Lucy laughs out loud continually. The questioning turns to Henry Morgan and the word turns to “DIGNIFIED” then to “SAD” - Lucy reacts accordingly. During Bess Myerson's turn the word is “NERVOUS”.  During Carson's turn, the word is “ROMANTIC” and then “TIPSY.”  They play out the whole game even though someone gets it early. Moore later confesses that (for the first time ever) he cheated in order not to spoil the fun.  

In closing, there is an extended filmed commercial for next week's sponsor, Winston Cigarettes. The announcer also reminds viewers that Bristol Myers also sponsors “Candid Camera” (consult your local listings).  

March 8, 1965 at 8:00pm

Directed by Paul Alter

The program is sponsored by Toni Home Permanent.

Steve Allen (Host) was a humorist who starred in his own television show on another network five nights a week. More than thirty years later, Allen would guest star as himself on “Lucy Calls the President” (1977). Allen tells viewers that half the panel is on vacationing so his ‘better half’ (Jayne Meadows) and Lucy's ‘better half’ Gary Morton will be sitting in for the absent Bill Cullen and Bess Myerson.

John Cannon (Announcer) 

The Panel (left to right)

Henry Morgan (not to be confused with actor Harry Morgan) was a frequent guest panelist on three of the most popular prime-time game shows in the 1950s and '60's: "I've Got a Secret," What's My Line," and "To Tell the Truth."

Jayne Meadows was an actress who was also quite a popular game show panelist, often beside her husband Steve Allen, whom she wed two years before this telecast. In 1970 she appeared on an episode of “Here's Lucy” (S3;E16). She is sister to “Honeymooners” star Audrey Meadows, who appeared with as Lucille Ball's sister on an episode of “Life With Lucy” (1987).

Gary Morton was a comedian who wed Lucille Ball in 1961. He acted as Producer on “The Lucy Show” as well as making occasional on-camera appearances and doing voice-overs.

Betsy Palmer was an actress equally at home on Broadway, film and TV. She became known for her many appearances in regional theatre, particularly at New Jersey's Paper Mill Playhouse. Later in her career she became famous for her role in the 1980 horror film Friday the 13th.

The Contestants

Marie Rhodes from Los Angeles is Marlon Brando's stand-in. Betsy Palmer guesses her secret. Her husband is his make-up man. She started on Mutiny on the Bounty, in order that she could be with her husband in Tahiti for the year it took to make the film. The most recent film where she stood in for Brando was Morituri, which she says will be released soon. Rhodes has also stood in for many other stars: Anna Magnani, Ben Grauer, Carol Williams, Judith Anderson, Patricia Owens, and others. Steve Allen is fixated on Ben Grauer.

Four Lieutenants in the US Armed Forces: Joe Amlong (Air Force), Billy Mills (Marines), William Stowe (Navy), and Lones Wigger Jr. (Army) enter. Allen declines to give their names at first. Their secret is that each has won a gold medal in the 1964 Olympics in Tokyo.

Lucille Ball (Guest) was then finishing her third season of “The Lucy Show.”  At 9pm that evening, CBS broadcast “Lucy and Arthur Godfrey” (TLS S3;E23). The evening before, Lucy had appeared on “What's My Line?” She is introduced as the National Chairman for the Easter Seals campaign. 

Before the show, questions were solicited for Lucille Ball. The panel is asked to answer as if they were Lucy. Lucy gives her response as well. 

“Are you temperamental?”  Henry Morgan says yes, but Lucy says no, but that she has flare-ups after long periods of frustration.  

“Are you a natural redhead?”  Jayne Meadows (also a bottle red head) and Lucy both say “of course!” 

“Who has the final say at home?”  Gary naturally says Lucy.  Lucy says the only thing she has the final say on is whether the windows stay open or closed at night.  

“Are you inherently witty or do you have to have a script?”  Betsy Palmer tactfully replies that Lucy is inherently witty but that a good script helps. Lucy says she is not witty, and that she doesn't “think funny.”  

“What is it like to be a millionaire?”  Lucy seriously says she is not a millionaire, which Henry Morgan doubts. Lucy says that all her money goes into her business [Desilu Studios].  

“Do you do your own cooking?”  Jayne Meadows says that Lucy doesn't cook. Lucy says she can cook, but doesn't have time and often let's her husband Gary plan the meals. Gary adds that Lucy makes meatballs that taste like hockey pucks.  

“Are you as funny offstage as you are on?” Gary Morton says that Lucy doesn't think she's funny – but she is.  

“Why do you work so hard?”  Jayne Meadows and Lucy agree that she works so hard because she loves it.  She mentions “The Lucy Show.”  

The program ends with the women sitting on the mens’ laps, even Henry and Betsy, the only two that are not husband and wife. Allen says that the young people will be pleased to know that next week Neil Sedaka will be the guest. As the final credits roll, the network announcer promotes “The Lucy Show” guest starring Arthur Godfrey coming up in a half hour's time.

Two weeks later Vivian Vance appeared on the “I’ve Got a Secret” (guest hosted by Steve Allen). Vivian purposely talked very fast because her ‘secret’ was that everything they said was being written down in short-hand backstage. 

October 17, 1966 at 10:30pm

Directed by Paul Alter

The color telecast was sponsored by Westinghouse. [Note: No color prints were available for preview, so the photographs are in black and white.] The show is sponsored by Lucky Strike cigarettes. [Ironically, during the early years of “I Love Lucy” the show was sponsored by Philip Morris and the writers were prohibited from using the word “lucky.”]  

Steve Allen (Host) was a humorist who starred in his own television show on another network five nights a week. More than thirty years later, Allen would guest star as himself on “Lucy Calls the President” (1977).

The Panel (left to right)

Betsy Palmer was an actress equally at home on Broadway, film and TV.  She became known for her many appearances in regional theatre, particularly at New Jersey's Paper Mill Playhouse. Later in her career she became famous for her role in the 1980 horror film Friday the 13th. Steve Allen introduces her as starring in Cactus Flower on Broadway.

Henry Morgan (not to be confused with actor Harry Morgan) was a frequent guest panelist on three of the most popular prime-time game shows in the 1950s and '60's: "I've Got a Secret," What's My Line," and "To Tell the Truth."

Bess Myerson was a former Miss American (1945).  She was the pageant's first and only Jewish winner. Myerson was a panelist and talk show guest on many television programs. Steve Allen reminds the viewers that she can also be seen on “Candid Camera.”  

Bill Cullen hosted 23 shows in his lifetime and earned the nickname "Dean of Game Show Hosts." Aside from his hosting duties, he also appeared as a panelist / guest on many other game shows, including “To Tell The Truth,” a sister show to “I've Got a Secret.”

The Contestants

Rufus Harley (Contestant) is at first identified only as ‘Mr. X’. His secret is that he is a jazz musician who plays the bagpipes. No one guesses his secret. Harley also appeared on “To Tell the Truth” and in 1968 appeared on syndicated "What's My Line?" during its first week. He released two albums on Atlantic and plays “Feelin' Good” with his Jazz combo on the show. Fittingly, the background is a tartan plaid!

Howard Goodrich and his dog Fritz (Contestant) whose secret is that both he and his dog are wearing contact lenses. Henry Morgan asks Mr. Goodrich if HE has a tail.  No one guesses the secret.

Lucille Ball (Guest). Earlier in the evening, CBS broadcast “Lucy Flies To London” (S5;E6) which was “The Lucy Show's” set-up for the following week's location-filmed special “Lucy in London.” Lucy promotes the special talking about her love for London, especially Carnaby Street, and the mod fashions. 

To see if American people have taken to these garments, the show has given 100 audience members voting buttons to express their opinions. Three fashion models come out, while Lucy describes their outfits. [Despite the show being broadcast in color, Lucy still describes the vivid colors of the clothing, aware that not all viewers will be watching on a color television.]  

Before asking the audience to vote, Steve Allen asks Lucy if she likes them. Lucy hesitates, but says “On some very young people, at some very special places, for a very short time.” Before finding out the result of the audience vote, Lucy guesses that just 35% of the audience will like them. The panel guesses that probably only 15% to 35% will. Allen surprisingly reveals that only 7% of the studio audience likes the mod fashions. [The clothing was supplied by Lord and Taylor.]

The second poll asks the female audience which of the three looks the audience favors. Lucy thinks 'B' will be the most popular, Betsy says 'A', Bill and Bess says 'C' and Henry agrees with Lucy that it is 'B'.  The results show that 54% of the women liked 'A' – the pant suit; 10% prefer 'B' – the mini skirt; and 36% liked 'C' – the vinyl look.  

The men are then polled and Lucy and the panel stick with their previous selections. Steve Allen likes 'C'. 54% of men liked 'C'; 40% liked 'A'; and only 6% chose 'B'.  

Lucy asks a totally different question of the men; would their wives chose a brand new kitchen or a fur coat. Lucy says that 95% will go for the kitchen. The result says that 54% said their wives would want a new kitchen. Lucy says that if the women were asked, they would chose the kitchen.  

[chanzicoup]

Summary: The shyest kid in town meets with the new girl in his family’s bakery. Who knew this would spark a chain reaction?

A/N: This is a sneak peak to a novella I am currently writing. I got the idea for this by watching the movie called “The Longest Ride” and I can not stress this enough, IT IS SUCH A GOOD MOVIE GUYS PLEASE JUST SHUSH AND WATCH IT

Genre: Fluff/Romance

Count: 2.12k

Warning: None

~Blake

He remembers the day she walked into his life, which was coincidentally the day she walked into his family’s bakery for the first time. He was kneading a ball of bread to be portioned and baked later when the yeast has risen. She was gorgeous, but that wasn’t what caught Johnny’s eyes, it was the fact that she held the door open for an elderly woman who was trailing right behind her. Such kindness was not something he had seen in a while outside of his mother and father. He was an only child who was homeschooled from childhood and all throughout high school.

This was the winter before his freshman year at college, his last winter and a senior in high school, and he was spending as much of it as he could at home, he was nervous to start on the first day with all of the other students his age, who were so lucky not to have his fear. It wasn’t much a fear of connection, but a preference of isolation and obsession of personal space, the only people he talks to is his parents and customers who walked in only to walk out minutes later with their order in their hands. His mother, babying her only child since he was such a thing, was negotiated with and was convinced to let him attend a year late, how he got her to agree with his idiotic idea, he didn’t know; but his claim of the bakery needing workers might have sealed the deal. He has a feeling his father would assert his power and force him to go on time any way, better to hope than forfeit.

He was the only one in today, since his parents went out to buy supplies. It had been a slow day, anyone who came in ordered from the window, so their food was already prepared for them to take. Johnny dusted his hands off and went to the register, where the old woman stood with the younger woman behind her. Perhaps they are related?

“Good morning ma'am. How can I help you today?” Johnny asked politely, as he always does. Despite his manners, he spoke softly and the woman hardly heard him but began ordering anyway.

“Two loaves of Italian bread, sonny. And three blueberry muffins, please.” She was a regular at the bakery, she came in at least once a week and ordered the same things and has been since before Johnny was born. She’s called him sonny since day one even when she can read his name tag and see what his name was. She also always had exact change, of course she would if she’s been getting the same things for as long as she has. If her mind is wearing away with age, she certainly doesn’t show it. What she did with all those loaves and muffins, no one knew, but it was no one else’s business. She was a nice woman, but mysterious. She never told anyone at the bakery her name, which was a weird though in his opinion, but he ignored the fact and went along with his day. Johnny had the breads and muffins ready, anticipating her arrival, and even put it in  a tote bag like he did when no one else was looking. Those bags were 99 cents each and his parents would fuss if he saw their son give one away for free.

“Good boy. I’ll be back next week!” She sang and skipped to the door. That woman loves her bread and muffins.

Up next is the pretty girl Johnny suddenly lost the words to talk too. Just now he notices how perfect she is, even with her imperfections. He makes sure not to stare too long and manages to choke out the serviceman’s phrase, “How can I help you today?” He thinks he did it by not staring directly at her. if he did he would hold his gaze into her eyes too strongly and it would make the situation more awkward.

“This may be embarrassing, but I honestly don’t know what I want. I just moved here and I haven’t had any of this before. What would you recommend?” She questioned. Johnny saw that her navy blue petticoat had dusts of snow on her shoulders. He had forgotten it was going to snow badly this week, poor girl is probably freezing. But how could she not know what she wants? Johnny would have his order picked out before he steps foot in an establishment, but if the truth was being told, he’d ask his mother to order for him.

“Welcome to Athol, be careful, if you say that with a lisp you’ll be scolded.” She must’ve liked his joke, because it made her chuckle and roll her eyes. It wasn’t his best dad joke, but something people don’t know about him is that he has quite a lot of them. “I was about to put bread in the oven.” He suggests without action, suddenly feeling dumb.

What if she wasn’t rolling her eyes playfully, but in annoyance? Johnny feels as if he should’ve given her some fresh baked cookies that he made this morning and she would’ve been on her way. Yet the thought of her leaving as fast as she came made Johnny slump his shoulders.

"That sounds nice, thank you very much! Can I wait for it to bake in here? I hate to admit it, but I’m looking for something to do…” she pauses too read his name tag. “John.”

Her lips turned up to a smile as his name rolls off her tongue. No one says his real name but his father. Everyone and his mother say “Johnny” his mom says it sounds cute. His likes it better than “John” it is more relaxed and less demanding sounding. His father’s name is the same, which was why he never called his son by anything else other than “my boy”. It would be a form of self-degradation.

“Would you like a drink?” Johnny questions quietly. The girl, whom he does not know the name of, nods quite cutely. “What is your name?” He does this to all the customers so he can make sure that what they ordered belongs to them and write their names on the cup. Since there is only one he had no need to do that, but he just wanted an excuse to get her name. If he was feeling flamboyant, he’d write his number on the cup as well. Too bad Johnny has never come close to feeling flamboyant in his life.

“I’m Heidi. I just moved here from Shades Run.” She has another quirk Johnny sees, she tucks her hair behind her ear when it’s not in her face. It’s too short to be in the way. Her hair resides just below her ears, flaring up in a slight curl in all of it’s dirty blonde glory. “And I’m going to need another recommendation for the drink.” She acts as if she has reason to be embarrassed, Johnny can hear her talk for hours if she wanted to.

“I was just about to start a pot of coffee. Would you like a cup?” He holds two of the bakery’s branded cups, which are small compared to the size of his dough boy hands. Spending your whole life in a bakery takes a toll on your entire body, but most effectively, your hands. It means you’re doing hard work, and hard work means a good spirit.

“Okay, I’ll have one. Thank you!” She says thank you more often than most of the usual customers, maybe she’s still adjusting to her new life? Now that he thought about it, customers expressed their gratitude every so often. Not everyone has enough manners to do so. But whatever the reason is for her abundance of gratefulness, it nonetheless has Johnny turning towards the coffee machine and blushing while biting his lips to hide the giddy grin he’s bursting.

While the cups fill, Johnny hurries to the back and puts risen bread in the industrial oven, setting a timer for twenty minutes as his father taught him. He comes back and sees Heidi reading a book and the coffee pot filled and secured in its’ warmer. He pours them into mugs and adds the cream, a little extra cream for her since she seems like  creamer girl. He puts the finishing touches on, those being the whipped cream and a cinnamon stick. Some people don’t like all the spice, so just in case she was one of those he put her stick to the side so she could add it if she wanted to.

He stands up straight, as if he’s a waiter at a five star restaurant and stacks the cups on a silver tray that’s only used when there’s company. Look at Johnny breaking the rules. He’s no bad boy, this is obvious when he gives her the coffee with cinnamon on the side and he rushes back to the counter, again his heart raced at the thought at sitting with her to sip his own coffee. Instead, he does it while leaning on the counter and glancing at her every few seconds. His confidence washed away like waves on the beach. So close to the castle, but pulled back with the tides at the very last possible moment. Just before the typhoon kills the civilians in their sand houses.

“You can sit here if you’d like. I don’t bite.” She chides after adding her cinnamon stick. Johnny scurries over and sits in front of her, remembering to grab his drink from off the counter. Yes, he had nearly forgotten his drink on his coffee break.

“So, John,” Heidi starts. “What do you do other than work here?”

“There really isn’t much to tell.” Johnny says, nervously tapping his finger and bouncing his knee. He tried to have his knee match the pace of the tics and toks of the clock, but that was too slow for him and only made his anxiety worse with the sudden time crunch/

“Tell me anyway, even if there is genuinely not much to tell.” Heidi puts the book away and rests her head on her hand propped up on her elbow. Where should Johnny start? He told her about being homeschooled, and she asked what it was like.

“It was nice. Staying home and doing whatever I wanted. I had a sweet tutor who taught me at my own speed.”

He then talked about the bakery, as if she hadn’t already known he’d worked there. She asked what it was like.

“Growing up here was a lot. It’s just my parents here, no other workers. I try to help when I can.”

In her head, Heidi was squealing in delight, a handsome baker who adores his family. And he’s such a gentleman and he listens! Finally, she has a friend. She could hear him talk for hours. Hopefully she wasn’t being too pushy. What if he’s cursing her out internally and only entertaining her to be polite? It wouldn’t have been the first time someone acted nice to her only to push her away later on. The sudden urge to peck her lips drove Johnny mad. How could he want to kiss a stranger? In all seriousness, why is he talking so tentatively to said stranger?

“What’s your story?” He sits back and crosses his arms, interested in his newfound friend. Totally not wanting to talk and much rather yearning to listen. He had nothing else to discuss. No one had socialized with him so there weren’t any stories of him being an idiot with the kids down the load and hanging out at Jos’ house on Tuesdays because that was taco night and Mrs. Violet makes the best tacos.

“My story is more of a novella, a lot packed into a short amount of time. My father and I moved here so he could find a better job. My mom left when I was a baby so it was just us. I’m in the middle of my senior year, but since I moved I’m going to be attending Athol High in the middle of the semester.” He never stopped her to tell her to elaborate, or to ask what something was like. He just listened to her stories with a gleam in his eye.

“I’m sorry, I’m talking too much.” She looks down at her lap and pulls her smile into a frown.

“Don’t worry, I love hearing you talk.”

Did he really just say that?

Is she smiling again?

Are they both blushing?

The answer to all of the above is, respectively: Yup, surprisingly, and oh yeah they are.

[mearnsblog]

“Make Mine Music” (1946)

Two of the next three Disney movies are actually compilations of several animated segments. It’s kind of like “Fantasia,” but not all of them are musical, and none are nearly as well-remembered. The first of them, “Make Mine Music” was actually quite difficult to find. It’s the only fully-animated feature to not be on Disney+, so we had to get creative.

Ultimately, we ended up tracking it down. As a package, it doesn’t really work, though I did like some of the segments (almost all of which can be found on YouTube). The best way to look back on this movie is going piece by piece. So now, some quick thoughts on each:

The Great

1. "Peter and the Wolf” - This is an all-timer, if not only for music education purposes. It’s narrated by the voice of Winnie the Pooh, adding some humor to the travels of young Peter, and I love that each character has designated instrumental themes. Never has a French horn sounded more intimidating than when accompanied by a wolf on the hunt. Also: shout-out to the oboe/duck combo. It’s delightful.

The Good

2. “Casey at the Bat” - I deeply enjoy this, but I also learned to probably works better if you’re at least somewhat familiar with the source material. Ali had never heard of the original poem, so it might not be as fun to watch when you’re trying to track the story of the poem while all the extra cartoon stuff is going on. (Try this version narrated by the legendary James Earl Jones!) At points, it can be hard to distinguish between which is part of the poem and which is just a flourish. All the same, I love the story and the Disney version.

3. “The Whale Who Wanted to Song at the Met” - This is so truly bizarre in all the best ways. Somehow, the title is exactly what it is. It’s surreal, and when Disney leans all-in on weird, it can produce some damn entertaining results. Just go watch it.

4. “After You’ve Gone” - Don’t be fooled by the seemingly depressing title. It’s a breezy Benny Goodman interstitial that shows instruments dancing around in various shapes and sizes. It’s over in just a few minutes and worth your time.

The Decent

5. “Two Silhouettes” - Another short segment that has some neat old rotoscoping technology to track two ballet dancers in -- shockingly -- silhouettes. It works! Plus, Dinah Shore’s voice is lovely.

6.  “Johnny Fedora and Alice Blue Bonnet” - This is a cute little love story about two hats in the display window of a store in the city. It’s likely be a tad more engaging for little kids than adults or even older children, so it loses marks there, but it ends in a tidy happily ever after. HATS OFF! (I should log off now.)

7. “Blue Bayou” - The definition of “fine.” It’s two herons swimming through the Everglades in an abandoned “Fantasia” animation that was originally set to a different song. This leads off the American version of “Make Mine Music,” which is probably a mistake since it’s so slow. “After You’ve Gone” would’ve been snappier and more attention-grabbing.

The Bad

8. “Without You” - If I wanted to watch vague nothingness set to some bummer music, I’d just put on some Bread with the Windows Media Player visualizer. The guy’s a fine singer, but this is just a snooze.

9. “All the Cats Join In” - ‘50s romps can be fun! I love “Rock This Town” by The Stray Cats. Alas, they are better cats than the cats shown in this short (another Benny Goodman number), who are just dancing teens. I would’ve preferred actual cats. The song is not Goodman’s best, and the kids are annoying. (There’s also a bit where one guy won’t dance with a girl because her butt is too big?? Then the artist “fixes” it. Neat. Cool.) Get off my lawn, I guess.

10. “The Martins and the Coys” - The original opener for “Make Mine Music,” which was later removed from American releases. That was wise because this sucks. I’m not a huge fan of group folk music storytelling anyway, and choosing to make a cartoon based on the long feud between the Hatfields and the McCoys is a bad choice. It ends with the last two living members falling in love and getting married, only to fight endlessly in their marriage. And yes, I mean literally fighting, too. Great.

So yeah, just Google around to watch the first few of these “Make Mine Music” segments. “Peter and the Wolf” is worth a rewatch, at the very least. Long live the French horn.

Updated ranking

1. “Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs” (review) 2. “Fantasia” (review) 3. “Pinocchio” (review) 4. “Bambi” (review) 5. “Dumbo” (review) 6. “The Three Caballeros” (review) 7. “Make Mine Music” 8. “Saludos Amigos” (review)

[junker-town]

A.J. Hinch is the latest pennant winner who won’t manage the MLB All-Star Game

A history of All-Star Game managerial upheaval.

The 2020 MLB All-Star Game will be played at Dodger Stadium on July 14. Dave Martinez of the champion Nationals will manage the National League All-Stars. What we don’t know yet is who will manage the American League.

The midsummer classic traditionally puts the prior season’s pennant-winning managers in charge, but the defending AL champion Astros are without a manager at the moment after A.J. Hinch was suspended by Major League Baseball for the season, then fired for allowing a widespread electronic sign-stealing scheme to take place under his watch.

While it may seem logical that the Astros’ next managerial hire will step in for Hinch, replacing an All-Star Game manager is not that simple. To understand what goes into the decision, we must delve into the game’s history.

The first All-Star Game

We were still 64 years away from interleague play in 1933, when the American League and National League would only square off once a year, in the World Series. But that was between just two teams. The thought of corralling the best (white) players in baseball for one game was an intoxicating idea at the time, so much so that this was the headline in The Sporting News in advance of the game:

Headline regarding the first MLB All-Star Game from The Sporting News on July 6, 1933.

But instead of tabbing the managers of the previous World Series between the Yankees and Cubs, the All-Star Game pit the Giants’ John McGraw for the National League against the A’s Connie Mack for the American League. Heading into 1933, they were the two winningest managers in baseball history, each with 1,000 more victories than any other manager at the time, and they are still the top two in managerial wins to this day. McGraw and Mack would be facing off for the fourth time, having met in three World Series more than two decades prior.

McGraw actually retired midway through the 1932 season, but was brought back for the exhibition. Mack, who also owned the A’s, would manage for 17 more seasons to finish with an unfathomable 53 years working as a manager.

After that first All-Star game, however, the tradition of selecting the managers of the previous year’s World Series began. In 1934, Joe Cronin of the Senators faced off against Bill Terry of the Giants, a managerial rematch of the 1933 World Series.

Since then, there have been just 11 instances in which a pennant winner from the previous year didn’t manage the next All-Star team.

(There are three instances of a pennant-winning manager who was no longer with that team getting to manage the All-Stars anyway. Dick Williams won the World Series with the A’s in 1973 but was fired. He managed the 1974 All-Star Game while representing the Angels. In 2003, Dusty Baker wore a Cubs uniform while managing the NL All-Stars after winning a pennant with the Giants. Tony LaRussa retired after winning the 2011 World Series with the Cardinals, but returned to the dugout for the All-Star Game in Kansas City.)

For the most part, these All-Star managerial oddities fall into two camps — the same team sending a different manager than the previous year’s pennant winner, or a manager from a different team altogether.

Brooklyn Dodgers manager Leo Durocher was suspended for the 1947 season for “association with known gamblers,” and Burt Shotton guided Brooklyn to the NL pennant. But with Durocher back in the manager seat in 1948, he managed the National League All-Stars in St. Louis.

Another Dodgers managerial switch happened after the 1953 season, when reigning pennant winner Chuck Dressen left Brooklyn after a contract dispute. Walt Alston took the reins in 1954, and managed the NL All-Star team.

Casey Stengel was fired by the Yankees after having the audacity to lose the 1960 World Series, so his replacement Ralph Houk managed the AL All-Stars as well. Stengel won 10 pennants and seven championships in his 12 seasons in The Bronx, and his nine All-Star Games managed is a record.

Indians manager Terry Francona was recovering from heart surgery in 2017, so his bench coach Brad Mills piloted the American League All-Stars in Miami.

All of these instances involve the previous season’s pennant runner-up filling in as manager for the reigning winner.

Mickey Cochrane won the World Series in 1935 as player-manager of the Tigers, but missed six weeks in the middle of the 1936 season after a nervous breakdown. Taking his place was Joe McCarthy of the Yankees. McCarthy won four straight World Series with the Yankees from 1936-39 and managed four straight midsummer classics, but he took the All-Star break off in 1940, leaving duties to Joe Cronin of the Red Sox.

Al Lopez of the White Sox got to manage the AL All-Stars in both 1964 and 1965, despite not winning pennants in either of the two preceding seasons. Houk had to step aside from All-Star duties after being promoted to general manager by the Yankees after the 1963 season. And after 1964, Yogi Berra was fired by New York after losing the World Series.

“I would be proud and pleased to have any of our present 10 managers fill in for Houk, but I feel that Lopez earned the honor through his fine job last season,” AL president Joe Cronin said in 1964. (1)

All-Star Game decisions were the purview of league presidents back then, but come from the commissioner’s office now.

The 1965 All-Star Game is especially notable because both managers from the 1964 World Series were canned. Johnny Keane was let go by the Cardinals, so Gene Mauch of the Phillies stepped in to manage the NL All-Stars.

A merry-go-round in New York

You might have noticed a couple names appearing in both lists of All-Star managerial maneuvering. Billy Martin and Bob Lemon took turns for a few years managing the Yankees, each taking over for the other at some point. In the process, each replaced the other in an All-Star Game.

The tumult began on Sunday, July 23, 1978, when Martin was managing the Yankees after a championship and two pennants in the two years prior. At the time, he was once again feuding with outfielder Reggie Jackson. As the Yankees were waiting to board a plane to Kansas City from O’Hare Airport after a series again the White Sox, the cantankerous Martin groused to reporters about his star player and his bombastic owner, George Steinbrenner.

“The two men deserve each other,” Martin said. “One’s a born liar, the other’s convicted.”

As it turned out, referencing his boss’s 1974 conviction for illegal campaign contributions was not the best job-keeping technique, and on Monday, Martin resigned.

Amazingly, a mere five days after his resignation, Martin was introduced at the Yankees’ Old-Timers’ Day. And during the introduction, legendary Yankee Stadium announcer Bob Sheppard revealed that Martin would be back to manage the team in 1980. Martin’s Yankees tenure was as glorious as it was intermittent. He won more than 59 percent of his games in New York, including a championship among two World Series berths. But the eight seasons he managed the Yankees were spread across 14 years, and he resigned or was fired five different times, including once for fighting with a marshmallow salesman.

All Lemon did in 1978 was lead the Yankees to a historic divisional comeback to catch Boston, followed by a second straight World Series for New York. But a slow start in 1979 led to Lemon’s dismissal on June 17.

His replacement was Martin, his promised 1980 return hastened under the circumstances.

Lemon by this point had a stellar baseball resumé. He pitched in two World Series with the Indians, winning one, and was named an All-Star seven times before being inducted into the Hall of Fame as a player in 1976. As a manager, he won 85 games in the Royals’ third season, making them the fastest expansion team to post a winning record. Lemon also won 90 games with the White Sox in 1977 before winning a World Series in New York one year later.

Even though the 1979 All-Star Game took place a month after he was fired, Lemon got to manage the American League as the reigning pennant winner.

“I’ve done everything else,” Lemon said in 1979. “That’s the one thing left to cap off my career.” (2)

Lemon got a second tenure with the Yankees, managing the final 25 games of a strike-shortened 1981 season, then led New York to its fourth pennant in a six-year stretch. This tenure was short lived, however, as Steinbrenner canned Lemon just 14 games into the 1982 season.

This time, it wasn’t the reigning pennant winner Lemon who got to manage the AL All-Stars, but Martin, whose A’s lost to the Yankees in the previous season’s ALCS.

In that four-year span, Martin and Lemon combined for four different managing stints with the Yankees, and they each managed one All-Star Game.

What now?

With Hinch fired in Houston and suspended for the season, he won’t manage the American League All-Stars this July in Los Angeles. No matter whether his replacement is the yet-to-be-named manager of the Astros, or Aaron Boone of the 2019 ALCS runner-up Yankees, there’s a precedent.

The Sporting News, June 20, 1964

Phil Pepe, Lemon Steps Down With Dignity, Class, The Sporting News, July 7, 1979

[purkinje-effect]

The Anatomy of Melancholy, 72: Parking Spot

Table of Contents. Third Instar, Chapter 3. Go to previous. Go to next. TWs: Chems as medication, misgendering.

Everything has its place, even in a shell game.

____________________________

'Choly wrapped Sticks’s wounded arm in a clean dish rag, then administered a Med-X to his deltoid.

“I’m grateful it doesn’t look like I have to test my memory with applying stitches. Angel, you said we’ve got two Addictol left? We both could use it.”

“I’ve been waiting for you to ask, Sir!”

The Mister Handy produced the two red ampules from its back storage and held one out for each of them. ‘Choly took it promptly and exhaled completely, depressed the actuator to empty the whole thing into his lungs, and held it for sixty seconds, counting with his Pip-Boy’s clock. Sticks glanced at it, but didn’t take it.

“I thought X-Cell chems didn’t have curable withdrawals.” The uncertainty rumbled in his quiet, gravelly voice.

The timer wasn’t up just yet. ‘Choly swatted at him dizzily. With a hard exhale, and several modulating breaths, he sighed.

“This is for your Jet Fuel bender. You really shouldn’t have been operating heavy machinery. It’s a wonder you didn’t crash the car on the way here.” ‘Choly smiled when Sticks took his ampule from Angel. He instructed him how to use it. “I took one myself for a few reasons. One, I hadn’t bothered after the chem cocktail I relied on to push through the Battle for Lowell. And two, I was... kind of hoping whatever Olivia gave me that night would get scrubbed out in the process.”

He watched his health diagnostics screen in anticipation of its next refresh. The chemical dependencies all but evaporated. He patted at his Pip-Boy. Of course all the collagen issues would remain. He didn’t expect any easy fixes for the symptoms he presumed tied into the cryogenic damage done by Vault-Tec, nor did he expect it to be so simple to shoulder off the X²-Cell side effects that exacerbated them. But at least, he could set down his withdrawals in favor a little greater faculties. Maybe he could make a better first impression with the mall denizens this way.

He handed the ampules to Angel to store for later reuse.

“One other thing, Angel. Could each of us have a Mentat?”

“One for the doc, one for the patient,” Sticks jabbed, a little too sharply, as he chewed at the lozenge Angel had given him. “You’re sure not shy to spread around the chems the first chance you get.”

“Consider the attention an apology for getting you bitten up in the first place. I’m just following the suggestions your Pip-Boy has made. Its diagnostics are incredibly intuitive. I’m rapt to know what else it can do.”

“Starting to understand that this thing isn’t just some dinky Sugar Bomb toy, huh?”

‘Choly stood from where he’d sat in the floorboard, and rounded to the front of the car to survey the trunk. His Mentat dissolved slowly under his tongue.

“Don’t try to justify what you did in Lowell.”

“Don’t try to justify what you did in Lowell, either. You getting high and mighty with me just because you have a two hundred year old medical degree?”

‘Choly’s ears burned. Low hanging fruit.

Sticks got out of the car to toss his bloodied clothes into the trunk. He rummaged through his clothes, and changed into his Glenn Johnny’s uniform. He fished out the ushanka and put it on, too.

“If you’re not going to wear it, I am,” Sticks harrumphed, finishing tying off his apron.

“...Are you sure everything’s going to be all right in the car?”

“No one knows how to hot wire a car. They don’t even use light switches here. And I doubt anyone’s gonna have the nerve to touch a functioning vehicle.” He wrapped a firm, reassuring arm around ‘Choly’s shoulder, and ‘Choly let him. “I meant it when I said you need to leave everything you can in the car. Check-in sees so many people that, even if they didn’t keep what they want to, it totally makes sense for things to just end up lost. You don’t want to lose your fancy pistol, do you?”

“Just... how thoroughly do they shake you out.” He put a hand on the handle of Tryasovitsy.

“You’re not the least bit sneaky enough to get holdouts past check-in, Mindy. You’re doing well to keep your walking cane with you.”

“They wouldn’t dare.”

“I won’t allow it. Honestly, you call Angel your wheelchair, and they’d rip that from you in a heartbeat. But don’t worry about that much. Now, what I’m more worried about is how suspicious it’s going to look for us to show up unarmed. You’ve got those two other pistols. We’re toting those in. Consider them an offering. Maybe it’ll distract them enough if they find something easy to grab from you, and leave it at that.”

“The .38 and the 10mm?”

“How many other guns could I be talking about?”

‘Choly helped Sticks unload Angel’s storage into the trunk, but he kept his Merrick Index and the MKExceed Papers inside of it, as well as a few dishes and utensils, hairbrush, and his prewar bonds. Angel had insisted upon retaining every chem in ‘Choly’s possession, as per the terms of their agreement. While Sticks organized his own possessions, ‘Choly anxiously slipped his syringer revolver from its holster, unthreaded the suppressor, and tucked the two parts of the gun in Angel’s false bottom storage compartment. Then, he crawled onto the center console to toss the belt holster in the footlocker, along with Sticks’s hunting rifle, his bekesha-tulup, and all of Angel’s tendril attachments.

“I know I don’t have all that much to trade with,” ‘Choly admitted by sleight of words, slumping into the passenger seat, “but is there a slim chance these people actually value paper money? All I have left is three grand in bonds. ...Fuck me, I wish I had known better than to deal exclusively in cash with the raiders.”

Sticks laughed sharply at the reminder of ‘Choly’s misstep.

“Money changing hands needs to stay my turf. But, the short answer is,” he shut the trunk, and grinned at him through the windshield, with a nod, “yes.”

They got back on the road again, returning to the North end of the Ant Lane mall. ‘Choly eyed their surroundings as they pulled slowly into the parking garage, filled with hundreds of vehicles in varying stages of decay. Thousands of yards of textiles formed tents, strung from the concrete structure and draped between cars, trucks, and station wagons. Paranoid pedestrians gave the car a wide berth as Sticks looped carefully through the garage in search of an empty parking spot.

“Covered Parking is a residential block now,” Sticks narrated coolly. He waved at a couple of kids staring at them, and they scattered. “There’s three neighborhoods to this place: the Laners inside, the Satellites outside, and then these folks here. With the engine removed, cars make decent enough housing. Rental spaces are limited, so they pile in here while the weather permits. Blue’s just more mobile than home, is all. There’s a couple people who fancy themselves landlords and landladies, but they can’t afford to be bullies about it. It’s more that they... request donations to keep things running smoothly out here. Hey, slip me a hundred, would you?”

Sticks stopped the vehicle as a heavyset man in layered draped shawls approached the driver’s side to rest his hands atop the open window. ‘Choly presumed him an aforementioned lessor.

“I’ve heard stories about a shambler with a car,” he started, adjusting his black-rim glasses. “This place is for inert vehicles.”

“The name’s Sticks,” Sticks grimaced. “Little Boy Blue’s safe. I just got ‘im tuned up this week. Speaking of safe, I just need a good place to tuck him for a few days. Want to protect his fresh paint job.”

The man laid his hands ever so gently on Sticks’s Pip-Boy with a curious concern for the trio’s quantity of technology. He let go when Sticks pulled his arm into his lap from the door armrest, and eyed ‘Choly and his Pip-Boy with a flighty politic. Then he saw Angel behind them and couldn’t not gulp down a yelp.

“I will not store General Atomics things here!”

“--It’s coming with us,” ‘Choly blurted out with a frown. “We just need a parking spot for the car.”

The man’s face knotted all up, not comforted by the chemist’s reassurance.

“Convince me the engine’s not volatile. I’ve got a community to keep secure here.”

Sticks clapped his hands together and smiled.

“It’s certified by someone who restores power armor.”

The ghoul tucked ‘Choly’s $100 bill up the man’s sleeve. The man’s eyes widened and he patted at it in surprise, then tucked it all the way inside his cuff.

“--You can park it here--until the ants say otherwise. It goes in the lot then! I won’t have an inversion event just because you agreed to help foot our grocery bill this week.”

They shook on it.

“That’s the last thing either of us wants,” he appeased. “Really, I’ll take whatever number you can give us.”

“I want you as far out from the rest as possible. How about... A99. By the ramp.” He pointed off to the northeast corner, furthest from the mall itself, before turning back to Sticks and ‘Choly. “Ask around for Maury, if you need me for anything. I’ll let the other lessors know your Little Boy Blue is occupied.”

“You’re a delight, Maury.”

“I’m just doing my job.”

They pulled around to the last row. As Maury indicated, fewer tenants occupied this corner of the concrete canopy.

“Power armor?” ‘Choly echoed. “Sturges works on power armor?”

“Works on just about anything with moving parts. He told me he worked on ‘em all the time in Quincy. There’s a garage down there, for people who own ‘em. Kind of like a car club, but for power armor. He likes working on the things. Lots of technical parts. But he doesn’t trust himself to step inside.”

It sounded enough aligned with what Sturges had told him, that he accepted it.

“What did Maury mean by inversion event?”

“Psh, that’s just a fancy way of saying ‘car goes boom.’” Sticks parked and turned off the engine. “Happens a little more... spontaneously up here in Ant than the Commonwealth, I’ll admit.”

“Aren’t you worried Blue will explode?” He frowned. “After all the work you put into restoring it this week?”

“I don’t worry my pretty rotten head about what might happen. And you’d be wise not to, either. You’ve got all your priceless formulas and crapola crammed in Angel’s back.” He patted ‘Choly on the knee and handed him the 10mm pistol from the center console, then tucked the .38 in his apron. “Who knows? You might like it here. You worry about as much as any Laner I’ve met.”

‘Choly retrieved his cane from beside the seat, then checked the safety on the gun before pocketing it. Sticks locked up, and jingled his keys in his pocket cheerily as they walked back through the garage. Along the way, Sticks greeted any people who were staring. Angel joined in, anxious left unarmed among an entire population of technophobes. ‘Choly could appreciate how many had set their cars’ seats outside the vehicles as patio furniture, to make more room inside for multiple people to sleep. He disliked children, but their presence reassured him.

The northernmost anchor store used to be a DeMarco-Boyle. Its Streamline Moderne metal pocket doors would once have slid open for them, but now required manually pulling them open and shut with a pulley system operated by security. Rather than open the door, the four armed guards drew on Angel.

“What’s the big idea?” one of the men demanded, wagging his assault rifle at the Mister Handy. “’At thing’s got combat parts.”

“Sir, I assure you, it would take just one of you to be more equipped than the whole lot of us.” Angel cycled through its attachments in demonstration that all its attachment positions were empty except its tendrils. “I accompany my owner to serve as his mobility aid.”

“Hope you handle stairs all right, lady. We don’t do upkeep on none ‘a them ‘ator things.“

‘Choly’s upper lip twitched, but he kept himself from clacking his cane at the man. Once Angel’s show of hands satisfied the guards, they stood down and shouldered their rifles. Two flanked the door again, to draw it open, while the other two approached to escort the men inside the vestibule to commence their search. Between the outer and inner doors, a mix of desks and folding tables had been set up for sorting and intake.

“He’ll manage,” Sticks remarked. “If Angel isn’t carrying him, I can.”

“Aight, folks. It’s that time.” One of the doorkeepers cleared her throat and rattled off their regulations with the rhythmic monotony inherent in reciting from memory. “The Aldermen of Ant Lane have declared the mall itself a weaponless space. Stepping foot within the mall perimeter is declaration of an individual’s agreement to adhere to this regulation, by whatever force necessary. All firearms, knives, swords, bludgeons, power fists, power armor, explosives, and ballistics and energy-based weapons must be forfeit upon entry. If requested, an individual may log their ownership of any forfeit weaponry, and later have it returned upon leaving. Ant Lane’s armory holds no responsibility for any weapons misplaced while in holding.”

As per their protocol, the guards paired off same-sex to the individual they searched. A female guard had already paired off to pat ‘Choly down. The guards didn’t notice their mistake. He clenched his teeth when she pocketed his 10mm with routine jadedness, and glanced in displeasure to Sticks. The ghoul shrugged at him with a helpless hint of a smile.

“I’ll have you know I came all the way from Concord in search of medical provisions.“

The guard who’d searched him stood, satisfied.

“One, woah. There’s still people all the way North of Manchester? Two, you came to the Lane lookin’ for a doctor? You are S.o.L. girl. Unless you intend to help us find one. Best we got’s Liam. Lord knows he’s stretched thinner than a Caradbou’s britches.”

“What about those things on your arms?” The third guard was the youngest, and most unnerved by the whole thing.

“They’re just portable terminals,” ‘Choly suggested. “Pip-Boys. They’re not robots.”

“You’re not a robot, are ya?” the third continued.

“Elephant in the room,” the first guard snipped, irritated with his trainee. “Somebody search that robot. Make sure it ain’t got any hidden compartments or anything.”

“Oh, you’re completely right,” ‘Choly offered shakily, making himself overly helpful. “Forgive me. It slipped my mind to mention it. It does have a compartment. L-- let me show you.”

Angel lowered its flame so its compartment could be reached. Once ‘Choly had the cover flipped open, the female guard pushed him aside to poke around.

“Lots of papers. Small chem stash. Some herbs... What’s in the bottles?”

“Silt flour smoothies,” Sticks endeared.

“Almost wanna declare those hazardous. Watch where you drink ‘em.” She pushed things around inside for a bit, then stepped back and snorted. “It’s clean.”

‘Choly overcompensated to avoid the relief unstringing his joints on the spot, and instead pulled some muscles in his side.

“So are we good, then?” Sticks asked, hands back in his pockets to rock on his heels. “We’d really like to head down to your famous food court already.”

“Be aware that we’re reporting your presence to the Aldermen,” the fourth guard allowed. “You’re cleared for entry for the moment, but should they find exception with admitting your robot, you will be evacuated from the premises.”

The trio thanked the guards quietly, and moved inside.

Go to Next »»»

[mollyalicia3]

Jimmy’s Johnnys— A Minneapolis Institution

Fresh off of his international beach vacation, we catch Rich Anderson, owner of Jimmy’s Johnnys, a small business institution in Minneapolis / St. Paul. We try to keep up with Rich as he’s on the move during this interview, as he is throughout every day, per his preference to manage his business from the field. Rich explains how Jimmy Johnnys was established. My great uncle, Jim Lillemo actually started the business in 1979. (My grandmother’s sister was his wife.) I was going through college for business management and looking around for a business I could start on the side while I kept my full-time job. I kept seeing portable toilets everywhere. So, I told my mom, “I’m going to go buy ten or twelve toilets and start a business.” My mom then told me that my great uncle and aunt had that kind of business and that they were selling it. I called my uncle and said I’d like to buy ten or twelve toilets. He said he didn’t want to sell just that small number of units, but that he would sell me the business and work with me to help the financing make sense for me. I was working as a general manager for Hardees at that time, but I didn’t want to continue that. But, I was making pretty good money there for a young guy. I couldn’t go backward in pay, so I thought I needed to start my own business. Reflecting Rich explains that he was always kind of entrepreneurially lent. I started a limo business in college for my mother. I also did some real estate business. I bought 11 or 12 houses on the VA, through an auction system. But, that’s a pretty capital-intensive business. Then, I bought the business from my uncle in 1999.

Jimmy’s Johnny’s Business Model What does the business consist of, and how did it develop? Jim, the original owner, had multiple businesses when he was getting ready to sell, including septic, septic installation, toilet rental business. He wasn’t focused on the toilet rental business, and wouldn’t go past Interstate 694. My wife and I discussed whether or not we wanted to remain a smaller regional player or go for the gusto and become a full-complement provider. I think we have 19 employees right now. It goes up and down a little seasonally. We have probably 2,500 single toilet units and 11 luxury restroom trailers, including a shower trailer. Most of the luxury trailers go to weddings, but the market is increasing for commercial remodeling jobs. We also have storage container rentals and sales. My first year at the pumper convention, there was a vendor selling a trailer for storage containers. I immediately thought it was a great idea. He had a little bar graph showing strong income in delivery charges for a unit and in picking it back up. While it’s on the customer’s site, it just sits there. There’s no service to do to it, and you get paid about the same as for a toilet unit. Customers who buy the containers like the fact that there are no added real estate taxes, because they’re not permanent structures. Also, they’re waterproof, so they’re great for storing equipment, etc.. The only place I advertise is on a sticker above the urinal in the toilet units. That works really well. Supervisors from jobs call and say, “I was standing at your toilet and saw the sticker, and I need containers.”

A Scale Maintenance Business Model We’re not as big as some of our competitors, but we’re just big enough that we can do anything they can do. When the Super Bowl came in, they wanted 350 portable toilets, and we’re big enough that we could provide that. Other companies in the area have full-time sales staffs. We don’t have any full-time sales people. I do sales, and the staff in our office do some sales calls. We don’t try to grow anymore. I feel like if you get too big you lose the feeling of a small business. We just dedicate everything to service. You’re going to lose some around the edges. But, once we get a client, they usually stay with us. I remind our staff that we’re not the cheapest, but we have better quality and we strive every day to be the best. Our competitors are also very professional and provide good quality too. But, our customers don’t like the idea that when they call them they get people they don’t know. When they call us, they know they’re going to work with the same person every time.

Daily Operations at Jimmy’s Johnnys Rich’s approach to client relations brings his clients up close to top management in a way we’ve rarely seen in a company of the size of his. I give my personal cell phone number to larger clients and those with special events. That way, they know that they can reach me directly if there are any issues. We also have a 24-hour phone number. The recording tells people to call the emergency line if they need help, which is my cell phone. I once heard one of our staff in the office telling a customer who was having an event we were preparing to service, “The owner will be there himself, and here’s his personal cell phone number.” I could tell that that reassurance made an important difference to the customer. It also helps in retention of employees for me to be on sites working with them. Workers have said to me, “It’s not so bad when I have to work a 14-hour day when I know you’re right there too.” Rich notes that this point goes back to the earlier question about growth. If I get any bigger, I would have to be in the office all the time and wouldn’t be able to stay in the field. I basically run all of the operations from my truck seat right here. So, I’m on the phone managing everything every day. I don’t do the toilets every day, since I’m so busy with the storage containers now. It’s a full-time job for one person to run the storages now. We have about 180-200 of those. In winter, when we have more time, I work on selling those. We’ve provided about 300 portable toilets for the Minnesota State Fair. Other than staying onsite along with our team throughout two weeks of that event, I handle the storage containers, and our route drivers do all of the toilet servicing. My wife, Julie manages everything in the business office. She’s converted all of our office functions to digital to create a mostly paperless system. I was skeptical at first, but she had a vision for a paperless management office, and it has been amazing. It’s a very organized system. It’s made it very convenient to access everything we need. We note that this extent of paperless operation makes Jimmy’s Johnnys perhaps the eco-friendly portable restroom company that we’ve featured in American Liquid Waste magazine over the past year, and possibly one of the greenest anywhere in the country.

Nationwide Industry Challenges in Minneapolis Market Does your company have the typical industry problem of finding and keeping good employees? It has been a huge struggle for the last several years and it’s getting worse and worse. We just keep calling our old timers. We have a great team; they’re good guys. The business almost runs itself because they do such a good job. I couldn’t do what I do without such a strong team. Most of them have been with us 5-10 years. We’ve got a core group every year, and we have to add a couple every year because we lose some. We run an ad. It’s very hard to find good people. It’s our number one concern. How is it to work in the Minnesota winter weather? Amused, Rich points to the day of this interview as an example. Just this morning, it rained, then it snowed, then it rained again. A brake drum was frozen, so I had to switch trailers. As far as freezing fluids in the restroom units, we use a brine mix. This year, we completely redesigned that system, so it’s less labor intensive and pretty painless to manage. The bobcat loads the salt, and the process is all really easy to do. We’ve been doing it for so long that we kind of have our tricks of the trade. Even in –20 degrees, they’ve rarely frozen.

Rich Anderson’s Professional Philosophy I’m a big believer in looking professional. I think you can’t really provide a professional service without having good equipment. Our trucks are usually at around 150,000 miles. Every 2 to 3 years, they’re replaced, even our restroom trailers. We also have a great mechanic who keeps everything in good repair. Have you looked at adding some finishing touches to the luxury restrooms, as some restroom trailer companies around the country have been doing? I’ve seen companies bring out staging stuff in the restrooms. Our emphasis is on making sure that it’s brought very clean. We hand-wax the exterior, clean and shiny and new, put scent disks in them, and over-stock every one with all the necessary supplies. I’m usually the guy that delivers those, so I can personally communicate with customers regarding necessary placement and ensure they’re satisfied.

Equipment and Technology Utilization at Jimmy’s Johnnys Do you use any newer technologies to optimize operations or services? GPS is built in the Route Optics system we use. When the drivers open up their route, it gives them turn-by-turn directions. It really has made routes easier. In the old days, there were paper routes. It would take weeks for a new person to learn where everything was. Now, if you go onto 100-acre property, if the person who serviced it last has pushed the button, other people can quickly locate the unit. We bought our own tire changing machine last years. We were spending about $10,000 per year to change tires. Before we got it, every time tires needed changing, two people would have to drive to drop off a truck and then two would have to go back and pick it up. So, that was a lot of labor just to get tires from another shop.

Advice From Rich Anderson for New Entrepreneurs Finally, we asked Rich for some wisdom he could offer for new business owners in the industry during the new year. I don’t’ know how people find me but, surprisingly, two or three people per year call me from around the country and say they want to get into the portable restroom business in their area and ask me for advice. I talk to them about two things—service and patience. So many people want to get into this business and be a big guy instantly. They seem to decide that the only way to grow is to be the cheapest guy out there. Some grow so fast that they go bankrupt. I can suggest to be patient and give good service, and you’ll grow. If you focus on giving good service, when people find you, they don’t leave you. We found through this interview that the continuously-mobile, deeply-insightful entrepreneurial figure of Rich Anderson personifies that timeless core service business principle that quality service reliably leads to a financially healthy enterprise. This is a consistent theme that runs through all of our meetings with business leaders throughout the United States who sustain their companies’ success over time in our industry. Rich Anderson’s additional emphasis on patience does rise to the level of a second core principle in an industry where there is such extreme temptation during startups to grab all that can be grabbed of new business by undercutting prices, without foresight into the consequences of such impulsiveness to clients, employees and business owners. Patience is certainly a fundamental requirement for viability. To go deeper, resolving oneself to be brave in maintaining that kind of difficult and often financially and psychologically painful patience during a startup is a secret understood by those entrepreneurs with the strength of will, and yes, the courage to resist attempts to seize all prospective accounts around them. We thank Rich Anderson for shining a light on the reality that chasing an immediate sense of security and satisfaction is a futile pursuit in our industry and that staying the course of only promising what can actually be delivered with pride in quality is the singular path to long-term success.

http://www.americanliquidwaste.com/2019/01/spotlight/jimmys-johnnys-a-minneapolis-institution/

from Septic Tank Pumping Pros https://septictankpumpingpros.wordpress.com/2019/01/09/jimmys-johnnys-a-minneapolis-institution/

[sorayahigashikata]

Chapter 46

[analyn100]

Fool Me Once

Catherine Adams loves to play games with Spencer. He may have been out of prison for two months, but like the cat playing with the mouse, Spencer will never be free

Chapter Seven - July 27 & 30, 2017

Two hours and a hot shower later and Penelope was back to her usual self...almost. This could not be this hard. Once they'd had one piece of evidence for Nadie's murder, they'd been able to unravel the entire case in a single night! She sighed, practically slamming her mug of peppermint tea down on the table. She chewed on her nails - a nervous habit, courtesy of Emily. Of course that clue had been provided by Reid. Just like the clue in the Hankel case. Why was it that Reid always had to solve his own cases? She was a fellow genius, she could solve this. She could do it, damn it!

Think, Think, Think. She drummed her fingers against the keyboard, biting her lip. She had Lindsey's cell phone number, but it was a burner. She was sure she could crack this case. She had always managed to dive headfirst into cyberspace, and she always found the treasure chest motherload, but to do that she needed a roadmap and for that she needed...parameters. Maybe a fresh set of eyes would help.

She pulled her glittery cell phone out of her purse again, finger hoovering over Derek's number. She so badly wanted to call her Chocolate Thunder and pick his brain, but Boy Wonder apparently didn't want him to be called. Last time, Emily had emphasized the importance of Reid maintaining control over the one part of his life that was still in his control. He hadn't wanted to talk to Morgan for whatever crazy ego reason his brain had conjured up. She stared at Morgan's name on the screen, debating. To call, or not to call.

"Hey, Baby Girl." What the?

Penelope spun on her heels so fast she almost tumbled over her desk chair...there was her hero, magically appearing on her webcam frame. Derek Morgan, lifting his baby boy up to the web cam.

"Hi, Hank!"

"So, a little bird named Emily told me you had a bad day."

Visitation.

The one word could send an inmate through a myriad of emotions: guilt, longing, happiness, despair. There were days of longing for it, and days of dreading it. There were even days where an inmate might prefer to stay in his cell, rather than to have all of his hopes and dreams dangled in front of him - like carrot on a stick. But when a friend - who KNOWS he isn't on your visitation list - shows up after a multi-hour trip, well it would be rude NOT to come.

Upon entering the jail visitation room, Spencer Reid had to do a double-take: booth seating with no partitions? There was a single handcuff dangling by a long chain mounted to the wall. Still, he thought as the guard changed the cuffs, this wasn't too bad. He only had to wait a couple of minutes before a very familiar face came into view. He didn't have his usual exuberance, but his strained smile was still a welcome sight.

"Morgan!" He had to cross his shackled legs under the table to stop himself from attempting to stand for a greeting.

"Hey, there, kid." Morgan took the seat opposing him as he'd obviously been instructed. "How are you holding up?"

"Pretty good, it's been better since Rossi sent a surprise."

"Do tell." It was a pleasant surprise just to see a smile on Reid's face...hopefully he wouldn't have to wipe it off.

"Rossi sent me his latest manuscript for editing. Told me to write down 'everything' I know -"

Rossi must have lost his mind, or Reid's mental state was worse than he was letting on. "Let me guess you've finished two notebooks full of 'notes'."

Reid was grinning from ear to ear. "Yup, sounds about right." He didn't need to tell Morgan that he'd been up to the small hours of the morning adding notes to the margins when he'd run out of pages. It had felt so good to get his brain back in gear. "He said I'll get a new chapter every week."

Rossi was letting Reid write his next book? Rossi never let anyone near his manuscripts with a 10 foot pole, never mind what his publisher would think about that. "Reid - why? I told you when I left that if you needed any help all you would have to do is ask. And you obviously need it."

Reid opened his mouth to deny it, but snapped his jaw shut just as quickly. "Do you have pictures of my littlest godson?"

"Do I have -?"Morgan smiled broadly. He pulled a stack out of his jacket pocket. "Boy, do I have pictures for you!"

Morgan allowed the obvious attempt at deflection, keeping an eye on his watch timer while Reid poured over the photos. It would do the kid's mind some good to have actual pleasant conversation - and nothing did that better than babies.

"Morgan, he is the cutest little thing."

"Cuter even than Henry or Michael?" Reid's look of mock outrage would have been a perfect photo. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding."

Reid turned his attention to the next photo. "Wait is he-?"

"Yup, climbing all over the furniture and scaring Savannah half - Reid? Reid, what is it?"

Reid stared at the smiling baby, proud of having climbed up on the chair all by himself. He looked so happy, such carefree innocence. Innocence that could be snuffed out like a single candle lighting up the room. He put the photo down, his eyes fixed on Morgan. "You need to leave."

"Reid, I came all the way from Chicago to see you and i still have 53 minutes left and I'm not leaving a second sooner. Why the change of mind?"

"It's not a change of mind, Morgan. There's a reason I didn't write to you in Millburn and there's a reason I didn't write to you this time." He held the picture up. "There's also a reason you left the Bureau."

"Hank? What about him?"

"J.J. and I went to interview Cat to get my mom back when I was released from Millburn and - she threatened him."

"Cat threatened Hank? Reid, she wouldn't. I mean, she got her vices but she's never hurt kids. You said so yourself."

"She was trying to figure out who else she could hurt to get to me and he came up. Mind you, I told her his name is Bobby -"

"-but she still knew about him."

"Exactly. If anything happened - I didn't mention it before because Lindsey was caught that night but under the circumstances.-

"Then I have double the reason to help out. You let me worry about my family. You have enough on your plate right now. Anyway, this isn't totally a social call."

"What do you mean?"

"What happened is you owe Garcia big time, brother. She did a ViCap interview with Lindsey."

There were many possibilities flying through Spencer Reid's slightly dulled brain, but that was not one of them."She what? Garcia interviewed Lindsey in prison?" Reid's eyes went wide. "Garcia doesn't even look at crime scene photos if she can avoid it. Why would she -?"

"Because she cares about you. She wants you home safe and she will do anything she can to prove you're innocent."

"How, though, IA banned the team -"

"From the evidence in the case -"

"-and the suspects."

"But Cruz approved the interview since she isn't officially a suspect."

"She did all of that for me?" he whispered in awe. He knew she would leave no cyber stone un-turned, but to go to a prison? She'd been in tears when she'd come back from visiting Greg Baylor - and that had been for her own peace of mind.

"And I think she's onto something." He picked up the stack of photos and plucked two of them out from the center."Do you know either of these people?" One man and one woman. Reid picked up the one of a tall man with cropped black hair and a small mustache. "Johnny. I met him...at a club meeting."

Morgan's face was frozen half way between a cheer and a groan. "Club meeting?" Their old nickname for 'Narcotics Anonymous'. 10 years on and the topic was still taboo. Damn, again. "How long have you known him?"

"He first came about three years ago. He'd had a relapse after his girlfriend left him and he'd been reassigned to Quantico. Why? You don't think -?"

"I do think."

"It can't -" Johnny couldn't be the mole. He just couldn't be.

"Reid, I don't know why you have so much faith in him, but listen to me. It IS him! It makes even MORE sense now! He transferred from the Detroit office and he worked with Shaw before his arrest."

"He wouldn't."

"He works at the BOP. He visited Shaw at Millburn three days before your transfer. He's the one who put the PC block on your file, he's also the one who arranged for them all - Durerson, Frazer, AND CAT - to be transferred out on the same flight. It's him, and his name isn't 'Johnny', it's Joel Matthews."

Reid stared at the picture, trying to wrap his mind around the thought, but it just didn't compute. Reid had confided to him, things that even the team had never known. As much as the team cared, there were things Johnny - Joel - knew that had never even crossed into conversation with the team.

"Reid, it makes sense." Or as much sense as anything did these days.

"No, it doesn't. If he wanted to destroy my career for - something, he could have -" Could have turned Reid in for his past drug use.

"He'd have to incriminate himself on drug charges, Reid, he couldn't do that." Mutually Assured Destruction. There was a reason it was called 'MAD'. "I don't know why he chose that extreme route, Reid, but he did. He's the only suspect who fits the -"

"-criteria," Reid scoffed. "Like me? If you look at my record now, I look like a -"

"DON'T SAY IT." Like a serial killer.

"How did you do it? How did you find him?"

"Garcia got Lindsey's cell phone number. He called her hours after your arrest and his phone pinged at the Brownsville crossing."

"Is it all behavioral evidence or do you have anything forensic?" Anything that could top the evidence against him?

"Not yet, but team is digging deep. We'll find it, whatever it is."

There it was again, empty promises.

"So what do we do, now?"

At least he had stopped fighting it. "We keeping digging until we find enough dirt to bury him under. Now for the good news." He picked up the photo of the woman, looking apprehensive. "Recognize her?"

"Can't say that I do."

"Well, meet the first victim."

"You got an ID? How? There wasn't enough DNA to make a full match."

"True, but the final autopsy report noted a third kidney and therefore a -" He waved an imaginary baton in Reid's direction.

"A kidney transplant patient."

"Bingo! All Garcia had to do was cross reference missing women with the age and approximate height with prescriptions for Mycophe -something."

"Mycophenolic acid? It's a common immunosuppresent for renal patients."

"And that genius brain is back. That's correct...and there was only ONE that fit all criteria."

"So let me guess, they're going to contact the family for a mitochondrial DNA test which doesn't require as much sample as an exact match."

"Crossing all fingers. Hopefully the ID can be officially made. Julia Kelting, here, is going to be your 'get out of jail free' card -"

Reid froze at the name.

"Reid? Reid, hello. Earth to Reid?"

Reid's eyes darted around the visitation room, it was too crowded, too risky. "I don't - think." He was stuttering and white as a sheet. "I think you should talk to -"

"Reid, don't tell me to call your lawyer! I'm trying to help you." He wasn't going to doubt Reid knew something, his behavior change was textbook for a...a guilty man. "Why are you lying to me?"

"I'm not."

"You just changed your story. You said you didn't know her, now you're acting like you've seen a ghost. What's going on? What are you not telling me?"

"It's true, I never met her. She was a PhD student working with Dr. Ramos for her degree in Neuroscience."

"That's a lot of info on someone you've never met before." Almost verbatim info that Garcia had given him. Please tell me you read her books. Morgan wasn't sure he could stomach any more incriminating evidence. Reid was biting his lips, his eyes darting between Morgan and the photo. "Go on." There was no doubt that Reid was withholding something.

"She was supposed to meet Dr. Ramos and I for a meeting at my mom's facility in Houston. She never showed up. Dr. Ramos suspected foul play but there was no evidence. After that, I met her in Mexico. I used my personal passport to attract less attention at the border. I was trying to keep her safe. For all the good that did."

"When was this?"

"October 17, 3 pm. When and where did she go missing?"

Morgan closed his eyes in defeat. Reid could not have given him a worse answer. "She left campus at 2 on the 17th, it's less than 10 miles from your mom."

Reid looked away, slumped in defeat. "So my alibi is that I was meeting the OTHER woman I was accused of killing. The jury will love that." Just what he needed, another nail in his coffin.

[wgwhite]

‘The Flash: Rebirth’, A Review. Or, ‘Damn that boy run fast, what he hiding?’

How many times can The Reverse Flash actually mess with Barry’s legos? The answer is indefinitely.

Admittedly, I’m little bit obsessed with The Flash at the moment. I bought a ‘baseball’ cap with his shield on. I’ve delved into the comics at what I’m told is a good in point, and I’ve religiously watched the CW show starting Grant Gustin. Actually I wrote a little piece about that and the Green Arrow adaptation ‘Arrow’ a little while ago (PLUG). Fair warning, this review will feature spoilers.

The Flash Rebirth is the first comic book I’ve A) ever owned. B) ever read. So The Flash has the dual ownership of introducing me to comics and a new monetary sink hole.

Written by Geoff Jones and illustrated by Ethan Van Sciver, Rebirth is a pretty intense read. So intense in fact, that MTV SPLASH PAGE dubbed the graphic novel: “Impressive”.

The book is beautiful in its art, and thought-provoking in its narrative. And, if I’m completely honest, I don’t think I’ll ever tire of Jay Garrak throwing his hat like a metal rimmed frisbee of pain. The old timer’s got a mighty fine throwin’ arm.

The plot: Barry Allan is back from the dead. Like many a costume-clad hero before him, Barry has managed to seduce Death into being more relaxed around him. One day, Death left the gate unlocked whilst he was out running chores, and Barry–the naughty little Red Devil that he is–high tailed outt’a there like only a speedster can. That’s how I imagine it happened, anyway. The comic tells us otherwise. Absorbed into the Speed force, Barry had lost all track of his individuality (I didn’t know the Speed force was actually the Borg, but oh well), until a mysterious villain drags him back to the world of the living for some dark, ominous purpose…It’s The Reverse Flash. I don’t know why they even tried to hide it, it’s so obvious.

Now back in the world of the living, Barry faces his biggest challenge yet: the Costume Kerfuffle! See, Wally West had assumed the mantle of The Flash in Barry’s absence (the presumptuous little so-and-so), and now both men have equal rights to the coveted red cowl. Barry’s solution? Become The Black Flash and officially begin the tenth annual Speeder Games! Completely against his will, obviously. The Reverse Flash, criminal mastermind that he is, reveals his entire genius to Barry in a showdown inside the Speed force.

Eobard Thawne (aka The Reverse Flash) was behind bringing Barry back from the dead. He ran fast enough to generate his own Reverse Speed force and contaminated Barry. Turning him into a weapon to be used against his family and friends. Why? It’s simple really: Eobard Thawne is completely insane. Not content with Barry Allen being legitimately dead, Thawne devised his master plan simply so he could make Barry kill his loved ones with a single touch, and live out the rest of his days as a guilt ridden monster, his legacy destroyed, himself a wreck of a man.

It didn’t quite go down as Thawne had hoped though. Barry sacrifices himself again and the two have a face off inside the Speed force. But soon the fight takes them back to Earth were Jay Garrak, Bart Allen, Max Mercury, Jesse Quick, and Iris West (aka Impulse) have all gathered to watch Wally and Barry finally solve their costume war. Wally’s new threads are a darker, maroon red. His gold lighting bolts are glossy finished. His eyes are white and his nose is covered by his mask. Barry accepts these changes gracefully, donning the classic brighter red suit and yellow lighting bolts for himself. The world rejoices as the bloodiest conflict in recent years is finally at a conclusion. Celebrations are had, the universe is finally at peace. And then all the assembled Speeders join together to beat The Reverse Flash or something like that. It’s all fine.

I found Rebirth to be a fantastic point to join The Flash locomotive. You’re being introduced to a world that’s obviously already in full swing (there’s a comment from Superman about them losing Batman somehow, which shows there’s some major background here), but because we’re following Barry Allen, a man whose been dead for the last twenty-three years, it doesn’t matter that there’s some story we’re missing. We know as much as the perspective character, and that’s all we need.

The story (summarised perfectly above) is gripping in all the right ways. As a first time comic book reader, I did have to get used to the format, but once I was in full swing it was an easy read. My only gripe is the sheer volume of characters involved. Many of whom I didn’t know existed. But, this wasn’t written for the intention of giving new people like myself a place to start (I assume). So Geoff Johns and Ethan Van Sciver have used a wide arsenal of Speeders, heroes and villains alike.

It’s colourful and it’s vivid, but it’s also dark in places. Johnny Quick’s death was particularly harrowing.

All in all: comic good.

* * *

The Flash is a DC Comics Superhero known for his ability to run hella fast. His inception is accredited to Gardner Fox and artist Harry Lampert, but many different characters have been donned The Flash’s mantle over the character’s mammoth seventy-five year run.

The Flash: Rebirth was written by Geoff Johns & illustrated by Ethan Van Sciver.

Here’s a link to the comic on amazon: http://www.amazon.com/The-Flash-Rebirth-Geoff-Johns/dp/1401230016

[ndakota2017]

After Wally and Linda left, we had lunch and headed up to the south unit of Teddy Roosevelt National Park. As we were walking from the visitor center to the rv, we asked a young man how he was doing. He said it wasn't the best day of his life and we asked why? He had locked the keys to his van on the front seat and was thinking how he could get them out. I told him if his window was down a little bit it would be easy since it wasn't it might be difficult. He said if he had a screwdriver he thought he could do it and a coat hanger. We produced a coat hanger and a screwdriver. He got the keys hooked onto the coat hanger by prying open the upper right hand corner of the door and got the keys up to the corner of the door. He got overzealous and the keys dropped off on to the floorboard. At that point it was above my pay grade and we left. A ranger was on his way to help and he was ready to Google how to break in a car. We went on to the 33 mile loop around the south unit of Teddy Roosevelt National Park. It was very interesting as you've seen from the pictures that we took. We got home and relaxed all afternoon. When we awoke the next morning, the clouds had descended on the hills around us. By the time we got ready to go on our walk, you couldn't see 500 yards in front of you. We were grateful we had gone out on a clear day to see the park. By the time we got ready to leave at 9, the sun had burned off the fog and it was sunny and bright. We only drove 30 miles that day to Dickinson, North Dakota. On the way to the campground, we saw a golf course and drove to it for a 9-hole round of golf. It was a nice public course. We have not played since April so it wasn't a very pretty round, but it was fun and we didn't lose a ball. We found a campground not far from the golf course and settled in for the night. When checking-in I mentioned something about Germany. Maureen, our hostess told us she had just checked in a couple from Germany who have lived in the states many years. As she took us to our campsite, she stopped and introduced us to Mike from Munich. He asked us to stop by later so we did. We had a nice talk around 4 and agreed to come back later after dinner. We went back and talked a lot more over some wine and the recipe. They had lived in Oakland and had recently sold their house to buy an RV and were full timers. They did what many people do. They came to North Dakota and got a driver's license and a post office address. An interesting couple and we had a good visit. We thought we might see them the next day or evening, but they had a car and were visiting both units of the Teddy Roosevelt National Park. We decided to stay another night and play the back nine of the same golf course that we had played earlier. It was a good day on the golf course, but not necessarily a good round of golf. I did par two of the last two holes to score 107 for the two days. In the morning, we headed east to the Enchanted Highway,  a 35 mile stretch south of Interstate 94 in the direction of Regent, North Dakota. It has some of the largest sculptures in the world, actually 8 of them. We only saw 7 because one of them was an eighth of a mile off the road on a muddy gravel road. The RV doesn't do mud, so we missed one sculpture. They were all quite interesting and relevant to the area. At the third sculpture we saw two men and a woman having a lot of fun looking at these sculptures. We took pictures of all three of them and realized they were all deaf and possibly mute. We were able to communicate our desire to take a picture of them and they took a picture of us. I thanked her and she signed your welcome so now I know that sign. We were going in the same direction so we met them at each succeeding sculpture until the last one. They were interested in our rv and at the third sculpture I offered them a chance to see it they were interested. They wondered if it were a rental. They are from Washington, DC and they are climbing the highest points in each. One guy is up to number 28, one was up to number 40 and his wife ( a beautiful young woman according to Elizabeth) had just started. You meet some of the most interesting people when you're traveling off the beaten path. When we got to Regent, we were going to just go through town but something caught our eye and we turned around.  We parked across the street from the Regent Museum. We just had to go in and met one of the most colorful characters we have met in all of our travels.  He was giving a couple a guided tour of the museum and asked us to wait for a few minutes in the front lobby.  He asked me if that was my wife and I said no, my wife's at home, that's my girlfriend. He didn't seem shocked at all and I knew we were in for a treat. He came back and introduced himself as “Hello my name is Johnny Cash”. I got it and said, but you're not dressed in black. He didn't miss a beat and said I just washed my clothes. He was very knowledgeable about the region and said he's never been out of North Dakota. I'm not sure about that but he did know a lot about the area. He had walls of calendars in the back that went back over 100 years. We finally found 1946 so he could show us on what day we were born. It turned out the couple he was talking to before us was his grandson and new wife. We got to meet them when we got into the larger part of the museum. He actually had a 1957 Chevrolet, red with a white top four door exactly like one I had in 1976 the 1978. He took us out and showed us an old church that been moved to the museum area 20 or 25 years ago.  It was a very good example of a typical prairie church where people came on Sunday to worship, visit and have a picnic. He told very poignant story about a man who came back looking for his father's church. The man was from California had been searching for years for the church. George asked where the church was and what his father's name was. When he heard that, he showed him on the wall of the church a picture of his father who was the last pastor of that church before it was moved to Regent, North Dakota, for the museum. George said the man was overcome with emotion and cried. He and George were in contact for a couple of years, but George hasn't heard from him and fears he may be dead. We had to leave and get something to eat. We saw on the map that in the town there are actually 30 + buildings that are set aside as museums. We told George we couldn't stay and were on our way. I told two more jokes and he got one in before we left. He's going to be 80 years old in a month and was one of the most interesting characters we have met on our trips. We had an emotional goodbye and we hugged pretty tightly because we knew this is a special time for all of us. We meandered on another historical route until we got to just east of Bismarck. We found a KOA that had no regular rv spots available. They did let us look at some tent sites that have water and electric. We picked a likely spot and settled in for the evening. There was a lot of rain last evening and we finally looked at some TV news. It turned out we're in a middle of a thunderstorm, tornado and hail storm warning area. We said, no problem, we're s from Oklahoma, just another day at the office. It was good sleeping weather.  

[windycityparrot]

Why do green parrots have no green feather pigments and why are their feathers different from other bird feathers?

Hi Mitch I recently inherited a Yellow Naped Amazon and love her to pieces, but not being a bird person previously, I could use some advice. He is guessed to be about 50 years old, actually, I was told that Rhoda is a female but, she has never laid eggs so they say she is a he! No matter, I have noticed some of his feathers have black coloring on them. Is it true that could be caused by him not getting enough sunlight? His cage is in front of a window, but the window has a sun screen on it. What is needed to provide "sun" for him in his cage? I would also like to purchase a "Happy Hut" for him but I need to know what size I should order.  Thanks for any help you can give me and I welcome any advice! Ginger Oliveira Hi Ginger Congrats on the inheritance - first off should you want to determine the sex of your Zon you can do so here with an easy DNA test for $18. As for the feathers, I’d start by saying if your bird has not been to an avian vet I would strongly advocate a trip to confirm the overall wellness of your bird. That said the color of a parrot's feathers is not so straightforward. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vdi8oIPjmNY Feather color is affected not only by the birds diet and DNA but by who's eyeballs are perceiving the color(s) For example if the bird doesn't have a healthy sheen to it, what you might be seeing is a dark blue but the appearance of blue light-scattering is diminished thus the blue may look muted (black).  It also could be because you’re not seeing the feathers in the correct light and so with the following warning - science lesson ahead - we will try to figure this out for you. Centuries ago (or so it seems) my youngest daughter who’s hair was a never ending explosion of red curls found herself in an elevator with me. She was four. As we were descending, the elevator stopped and a woman entered the soon to be vertically moving cubicle. Before making the turn to face the front of the elevator which apparently is a rule, she looked at my daughter and said: "oh a carrot top" Alix looked her straight in the eye and with as much indignation as a four-year-old could muster, she set the record straight by exclaiming "carrots are green on top!" We all see life through a different lens.  Feathers are considered integumentary structures (organ systems that protect the body from various kinds of damage, such as loss of water or abrasion from outside) which include hair, scales, feathers, hooves, and nails all found in vertebrates. We mere mortals have to rely on complex man-made things like clothing to even begin to mimic the performance of feathers which includes flight.

They promised me a personal jet pack in the 60s. I even watched some knucklehead fly one from the balcony at McCormick Place for some event in my youth. Come on - you’d trade in your not-so-smart-phone for a jet pack in a New York minute?   Feathers enable birds to fly. They provide insulation against the elements. Add waterproofing the list, not to mention that for many species mate selection is based upon feather quality  Feathered factoid: someone who studies feathers for living practices “Plumology.” You need two things to create the incredible colors of parrot feathers. Pigments and a certain micro structural arrangement must exist within the feathers tissues (it’s a light reflection thing that you’ll learn about shortly).  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6VdVAipRgvA Pigment colorization in birds comes from three groups: carotenoids, melanins, and porphyrins. Birds (non-parrots) metabolisms are not able to produce the carotenoid molecule. These molecules come from what a bird eats.  Feathered factoid: Pigments have been found to help boost a bird's immune system and provide antioxidants.  Parrots and parakeets represent a little less than 8% (about 700 species is our final guess) of the 9000 to 10,000 species of birds on the planet (take that - dog). So it should be no surprise that parrot feathers have their own class of feather pigments called psittacofulvins.  These parrot-centric pigments are like the carotenoids found in most bird species. They provide the reds, oranges or yellows. Because you won’t find psittacofulvins in a parrot’s blood it is assumed that these pigments are actually synthesized along with feather growth within the follicular tissue. anatomy of a bird's feather  Unlike the color of flamingos feathers which are determined by their diet such as shrimp (which is also why shrimp turn pink when boiled) and algae both high in carotenoids, parrot feather color is unaffected by said carotenoids.  Using cool science gadgets like liquid chromatography to look at red feathers on almost 4 dozen species of feathered parrots, researchers discovered that all red feather parrots use the same suite of five psittacofulvins for the red color in their feathers. If a particular species had a higher concentration of psittacofulvins it had redder feathers. Speaking of redder, sometimes you can have too much of a good thing. If you really want to show your commitment as a caged bird breeders go to the bank today and cash in your kid's college funds because for a mere $100,000 you could tell the world that "red is the new grey" Click here to see this beauty in your home by the end of the week This is where hybridizing feather color runs off the rails.

File under please stop screwing with mother nature. Walk down the hair color aisle in any big box store and you’ll see a mind-numbing rainbow of available hair colors. The manufacturers of these hair colors may have taken a cue from parrots because red parrot feathers alone occupy a huge range of the color spectrum.  You’ll find light pink feathers in Rose Breasted and Major Mitchell Cockatoos having a counterpoint of the deepest of red feathers on Lorikeets. All on the same continent. Something tells me there’s an evolutionary correlation here. Which begs the question - if the majority of parrots are green where is the green pigment coming from? Surprisingly there is no green pigment in parrot feathers. Although a bird’s green feathers appear to be green they are only harboring red and yellow pigments (no orange).  This is where the aforementioned melanins come into play. Melanins determine the lightness or darkness of feather color. Melanin pigment colors are black and brown which turns up and down the shades of a particular color.  How many times in the history of the universe has a child asked a parent “why is the sky blue?” “It’s because of something called the Tyndall effect Johnny.” “Thanks dad, what’s for lunch?” Really that's all you had to tell your inquisitive youngster? They already knew the answer because every kid now has access to google but they asked the question just to annoy you - FYI.  The Tyndall effect occurs when the shortest wavelengths of visible light being blue get scattered broadly across the atmosphere making the sky appear to be blue. Light reflecting off the feather structure is perceived by the combination of feather structure and internal chemistry aka psittacine pigments aka (parrot) carotenoids or psittacofulvine's and the "perceived" feather color is attributable to the Tyndall effect. Remember ...."microstructuralangement must exist within the feathers tissues?" That's the structure to disburse the colors (via light) that you perceive the feather feather colors as. 

Speaking of blue, a blue parrot like a Hyacinth macaw has no psittacin which is what makes it blue. And that porphyrines thing - the third factor. In birds other than parrots, porphyrines help generate red, brown, green and even pink in a number of birds.

Unlike parrots, porphyrines make Turacos (a group of African birds - above) green as an example. we need to move on - end science lesson  It’s good that you want to find proper lighting for your bird. Sunlight is more important to birds than most cage bird keepers realize You can find our birdcage lighting solutions category here.  Windows can be good news bad news for parrots. The good news is the light that they allow in the activity to help keep things interesting for the bird. Sunlight is good for birds but the light coming in through any glass window filters out all the UVA and UVB which may be helpful to your birds overall well-being. Assuming you live in North America the changing of seasons & daylight savings time can wreak havoc with a South American bird’s physiological stature. This is why we like to see full spectrum lighting on a timer for every caged bird.  The downside(s) to the window thing is the problem with predatory birds (hawks, falcons) flying by - your bird may see and does not understand the concept of glass. Self-destructive behavior like feather plucking could be triggered by the unwarranted stress. Further, parrots being prey animals, feel far more secure when the cage is against one or preferably two walls.

 The Happy Hut thing I would suggest you hold off on this for now until you get to know your bird a bit better. What we don’t want to do is encourage brooding activity. But we do want to encourage his socialization with you as opposed to hiding out in its own little tent.  Amazons are highly socialized animals and really enjoy engaging conversation.  Hope that helps  written by mitch rezman approved by catherine tobsing your zygodactyl foot note via GIPHY Click to Post