#either leave or slap the shit out of carmen
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sydney scene episode ten thoughts n shit below ‼️‼️
okay, so. syd sees the review from her braised cola short ribs and risotto on her fridge in the last ep, and begins to see all her beef/bear family and moments take over.
i think carmy has become this thing where… he’s sydney’s greatest inspiration and greatest de-motivator. carmen doesn’t know how to properly critique and show people how they can do better without being incredibly intense in a way that takes you down a few inches at the knees.
i don’t think he realizes who he is, so he doesn’t realize the impact his actions have on people in a professional capacity.
syd’s relationship with carmen reminds me of a friendship that i used to hold onto that was genuinely poisoning me. this friend of mine would generally be very mean to me, in a dismissive kind of way, that made me feel like she couldn’t care less about what i was doing, while simultaneously making me feel like i wasn’t enough to be around her. BUT. she’d have these moments where, we’d talk and she’d be so kind and we’d have this great back and forth. but then that conversation would end and the next one would start and we’d be back where it started.
it took me forever to leave that relationship because, we still had our good moments right?? we still had those moments where she was so sweet and everything was good, and that balanced out the hundreds of other times she would make me feel like literal shit. but it’s not! it’s not worth it!
syd and carmy have these fleeting moments in between moments of absolute insanity, and i think syd holds onto those little nuggets of joy as proof of “look! he cares i swear i swear he does!” to justify staying. but it’s not enough.
i think she knows that. it’s so hard to to come to terms with that feeling and that relationship, but sometimes it just is the truth, and you have to go! but letting go in this case means losing the family she fought so hard to make her own. and i think that’s enough to make her freak and think “do i believe i deserve more enough to leave it all behind and start over?”
#i think i was a bit too mean to carm in this but… idk im right low key#i believe in you sydney adamu#you do deserve more#either leave or slap the shit out of carmen#the bear#sydney adamu#carmy berzatto#ayo edebiri#jeremy allen white
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i have decided to break my lack of original posting on this blog to bring you my Thoughts on Rot in Paradise. because i played it as soon as i got up this morning and i have scoured for some opinions after finishing it, and now i have my own!!
(and also i posted this on twitter but twitter has such a Shit wordcount that i'm also posting my things here with More Detail)
so! spoilers under the cut, please go and play the game if you haven't. it takes literally an hour (it only took nearly 2 hours for me because i like voice acting by myself and exploring every nook and cranny) and it's also free. so maybe come back into the tag once you're done.
okay, so i noticed quite a number of people being confused and disappointed on the lack of an explanation for the monster. it's brought up in the story as the central thing driving the plot, but it's never explained on what "she" is, why she's compelling people to eat a ton of fish-related food or hell, metal, and why this doesn't impact June at all.
but you know what I think?
i think that that's the point. the focus of rot in paradise isn't supposed to be on the monster.
yeah, it's the thing that pushes the plot along besides June and the gang going on vacation in this island. it's what's causing that uneasiness from the moment that guy grabs June's arm at the drinks, to the sheer unnerving feeling of witnessing people going to the ocean to get Raptured basically. i know i personally felt a chill when i saw that one dude literally eating chains and the other hauling an anchor, as if they're trying to make themselves heavier so they get taken by whatever She is.
but that's not the main point! the main conflict is about June and her friends.
as people have pointed out, this game is about toxic friendships and relationships! it's foreshadowed in the conversation that June has with the gang about her cousin (which i will also get into), and it carries it through the way her friends are horribly warped by this ocean Creature. June goes on a silly little vacation trip with her friends only for them to become so so different from themselves that they lash out at her and even hit her in McCoy's case.
but she still sticks it out with them. through the whole game, even despite their verbal abuse, despite being slapped, despite them being people that she can hardly recognise. she stays with them for the whole game, up until the point where you are given the two options at the very end. and she could still stay with them.
because they're still her friends. she cares about them even if they still hurt her. from the way June still tells Carmen to tell June if she needs anything after Carmen literally tells her to shut up and leave, the way June worries about Vonnie eating seafood even though she continues to stuff herself despite being implied to either hate or make an active choice to not eat seafood, to the way June still trudges out to sea screaming for McCoy to come back to the shore as he wades further in even after he slapped her until her nose bled.
it mirrors the conversation about her cousin, the reason for why June was looking forward to the vacation. that while she did comfort her cousin through all of it, June clearly says that "they were dickheads, and she should have ditched them a long time ago".
but it's funny, isn't it? that June, an outsider to her cousin's friend group, easily sees the pain that her cousin's friends are causing her, and immediately calls it as it is. that her cousin should have left the second they hurt her.
and yet now, when her friends hurt her, even though this was a quick and sudden change that happened in a span of three days, June still sticks around. her friends are dickheads right now, and we can see that in the way they interact with June, but she still stays.
because they're her friends. and how could she just leave them like this if it's something that's causing them to be this way?
so no, i don't think the monster is supposed to be the main picture. we don't need to know what it looks like, or why it needs to do this to the islanders, or how it's even doing it in the first place. it adds to the scariness of the game, as per the Spooktober Game Jam, sure, but that's not the point. might be a bit disappointing to some, but that's not the point.
the point is about June, and the choice that she needs to make at the end of the game.
it's a choice on whether she chooses to be pulled deeper into the tides and be with the friends who hurt her and will continue to hurt her in this way,
or to leave them to their fates, whether deserved or not, and resurface to a world where she's alone without her friends.
and even though the first choice hurts much more in the long run, doesn't the second hurt even more in the moment? knowing that you're alone at the end of all of this?
even if it is the right choice, i'm sure the pain must be unbearable in the moment.
#Rot in Paradise#Rot in Paradise Spoilers#RIP Spoilers#Studio Investigrave#this game isn't supposed to have a happy ending i'm sure. june's gotta deal with it no matter the ending#also because its not super relevant to the contents (more spoilers in tags)#i also see people speculate on why ryan just upped and went in as well#people say its possibly because he tried helping too much that he got sucked in (which i can see it!)#but also i'm wondering if he was sorta on the fence in terms of being got by the monster?#yeah he was on june's side but there was that moment at the bar with the woman and the metal shrapnel that he went-#“uh don't know about that but it did look like a huge chunk”. like he's sort of wavering on it?#but also i wonder if june's words on sunday night got to him. where she thought that maybe von mccoy and carmen were right#and that they were wrong. did that get into ryan's head? did he second guess himself?#did he go into the ocean wanting? leaving after giving june one last reminder of him (the jacket) as some sort of comfort?#man i don't know. but this game do be getting the cogs turning.
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The further and further, I drifted away from the Glee subreddit, the more I realized how toxic the environment was, and the more I realized how that toxic environment was created by Rachel fans most of the time. It's funny to me how a lot of Rachel fans on there moaned about how hard it was to be a Rachel fan and how they got so much hate for supporting her, when they were the same people who hated on Santana and Quinn relentlessly and caused a lot of those fans to leave. The nail in the coffin was their inability to take accountability for any of Rachel's wrong doings, use things not even related to the discussion to make Rachel look better and speak in circles until the poster criticizing Rachel would be defeated and either delete their post or stop trying to discuss their perspective.
They're quick to call Santana out for her bullying on the show but I see a lot of Rachel fans behavior on that community and their treatment of people who criticize Rachel or like Santana or Quinn as bullying behaviour or at least crossing the threshold towards potential bullying. Thoughts?
Because in their heads Rachel's just the poor victim who everyone's so mean to.
I have so many issues with this thinking. Because for one, Rachel isn't the only one who gets bullied, they ALL do. The only times Rachel's "made fun of" by the group other than Santana is when she's being insufferable. Even Quinn stopped being outright mean to her after the first half of season 1. You can't claim Rachel's the victim when the only reason they're snapping at her is because she's being genuinely annoying.
She's been her fair share of nasty to everyone else. She was never above commenting on others' appearance ("Ken and Barbie? Are you trying to throw this?") or putting others down ("The only job you're ever gonna have is working on a POLE") or being racist ("This is GLEE Club not CRUNK Club") or threatening people ("I will SO slap you again") or insulting someone behind their back ("I can't believe you're standing in the corner of a failure like Carmen Tibideaux"). Midn you, this is all stuff she's said. I haven't even mentioned the shit she's actually done.
I've always said this, but Rachel is JUST as bad as Santana and Quinn (but they're pretty and popular so they're automatically she-devils and poor Rachel has it worse because she's a LOSER- Rachel fans are fucking pick-mes). Which was fine in seasons 1&2 because she actually did try to be better. But at some point that stopped and Rachel was allowed to say and do whatever she wanted with no real consequences because everyone forgave her anyway.
For some odd reason, the Glee subreddit can't understand that
#anti rachel berry#rachel berry critical#i like her most of them time#but the glee sub excusing all her awful actions while shitting on everyone else ruined her for me#anti glee subreddit#the undertones of that sub aren't pretty#like they aren't outright racist or homophobic or ableist but they definitely have that implication#considering how they treat woc#and how they treat brittany#kurt even catches strays for some reason#anon ask
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Mean It When You Swing It
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Summary: For @caruliaweek. Prompt: Confession. After two years, Carmen arrives at Julia’s doorstep with a bouquet of red roses. She finds a nightmare instead. Tensions ensue.
---
The first bouquet was a prank on Carmen. Carmen wanted to do something nice for Julia, to thank her for her infinite patience, for blindly doing what Carmen asked without protest, and for doing so without prying. Carmen wanted to do something nice for Julia, and people give flowers to each other, right? They are given to performers after their shows, and to graduates after their ceremonies, and to the sick so that they might feel better. They are given to parents and children and friends and partners. They are given in grief, and they are given in thanks, and they are given in affection.
There was a florist down the street from Julia’s flat, so there Carmen went.
“Whatever they are, they have to be red,” Carmen murmured as she regarded the dizzying collection. There were so many different shapes and sizes, in so many hues, and it was making for a more complicated task than she first thought. In her ear, the sounds of Player’s constant keystrokes blend into the background when he speaks (he once explained something about microphone settings and sound engineering, but most of it went over Carmen’s head).
“How about red roses? Nine of them?” And even through the mic, she could tell that he was smiling.
“Only nine? Okay,” Carmen said and she asked the florist for a bundle.
“Wait, really?” Player almost shrieked, but his sound settings came through yet again to normalize the volume.
“What’s wrong?”
“Uh, nothing.”
And that was that. It was only after the artifacts were set in front of Julia’s door, and after the doorbell was rung, and while they were on the plane out of Poitiers, that Ivy gently took Carmen’s elbow, steered her out of Zack’s earshot, and asked if Carmen meant to leave red roses for Julia.
“Flowers are flowers are flowers, right? Should I have left different ones?” Carmen asked.
Ivy’s mouth formed and ‘o’ and her green eyes grew wide with dismay. “Oh my god, you really don’t know.”
“Know what?”
Ivy clenched her jaw and scowled. She reached into her pocket, took out a small padded case, and unzipped it to reveal her Team Red earpiece. She plugged this into her ear, stood hands akimbo, and glared at Carmen’s left earring.
“Player,” she growled out. Carmen had never seen her so mad before; not even at Zack. And Player made a high-pitched squealing sound that she’d never heard him make before either.
“I didn’t think she’d actually do it!”
“God-fucking-dammit, Player! You know that Carmen doesn’t know about this kind of shit.”
“I’m sorry. But can you honestly tell me that red roses were the wrong move to make?”
“Do not try to worm out of this.”
“What do they mean?” Carmen asked. Ivy froze. Player too, fell silent. There was nothing but the drone of the plane engines around them.
“What do red roses mean?” Carmen asked again.
Ivy told her. And then she returned to Zack to give Carmen some time, and Player went radio silent for the same reason, and Carmen remained in the back of the plane, thinking.
Did she mean to give red roses to Julia?
---
Today, Carmen picks up a similar bouquet and signs the card with her name—her real name—and her hands take on an unnatural tremor. She flattens them against the counter, slapping the pen down in the process, and tries to distract herself by watching the florist tie a ribbon around the bouquet. They pull the free ends of the ribbon against the back of the shears to make them curl, then present the flowers to Carmen with a wink.
“Thanks,” Carmen says, weighing the flowers in her arms. Is this only nine roses? It seems heavier than she remembers.
“Good luck.” The florist takes the card and carefully tucks it into the tiny plastic trident bundled with the roses, then waves Carmen away with a smile. Carmen turns and continues down the street.
Carmen used to think she knew what love was. That at least Coach Brunt loved her the way a mother would love a daughter. She knows now that she didn’t. It was the kind of love that one has for a stuffed toy, or a limb, or a tool. She was beloved only because she belonged to VILE and did as she was told.
While she suspected that it wasn’t really love, she didn’t have confirmation of it until she met Carlotta Valdez. She believed that the woman who had captured her father’s heart had to be remarkable and she was right.
Her father gave her mother red roses. Usually a single rose, and sometimes a dozen of them at a time, but Carlotta preferred the single roses. She would tell Carmen how Dexter would break into some poor neighbors’ garden with a pair of shears in his back pocket, and how he would methodically choose the right one.
The neighbors entered their roses into competitions, so they soon learned to get dogs and guns. But Dexter never failed to get a rose. Not only because he was that good, but because he liked to see the look on Carlotta’s face when he presented them to her, and because he knew that no matter how beautiful the rose was, that Carlotta would always be lovelier.
Could Carmen love someone like that? The idea is…well. To be honest, she’s still not sure what love is and what love looks like, but she feels signs of it when she thinks of Player, and Ivy and Zack, and Shadowsan. She feels signs of it when she thinks of Carlotta. She likes to think she could. That she’s capable of it.
Could Carmen love Julia like that?
She would like to try.
Carmen carefully shifts the bouquet in her arms and crosses the street. Julia moved back to Oxford about six months after the raid on VILE headquarters. According to Player, most of VILE were round up by then, and the remaining work that ACME could scrounge up didn’t have anything to do with historical artifacts, so Julia had run out of reasons to stay.
Does Julia still drink tea? Does she still wax poetic about Older Futhark and Coptic?
Is she happy?
The apartment complex is really a collection of handsome brownstones that surround a small courtyard. There’s a barbecue pit set in concrete, and a swingset almost hidden amongst some trees. Two children make a circuit on their bikes, and a woman watches them while she idly pushes a toddler on a swing. Carmen avoids them as best she can and reaches Julia’s door. Music comes from inside; the radio, judging from the overlay of a DJ’s commentary. Carmen reaches up to press the doorbell and hesitates.
Two years and no word. No call, no text. Not even a letter. Two years.
Carmen takes a deep, steadying breath. It is unfortunate, but she had always intended to talk to Julia. Sooner than now, yes, but she did want to talk. She just…lost track of time getting to know her mother. To tell the truth, two years is not enough, but they have the rest of their lives. If Carmen didn’t come to see Julia now, then when would she stop by? In three years? Five?
Yes, it’s been two years, but Carmen is here now. She reaches up and presses the doorbell. There’s a muted chime from within, and a vague shout and footsteps, before the door is pulled open to reveal Julia.
“Hello?” Julia says, her eyes and face bright as if recovering from a bit of laughter, but her smile fades when she sees who it is. Her other hand comes up to cover her mouth.
“Carmen?”
“Hey, Jules,” Carmen says. The both of them stay like that for a moment, letting the music wash around them. The smell of roasted meat wafts around them too, as if Julia were interrupted in the middle of cooking dinner.
Julia’s dark hair is shaggy and ruffled. Carmen doesn’t remember if it’s always been that length, and she just carefully brushed it down for work, or if she’s growing it out. It looks good on her regardless, but then again, Julia could make anything look good.
“Who is it? Is it a package?” An alto voice sounds from within the flat. From the kitchen, wiping their hands on a rag, comes someone wearing an apron over their lean frame. Their dark, medium-length hair is tied back to keep it out of the way. At the sight of Carmen, they go very still, their brown hands still tangled in the kitchen rag.
It’s as if an ice cube has been dropped into Carmen’s stomach.
Julia looks nervously between the two of them. “Mars, this is Carmen, an old friend of mine. Carmen, this is my significant other, Mars Dakila.”
“I know,” Carmen says.
The first time Carmen saw Mars, she was sixteen on VILE Island. Back then, Mars Dakila was Cricket Bat. They arrived at the island and were shut away with the faculty for about an hour before they left with the Cleaners. The students of that year said that Cricket Bat wasn’t a thief at all, and Carmen had wondered why they were affiliated with VILE in the first place if they weren’t a thief.
She got her answer later, after Ivy and Zack had joined her crew. Sharkhead Eddie’s gang had taken over Darryl’s Donut Hole after all, and Carmen meant to break into the vault housed within and burn all of the counterfeit money. When she broke in, however, she found bodies instead. About five men were slaughtered, the dark blood pooling on the white vinyl, and she followed that trail of death to the vault, where Sharkhead Eddie gurgled wetly as he bled out on the floor. Cricket Bat stood over him in their spattered suit, with stained bolo knives in their hands, and dispassionately watched him die.
There was a newspaper article afterwards. The cops said that it was a mob battle, and Carmen supposed that in a way, it was, because the conflicts between VILE and the rest of the East Coast criminal gangs stopped after that.
Now, Cricket Bat, sorry, Mars is a scant seven feet away from Carmen—from Julia—and wiping their hands as if they’ll ever be clean. Julia steps between them, and Carmen blinks. She looks up at Carmen with a half-hard, half-pleading expression and the cold in Carmen’s stomach spreads through the rest of her body.
“We’ve met before,” Carmen says.
“In a different life. Do you want to stay for dinner?” Mars asks. Julia’s eyes widen as she tries to stammer something out.
“I’ll set another plate,” Mars says, and they disappear into the kitchen. Carmen watches them go, and when she’s certain that they’re out of earshot, she leans in towards Julia.
“Jules,” she whispers.
“Yes, I know. But they’ve changed,” Julia whispers back.
Carmen doubts that very much, but Julia continues.
“I swear they’ve changed. If you stay for dinner, you’ll see. Carmen, please.”
“Fine.” Not to see proof of this miraculous turnaround, but to get to the bottom of whatever the hell this is. Something is going on, and Carmen is going to save Julia from it if it’s the last thing she does. She straightens up and takes another deep breath. Julia slumps with relief.
“These are for you.” Carmen holds out the bouquet, and Julia’s eyes flicker with…sadness? Pain? She takes the flowers and cradles them against her chest, then gives Carmen a soft smile.
“Thank you. Would you like to come in?”
Julia moves to let Carmen inside, and goes into the kitchen. Carmen slips her converses off and sets them next to a shoe rack just inside the door. Julia’s heels and flats are there, neatly lined up, but there are also sneakers and brogues that do not belong to Julia. The hooks on the wall above carry two coats and two sets of keys. Carmen ventures in further, her horror growing by the second. Between the front door and the kitchen is enough room for a small dining table, and opposite the table is the living room. In the living room, on the wall above the sofa, is a collection of framed photographs. Carmen recognizes a couple pictures from Julia’s office in Oxford. There are also other people that have Julia’s eyes, or her nose. There is also a picture of Julia and Mars.
It’s a candid shot, judging from the blurriness and the tilt of the camera. Julia’s glasses are askew and she’s laughing. Mars, their face mostly hidden behind Julia’s, presses a kiss to her cheek. Carmen’s stomach lurches dangerously.
CLICK. The music stops as the radio is turned off.
“I’ll just get another bottle from the corner store, Babe,” Mars says as they head towards the door. They pull off the apron and toss it over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. Julia follows them, carrying a vase with the roses.
“I’m not sure that wine will ease this situation at all,” Julia says.
“We won’t know unless we try.” Mars slips on a pair of trainers, takes one of the sets of keys and turns to give Julia a quick kiss. “Be back soon.”
And with that, Mars leaves, shutting the door behind them. There’s an awful silence. Julia nods her head, like she’s psyching herself up, and turns to face Carmen. Her cheeks are pink.
This cannot be real. This…no. This is a sick joke. A prank. Ha ha. Carmen numbly watches as Julia sets the vase on a deep windowsill next to an old Skyflakes tin with a bunch of succulents planted in it. She beckons to Carmen, then returns to the kitchen. Somehow, Carmen finds the strength to follow her.
The kitchen is an organized mess, as most kitchens are while they’re being used. There is a bowl of mashed potatoes, a tray of roasted broccoli, and rack with two steaks. The sink is piled high with utensils. Julia takes a covered baking pan from the fridge. She uses a pair of tongs to take a steak from it and the places it in a skillet on the stove, where it starts sizzling. Julia puts the pan back in the fridge, sets the tongs off to the side, and looks at Carmen expectantly.
“Is ‘Mars Dakila’ even their real name?” Carmen asks.
“It’s their real name now,” Julia says. She turns the overhead fan on and returns to the skillet. There’s sauce in it too, and she tilts the skillet a little so that it all gathers to one side. Julia takes a spoon and begins scooping the sauce over the steak bit by bit, making sure to baste the entire thing.
“Does Player know?” Carmen asks.
“No,” Julia says.
“Do Ivy and Zack know?”
“No. And they don’t need to know.”
“Listen, Jules. I don’t know what they told you, but I know for a fact that they’re VILE. Faculty sent the Cleaners to clean, but they sent Cricket Bat to make messes. I….” Carmen pulls her hands down her face. “They’re dangerous, Jules!”
“Perhaps that was true two years ago, but they teach escrima at a local gym now. They’re reformed.” Julia picks the tongs back up and flips the steak, then continues scooping sauce. Carmen cannot believe what she is hearing.
“How long have they been conning you?” Carmen asks. Julia gives her a sidelong glance.
“They’re not conning me.”
“How long, Jules?”
Julia sighs through her nose. “We celebrated our one year about two months ago. Does that sound like a con to you?”
“Some cons go on for like seven years.” Carmen fights through a rising tide of guilt and desperation. Oh she is a fool. How could she possibly think she could go to Argentina for two whole years and expect everything to be fine? What an idiot she is! What a moron! And now Julia is completely blind to the danger she is mired in.
“It isn’t a con, Carmen,” Julia insists. She picks the tongs up one last time and uses it to prop the steak up on its side against the pan. She holds it upright and moves it a little every now and then to finish the sear.
Carmen could just…leave with Julia. She could just throw her over her shoulder and take her somewhere safe.
Julia sets the steak on the rack along with the others, then turns off the stove and the fan. She leans against the counter, her head hanging in defeat. “Carmen, why did you come back?” She asks in a hushed voice.
“What?”
“I mean, why now? Just as I was starting to…. I was finally….” Julia raises her head and Carmen doesn’t think she’s ever been the target of such longing. Unbidden, Carmen steps closer, and Julia’s eyebrows scrunch together as she continues to gaze up at her. Julia’s hand comes up as if to touch her arm, but she falters and it drops away.
“Jules,” Carmen breathes.
“You disappeared. I wasn’t surprised because that’s what you do, but then you stayed disappeared and I….” Julia drops her gaze. “You deserved to rest. You deserved to meet your mother in peace.”
She says the last part in near monotone, as if by rote.
“And I wouldn’t have been able to do that if it weren’t for you. I should’ve thanked you when I got that file. I should’ve thanked you sooner,” Carmen says. Julia’s cheeks turn pink.
“That wasn’t me.”
“I know it was you, Jules. Thank you for finding her.”
Julia waves it away, her blush spreading to her ears, but she asks, “is she nice, at least?”
“She’s wonderful.”
A bittersweet smile spreads over Julia’s face. “Good.”
Come with me, Carmen wants to ask. Julia could meet her mother and see for herself. But the front door opens, and Mars returns with a paper bag in hand. They slip their shoes off and put the keys back on the hook. Julia steps away so fast, it’s as if she’s scalded herself. She skirts around Carmen and goes to Mars. Carmen resists the urge to take her arm.
“I know you don’t like super dry wines, so I got a merlot,” Mars says. Their brown eyes light up when Julia comes near, and they hold the paper bag out to her.
Julia takes the bag and rucks it down to read the label on the bottle. “Not bad.”
“See? I know what I’m doing.” Mars kisses her cheek and—to Carmen’s dismay—Julia returns it. She does it absently, out of habit, before she catches herself and freezes. But Mars is already stepping around her and towards the kitchen.
“Was there enough sauce left for a third steak?” They ask.
“I managed it all right,” Julia says.
“Cool.” Mars comes to a stop just out of arm’s reach and tilt their head as they regard Carmen. “Sandiego.”
Carmen’s last name hasn’t been Sandiego in a long time, but she’s not telling them that. “Dakila.”
Behind Mars, Julia shies away as if witnessing an impending car crash.
“Would it be better if I ate with a butter knife instead of a regular steak knife?” Mars asks.
“You could make a plastic knife dangerous, Dakila.”
Julia gasps. “Carmen!”
Mars grins at Julia over their shoulder. “It’s okay, Julia. I’ll eat kamayan style if I have to.”
The name rolls so easily through Mars’ mouth with such familiarity and with such affection that Carmen must resist the urge to tackle them to the floor. Somehow, she unsticks her feet and moves out of the way.
---
The dining table is a small, rustic thing covered in scuffs and dents. To save on space, one end of the rectangle has been pushed against the wall. Julia sits at the remaining short side, and Carmen and Mars sit opposite each other.
While Carmen has never eaten dinner while within three feet of a serial killer, she has had worse evenings before. At least the food is good.
“But because I’m taking more classes than usual, my advisor expects me to graduate in three years, not four,” Julia is in the middle of saying. “I honestly didn’t think that I was taking that heavy a course load.”
“‘Doctor Argent,’” Carmen says, testing out the title. Julia ducks, her face going pink again. “It sounds nice.”
“My students already call me that, even though I tell them not to.”
“You still teach?”
“All phd candidates do. Just the introduction courses though, so it’s just the basics.”
“But you still love it.”
“I do.” Julia beams. “You know, I wouldn’t be able to do all of this in the first place if Mars wasn’t around. They take care of everything.”
“Do they?”
Mars has been mostly quiet all through dinner. They have a knife and fork after all, but they take care to keep their hands above the table, and to move deliberately and slowly. Once in a while, they’ll smile at something Julia says, as if sharing a private joke, or they’ll answer in short sentences, but that’s about it.
“Well, they do most of the cooking and the cleaning because they happen to like cooking and they happen to be rather fastidious,” Julia says.
“It’s the strangest sugaring arrangement I’ve ever been in. I’ve never paid anyone with chores before,” Mars says. Julia gasps and swats their arm, making them squawk.
“You absolute scoundrel! Don’t say that when we both know how whipped you are.”
Mars laughs. They laugh and their eyes light up again. “True! You’re probably the only person on the surface of this planet who could make me do anything.”
Carmen’s insides twist horribly.
After dinner, Carmen helps Julia clear the table and put the leftovers away. Julia ties the garbage bag shut with a double knot and tugs it free of the bin. Mars steps up to the sink and Julia tsks.
“Oh Mars, I’ll take care of those; you did most of the cooking.”
But Mars lathers the sponge and starts washing the dishes anyway. “It’s okay, Babe, I’ve got it.”
“I’ll help them,” Carmen says. Mars glances at her from the corner of their eyes.
“Really? Okay.”
Carmen takes a kitchen towel and stands at the dish rack next to Mars. Julia stares at them.
“You can’t be serious,” Julia half-whispers to herself, then louder, “Behave! Both of you.”
“Of course, Babe,” Mars says.
“I mean it,” Julia says, glaring at them both. “I will not come back to a dead body, understand?”
Mars smiles at her. “Yes, Julia.”
“Sure thing, Jules,” Carmen says.
This seems to mollify her, and she leaves to toss the garbage in the complex dumpster. Mars and Carmen wash and dry the dishes in silence. They pass the pans and the dishes first, and also the cutting board.
“You’re using Jules to escape ACME,” Carmen says. Mars’ eyes flicker, but they continue to wash.
“It certainly started that way, but then they stopped being a threat and I kinda…stuck around. Julia’s a remarkable woman.”
“Does she know how many people you’ve killed?”
“I don’t do that anymore; I promised her I wouldn’t,” Mars says as they place the trays and glasses into the rack.
“Oh, like that’s enough to stop you from killing again.”
“Be as skeptical as you want; I don’t care what you think. What matters is that Julia believes me.”
“What kind of sob story did you tell her to get her to trust you?” Carmen asks.
Mars shakes their head and starts cleaning the utensils. “I can’t believe this,” they mutter under their breath.
“Jules deserves better than to be swindled….”
“No, you know what, Sandiego? You just left her. You left. You wanted a fresh start and you got a fresh start and when you got it, you decided that there was no room in it for Julia. You decided that.”
By miracle, Carmen manages to not drop anything despite the shaking of her hands. Who the hell does Cricket Bat think they are to talk to her like this? As if she doesn’t care about Julia. Like she isn’t terrified that one day, she’s going to find out that Julia’s dead because Mars got tired of her, or didn’t need her anymore.
Because no matter what Mars says, they must be pulling a con. They have to be. They would never admit it, and if they passionately exclaim how much they ‘love’ Julia and it happens to sound genuine, then either they’re a very good actor, or they’re starting to buy their own con.
“How long did you expect Julia to wait around for you? Five years? Ten? Assuming you came back at all,” Mars continues.
“If Jules wants to be with someone else, fine. She deserves to be happy. But not with you. You’re a murderer,” Carmen says.
Mars glances at the vase of roses in the windowsill. “Maybe Julia shouldn’t take advice on her love life from you. Gotta say, green is an awful color on you, Sandiego.”
Carmen’s hands freeze above the utensils drawer. Everything else has been put away except one final steak knife. She holds the handle loosely between three fingers, and with one movement, she could just let go. She could drop the knife into the drawer.
Drop the knife, Carmen. Julia has been gone for several minutes now, so she’ll be back at any moment.
Drop the knife.
Beside her, Mars stands before a bare sink, hands empty except for a dishrag that they wind around their forearm in preparation.
“Mean it when you swing it, Sandiego.”
#caruliaweek#julia argent#carmen sandiego#carulia#julethief#carjules#carmen x julia#carulia week#my writing#also on ao3
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Radiation Poisoning | Chapter Nine
by @starman-john-tracy and @asteria-star
In which John Tracy gets exposed to uranium and nearly dies, The Hood is evil, and Star generally freaks out a lot.
Chapters: [One] [Two] [Three] [Four] [Five] [Six] [Seven] [Eight] [Nine] [Ten]
Situated as it is, in the centre of the villa, underground, the Medical room has no windows, and so it’s hard to tell what time it is without sunlight streaming through them. There’s no morning opening of blinds on Thunderbird Five either though, so it’s not dissimilar in any way, to look at the chronometer on the bedside table to work out if it’s still too early or not. Star blinks awake with the sinking annoyance of realising she’s in the medical room, but it feels like a more normal time than when she’d last opened her eyes. She feels wrung out and shaky and sore but not nearly as badly as other times she has woken up in this bed.
John. She lolls her head to the side, looking for the astronaut.
The shift has changed again, and it’s Virgil, not Grandma who waves at Star across the room. She grimaces; he looks worse than she feels.
“Morning.” Virgil clambers to his feet with a smile and retrieves a big mug of hot cocoa off the counter. “Get that down you, it’ll boost your sugars.”
Star cringes at his choice of words, too, but takes the mug when it’s offered. Someone’s replaced her finger monitor with sticky pads across her chest, and Star can’t actually remember if she was awake for that. She holds up the handful of cords at Virgil with a raised eyebrow.
“You can’t take that off until you’ve had a normal heart rate for twenty-four hours.” He tells her.
Star snorts. “Wonderful.”
The curtain’s been removed completely and across the room she can see John, flat on his back, fast asleep, the rise and fall of his chest soft and even. He looks thin and ill.
“He’s been pretty restless all night.” Virgil catches where she’s looking. “I was expecting him to be out like a light with all the healing his body needs to do, but I think he must have been having some rough dreams.”
I can imagine, Star thinks to herself, fiddling with the mug in her hand.
“Tell you what,” she tells Virgil, handing back the mug. “I’ll keep the monitor on, and drink that without mentioning coffee, if you let me sit in the chair.”
Virgil frowns at her like she drives a hard bargain, but she ends up at the head of John’s bed anyway, cords trailing behind her and still very firmly stuck to her skin. She gives John's hand a squeeze, then slumps back in the chair with her feet up on his bed, taking back the cup and taking a sip. She seems more human today, less an expression of panic.
“Sorry about all the chaos yesterday… I did genuinely think I’d sleep it off,” Star gives him a wry apology. “How is he? Aside from the sleep?”
There's a tired, rolling shrug of the man's shoulders, dismissing her apology and indicating his uncertainty all at once.
"Not in a good way." He admits, "But he's stable and responding about as well as expected to immunotherapy but, well... his test results came back indicating the cells in his marrow are affected." Virgil sighs like the weight of the world is trapped in his lungs. "He's gonna need a transplant. I'm testing the boys at eleven."
“Star, I… look," there's no easy way to tell her this, "with the strength of radiation John’s been exposed to, fifty percent of patients who receive care… they die anyway.” Virgil's trying to be clinical and professional, but he can’t keep the low, awful fear from his voice. His body language is nothing but worry, all tense and strung out and shaky. “We can’t… We’ve got to be realistic Star. Prepare ourselves for the worst, even if we don't want to. I don’t know if you realise it, but… He’s very ill. I… I'm gonna do all I can though." His fingers bunch into fists. "I'm not giving up on our John just yet."
Star watches John while Virgil speaks, a blank expression on her face, nodding along thoughtfully. By the time the dark haired Tracy is finished, though, she’s looking at him sadly. “It’s not all on you, Virgil. None of us are giving up on him. You look like shit, by the way.”
There's a rough laugh from Virgil.
"We should get you a mirror." He gives her a wobbly grin, "I could do with some breakfast." There's a slap of his plans against his knees as he decides to stop stewing in it and to be proactive. "Do you mind watching John if I pop upstairs to grab something? I can get you something too, if you want, you're probably hungry. Ah… No caffeine for you though, not for the next twenty-four hours. Sorry." With the heart palpitations she was having, that's probably wise.
John, the sneaky idiot, keeps his eyes closed in a feint of sleep until Virgil leaves, listening guiltily as his brother vents his worries to Star. He waits until Virgil's gone on his breakfast hunt to crack one eye open, and -
“I know you’re awake,” Star tells him before the eye is even open. He peers up at her, wondering if she’d seen him move, but her blue eyes are still watching the door Virgil had just disappeared out of.
Sprung. John open’s both his eyes with an amused sigh. Star’s gaze creaks around to him, one eyebrow raised.
“Ah, should have known you’d see right through me.” He’s got a faint, tired smile all ready for her. “Are you alright?” he asks.
Star almost laughs at him.
“Am I alright?” There’s a shake of her head, dark hair shaggy and falling out of the plait it had previously been tamed in. “John you… you heard all that right? You’re…” She trails off, not wanting to put the word dying into the fragile air between them. A pale, skeletal hand raises toward her, in a silent plea for her to take it. She sighs, taking her feet off the bed and propping herself on her knees to reach over and hold his hand, intertwining his cold fingers with her own.
“I know.” John says, ever so softly as she does. “It’s ok.”
And there are droplets on her cheeks and why’s she the one crying when he can’t even find the strength to get his head off the pillow. She scrubs at them, furious with herself.
“I’m sorry.” It comes out as more of a sob than an apology. “I’m s-so s-sorry.”
Thin, cadaverous arms curl around her back and gently encourage her down into a hug, still half in her chair, a tangle of cords between them.
“It’s ok.” John’s voice is sick-weary and soft, but somehow still so warm and comforting. “It’s going to be ok, Carmen. I promise.”
“How can you promise that.” She beats a fist weakly against his chest, next to where her face is buried, the top of her head tucked neatly under his chin. “How can you possibly.” Another sob.
Shaky fingers tangle themselves in her hair, and John makes a rough shh-ing kind of sound, like he’s cradling a baby brother, not his resident criminal. She can feel his heart beating, fluttery, under her cheek. A cold mouth presses hard against the top of her head. “Shh,” He whispers into her hair, “It’s all going to work out ok.”
"I’m so sorry. I left you in there…" She begins, shaky, but John, it seems, is having none of it.
“It’s not your fault.” He tells her, gentle and even as ever, and Star can’t help but snort.
“There is absolutely no way in hell you actually believe that,” She pulls back so they’re eye to eye, subconsciously putting distance between the two of them, her lip twisted in a self-depreciating snarl. “I left you. That is the definition of my fault.”
John tries to smile at her, but she isn’t entirely convinced it isn’t the saddest expression of all time.
“Do you remember right back in the beginning, when we first met, and I ran re-entry?”
Star’s willing to play along. “You do that a lot.”
It’s John’s turn to chuckle, winding down into a grimace. “I had your file, Virgil had noted to be careful of the scar from your stab wound, that you weren’t fully healed. I still ran the re-entry, I still tore your stomach open, you still almost died.”
“That wasn’t your fault,” Star chewed on her lip. “You couldn’t have known that was going to happen.”
“And you couldn’t have known this would. In fact,” John tries for humour, “I’d say that was more my fault than this is yours. I had specific instructions not to do what I did.”
Star doesn’t seem to find it funny.
“Point is,” A thin hand reaches out to curl around hers, “You need to stop blaming yourself for things out of your control. You did everything textbook, you got me home safe. The only blame for this whole situation should land squarely on the shoulders of The Hood.” There’s a crack in his voice, like he’s stumbling over the name. "A-alright?"
The stagger in his words isn’t exactly subtle. Star rests her free hand against the side of his face, fingertips in ginger hair and her thumb tracing the constellation of freckles across his cheekbone. Pale lashes flutter shut in response, a breathy, slightly wheezy sigh escaping his chapped lips. Star scoots her chair closer to the bed, unhooking a monitor lead from where it had been looped under her knee. Without windows or outside air, with the mechanical hum of air conditioning rattling away in the roof above their heads, it’s almost like being back on Thunderbird Five, where its just them and their time, where the rules of the outside world don’t apply, and they can just exist with the stars John loves so much. With a sharp pang in her chest, Star wonders if he’s ever going to see them again.
They sit like that for a long while, Star watching John’s lax face, almost convinced he could be dozing until his brows twitch together in pain, then smooth, then together again.
“Talk to me,” Star says softly, and it’s almost a plea. “Please? Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I…” There’s a moment of deliberation in John, opening his eyes again to stare at the ceiling above them. “Sorry. I mean… I’m kind of, uh… honestly I think I’m… scared.” It seems to take an awful lot to voice that, unsurprisingly, as John Tracy is a man whose hardly afraid of anything. The island’s spiders? Whatever. Trip into orbit? No problem. Throw yourself into the endless unforgiving void of space with limited resources, time and a whole bunch of people to save? The Tracy’s call that Tuesday.
“I keep thinking about, you know,” Fingers on his neck, atmosphere leaking out, radiation leaking in, that man’s sick smile as it happened, “but I mean, I’ve got this, like uncertainty too,” He takes a breath like, talking is hard - but it’s not the illness that’s incapacitating him. “Of what’s gonna happen next, you know?” He’s afraid. Of the meds, of the procedures. He’s afraid he might die, “I mean, I’m sick of being so tired already,” He chuckles, warm and loose as he squishes his arms around her. “Sounds like I’m just going to have to get used to that though.”
“Yeah…” Star sighs, as if she somehow can read his mind; as if she can see all the big things hiding between the few words he gives her. “You’re allowed to be scared. It’s… understandable. You just also need to know no one’s going anywhere, okay? Whatever… whatever ends up happening, we’re all going to be here. You’re not going to be alone, and no one is going to-” hurt you, she almost says, but that would be a lie. This whole mess is going to hurt him, and there’s nothing she can do about it. “The Hood isn’t going to get anywhere near you ever again, if he does I’ll break both his arms,” John lets an unconscious laugh slip at that, pitched a little too high to be much more than covering his anxiety, “and we’ll get Brains to figure out some kind of release system on the helmets on the spacesuits, so they can’t be taken off by just anyone," John shivers visibly, "and every time you so much as get a bandage changed I will be here, holding your hand or sitting in the corner being annoying if you say you want to be alone because we both know you’re lying when you say that. This isn’t going to be something that just fizzles out, okay? You’re John Tracy, you’re not an astronaut or a Thunderbird, you’re a miracle worker. Everything you ever have done has been a miracle, and everything you ever will do is a miracle, even if that's-” holding on for as long you can.
She can’t bring herself to finish the sentence, throat thick and her pulse thudding in her chest, too fast and too hard and all for him, as if maybe she can share some of that life with him, to make him better.
But the world doesn’t work like that.
“And…” His voice is very small, “And what if I can’t give you a miracle, you know, this time…?" It seems almost impossible, insurmountable, "What if...” He trails off.
If, he thinks, the worst that Virgil seems to fear comes to pass. John’s heart hurts at the thought there’ll be no more gentle walks along the beach, no more birthdays with his brothers at the planetarium, no more late nights on the roof with Alan or races in the pool with Gordon. No more Thunderbird Five and space monitor duty with Star. John’s got a strong suspicion that his life from here on in is four walls and pain medication until he either beats the destruction of his own cells or dies and that’s… that’s a pretty grim thought. He doesn’t think he can bear to dwell on what might happen after he’s gone either. Would Star take on Five? Would Eos run her? Would his brothers be able to cope without him? Would…?
He makes a small, upset noise, deep in his throat and presses his cheek into his pillow, trying to shut down the line of thought before it overwhelms him completely.
“Then we’ll deal with that, too.”
Star takes one look at the monitor she’s still attached to, murmurs fuck Virgil, and tugs the leads roughly from her chest. John watches her, some inkling of what she’s about to do already springing to his mind from all the times she’d done some variation of this before. Forever tolerant, he lets her.
“Don’t move, I’ve got it,” she tells him, even as the world sways around her and her knees waver, nearly tipping her on her ass as she climbs over the railing and into his bed. Being more careful than she ever has in her life, she plasters herself beside him, a little higher up so that he can rest his head back on her shoulder, against her jaw, planting her lips against his hair. She brings one hand up to brush through his hair, the other taking back the hand she’d had to drop for her little show of acrobatics.
“You know that I love you, don’t you John?” She murmurs after a long while, then continues with “If Virgil kills me for any of this, I’m blaming you.”
“I…. yeah.” He’s too tired to reach up and find the fingers that are carding so affectionately through his hair. The soft motion is rapidly sending him toward sleep. He's quiet and pliant for a long moment. There’s not many people in the world who John would trust to watch over him like this, to card their fingers through his hair, press against his skin, to hold his hand in comfort. The total number is sharply limited to people on this island, and that's both a bit sad and quite lovely, to be trusted.
"I think you’re pretty great too.” There’s a ghost of a smile on his lips. “You can tell Virgil it was my idea if you want." John advises her, loosely. “He’s soft on me at the moment.” And rightfully so. His head tips in toward her and his cheekbones are hard ridges tucked in the column of her throat. His face feels hot, like his temperature has spiked again. His own blood cells are burning him from the inside out though, so it’s probably to be expected.
“Favouritism,” Star accuses him, breaking off into a hum when his face is pressed into her throat.
"Mmm," He makes a small, tired noise, settling in against her, with little inclination to move again, "you caught me."
She keeps up the steady rhythm through his hair, feeling him relax in increments, his breathing easing out to something a little more mechanical as sleep teases him. His skin is hot against hers, but he doesn’t seem any more distressed than previously.
They must have slept late, Star realises as her eyes drift back up to the clock. It’s about 10:45, Virgil will be back soon to prep his brothers for what is likely to be one of the more uncomfortable mornings of their lives.
There’s a little time, at least, to coax John back into a quiet doze, the spaceman warm and languid as a lazy ginger tomcat in her arms. The sleep is an improvement on earlier, thanks to the little chat they’d had, but it’s not completely undisturbed, as pain crinkles his brow and makes him wiggly, all uncomfortable and snuffly, in his sleep.
When Virgil walks in, freshly scrubbed from a good hot shower, to find the both of them in the same bed with John’s arm slung across Star’s stomach and her legs tangled all around his. There are a lot of leads detached but, with them like this, he can’t bring himself to do much more than roll his eyes at the pair. He creeps quietly toward them, giving Star a little wave when he finds her awake, but staying silent in the hopes that John will continue his rest. He holds up a bowl of short, soft pasta tubes, all browned yellow with cheese and steaming, and grins as he hands it over, the fork so deeply embedded that she has to twist the cheesy goodness all around to yank it out.
He does pick up her leads with a pointed, disapproving frown though, waving them at her as if to say really? Again? She doesn’t seem much worse off for not being all hooked up though, with much more colour in her face than when he’d left them, so Virgil concedes and gently peels the sticky pads from her skin, trying to be careful not to disturb John as he does so, who's got his head tucked neatly into the crook of her elbow and his back pressed along the length of her chest.
Better? He mouths at her, then, quietly: “The boys’ll be here soon, starting with Scott. You gonna be ok with that?”
Star sets the hot bowl to the side, gesturing Virgil closer with the twitch of her finger. He looks confused, but complies anyway. Once he’s in arms reach, she takes his chin between her thumb and pointer, twisting his head this way and that to compare the side of his jaw that Scott’s elbow had connected with. After a moment of scrutiny, she’s satisfied, and lets him go.
“I’m okay with that. I’m a very civil, well-behaved person… haven’t you heard?”
Virgil snorts.
He checks John’s monitors, pottering about, disconnecting some leads and replacing the blood bag with a fresh one for transfusion. He tops up his vast array of medications, carefully filling and injecting a number of needles and trying not to wake John while they deliver their payload. Tired to the bone, the astronaut sleeps on, even as Virgil pressed a little cotton pad down hard to the injection site.
“Hey, sit up while you eat.” He squints at her, privately thinking it might give Scott one less point of contention if they’re not all tangled together by the time he gets here.
Star looks like she’s about to tell Virgil where he can stick that idea when John shuffles in his sleep, muffling a low moan in Star's arm. She shushes him softly and doesn’t move. Her hearts started up an unsteady little jig in her chest at the thought of the samples, the boys having them and the results that might come from it. Any appetite she might have had evaporates, and she hands her food back to Virgil.
He looks despairingly at her, but takes it before shaky fingers drop it all over John.
“You’re not hungry?” He worries, “You’re as bad as he is.” He nods at John, though he needn't have, as they both know he’s had nothing but IV fluids since he got down. “I’ll leave it here in case you change your mind.” He sets the bowl ever so carefully on the little side table, next to where someone seems to have decided to leave John a holoprojector that’s displaying a miniature, spinning version of the globe he loves so much, pinpointed with little GDF logos, evidently to assure him the world isn’t falling into catastrophe while IR is on minimal duty. “It’s important to have a good meal to keep your energy up…” Virgil goes on, “Though I could make you some of John’s plain oatmeal later, if you’d rather. He gets through cupboards of the stuff after touchdown,” There’s a wry grin, “so maybe that’ll be easier on your stomach too.”
“Are you getting tested as well?” she asks, probably to distract him from trying to get her to eat the mac and cheese. Then; “You gonna be okay?”
There’s a lilting, rolling shrug of Virgil’s shoulders.
“Let’s just hope Scott’s a match.” His smile doesn’t meet his eyes. “I really don’t want to have to test Gordon and Alan too.”
Star’s heart sinks at the thought of the youngest two having to go through that, even though it’s for John’s benefit.
A short, sharp knock on the medical room door leaves them no more time to chat, Scott Tracy poking his head around the door jamb to check if John’s sleeping or not.
He’s not prepared, at all, for the sight of Star all tangled round his brother.
Star, for all the antagonism in her blood, has never hated Scott. Not before the incident yesterday and, despite some residual pettiness, not after it. In all honesty, she gets it, she really does. The problem is just the overlap in who they’re willing to come out swinging for, and their different perspectives on keeping those people safe.
And besides, She’s not about to start World War Three with John's brother.
“Good morning…” she says. She even tries to smile at him.
The one thing she doesn’t do, is let go of John even a little.
Evidently Scott’s still feeling sheepish about yesterday, as he sets his jaw at the sight and gives her a curt nod, striding long-legged across the room to plonk himself down on the bed that Star had escaped been occupying earlier. His eyes are hard with mistrust, but, to do him credit, he doesn’t vocalise any of it.
“Thanks for this Scott.” Virgil’s ever so warm toward his brother, despite the fact that, if it’s to help John, there’s really no other option to any of them. “Can you lie on your side for me? I’m gonna try and make this as quick as possible.”
Scott pauses, just for a moment, his eyes flicking up to where Star is curled around his brother. It’s enough of a hesitation that it’s clear that he doesn’t want her watching him when he’s vulnerable. Virgil rolls his eyes theatrically, and gives Star a little wave as he pulls the curtain back across with a shing of metal curtain rings along the rail.
“You didn’t have to…” Scott goes to protest, blustering in what he obviously thinks is a manly kind of show of things. “Don’t you need to keep an eye on John?”
“John’s being taken care of.” Virgil points out, very soft and with a tone that brokers no disagreement, “Don’t be such a baby.” Star hears a light slap of a hand against a shoulder and Scott grumbles something unintelligible under his breath. “Yeah, will do.” Virgil is shuffling about over there, “Roll of your side for me, yeah that’s it. Take a deep breath and let it all out at once. Relax as much as you can. Good. Now, how high can you tuck your knees up? Alright, that’s it, you’re going to feel a kind of pressure and maybe a slight burn… tell me about the maintenance you were doing on One?”
“The maintenance on…? Ah.” The needle has obviously slid home. “Urgh, what do you want to know about One for?”
To distract him, clearly, but Scott doesn’t seem to catch onto that.
“Well we’re both stuck here for the next few minutes,” Virgil offers as a deceptive explanation, “might as well make the most of it and catch me up.”
There’s a few more minutes of soft banter between the boys and chatter about the upgrades Scott’s been installing in One’s cockpit during his downtime (because, really, there’s no better stress relief for any of these boys than their toys), before Virgil is capping up the sample and cracking a heat pad for Scott to hold to his sore back, over his hip.
“Thanks Scotty.” Virgil clasps his arm and gives it a grateful squeeze. “Let’s hope it’s a match so that I don’t have to call Gordon down.”
“Fingers crossed.”
He strides from the room far less gracefully than he entered it, and Virgil wanders round the curtain to grab a testing kit from one of the well stocked metal cupboards. It’s only five minutes before they learn Scott isn’t a match. Virgil sounds awfully apologetic as he gives Gordon a call over the Comms, who, to his credit, bounds down quite readily, injecting a little bit of sunshine into the room even as a numbing agent is injected into his back so the procedure can start. He gets a heat pack and a hair ruffle for his pain and is sent on his way so that Virgil can repeat the testing process. He seems to get a little more tense with each brother he goes through, and when Gordon doesn’t prove to be a match for John either, Virgil’s jaw locks tight.
“Sorry Allie.” Reluctantly, Virgil puts in the call, “I’m gonna need you down in the medical room as well.”
And so Alan completes the steady trickle of Tracy’s being tested. He is, by far, the worst to have to put through the process. He makes an awful little gasping whimper as the needle slides in, that, thank god John wasn’t awake to hear because he’d have been jumping out of bed to be by the kid’s side if he had. Virgil murmurs a soft litany of reassurances and apologies the whole time, running his fingers soothingly through the duckling down fluff atop his baby brother’s head.
When Alan’s results come back negative too, Virgil looks totally distraught - and not just because now he has to go through the procedure too.
“Brains,” The third Comm call clicks through, “I need you down in the medical room, if you’re free. We’re… we’re gonna have to test my marrow too.” He looks kind of green about that. There’s gonna be a whole tribe of Tracy’s with sore backs now.
Star can hear the dejection in Virgil’s voice as he speaks into the comm, and her blood runs cold. Virgil is the last biopsy before they have a real problem. He’s fidgeting at the end of John’s bed, alternating between glances at his brother and the door Brains will be appearing through.
“Virgil…?” Star tries to ask, but he fixes her with a tight smile and disappears back behind the curtain. That doesn’t bode well. Virgil looks far more anxious than his brothers had, even Alan, but then again… Star has seen security footage of him getting shots (the terrible two had been out for embarrassing revenge, long story).
Brains comes into the medical bay without knocking, and is even more sheepish than Scott, refusing to even look at Star where she lounges in a sliver of space on John’s bed. The astronaut is still dozing, and mostly shuffled off Star. She can hear the rustling of Virgil getting ready for the biggest needle of his life, and Star makes a decision.
“A-Alright Virgil?” Brains is ever so kind about the whole thing as he snaps on latex gloves and sterilises the area on his back in preparation. “Y-you ready?”
Virgil eyes the long, thick needle with surprising trepidation. He wouldn’t call it a phobia as such, the way the sight of them makes the fine hairs on the back of his neck prickle. He can use them just fine and his hands never shake when sliding them into someone else’s veins, but when one is pointed at him, that’s when the issues start.
“Let’s just get this over with, Brains.” He’s bowstring tense even though he knows that only makes it hurt worse.
Before Brains can actually start though, the curtain flickers and Stars head peaks around the corner.
“Hello,” she steps into the little corner, holding her arms out in front of her as if she is presenting them, then promptly stumbles over her own feet. “I’m here to donate my hands for holding, or even crushing, if you need it.”
She pulls the curtain back at the head of the bed, so they can keep an eye on Johns sleeping, but Virgil is still afforded him privacy. There’s a chair by the bed, and Star drags it over to sit, cross-legged, in.
“Come on, big guy,” she offers Virgil her hands, smiling as he takes them with no hesitation. “You got this.”
Determined to lead by example, because what kind of medic is he if he can’t put himself on the receiving end? Virgil sets his jaw and takes a deep breath, squeezing Star’s hands hard as Brains gets to work.
“Geez,” He lets out the breath he’d forgotten he was holding all at once, “Ouch.” He’s downright miserable that he put all four of his brothers through this already. He should have just sucked it up and got Brains to test him first. What kind of Thunderbird is he anyway? He squeezes his eyes shut and grips Star’s hands and just tries to breathe through the whole thing. His face has gone sheet white. It seems like it’s forever until Brains is sliding the needle from his skin (and thank god the man’s hands don’t tremble like his voice does) and applying pressure to the little puncture wound. Star would pet his face or arms like she did with John, only Virgil’s white knuckled grip has taken both her hands hostage, and he is not letting go.
“C-Can I get you a h-ho-heat pack, V-Virgil?” Comes the tentative offer and it’s all Virgil can do to nod, tensely, his voice apparently having gone completely missing. A band aid is applied, followed closely but the sweet, blessed heat of the snapped pack, which leeches its heat out into the sore, aching muscle of his back.
“Better, thanks.” Virgil’s voice sounds dry. “I should probably get up and test that.” He goes to move and it’s pressed back down with surprising strength (or is it him who feels weak?) by Brains’ gloved hands.
“S-Stay there just a moment.” The engineer advises, wisely, “Y-You’re going to p-pass out if you g-get up too quick.”
“You heard the boss,” Star reaches over Virgil to hold the heat pack in place, releasing Brains to clean up. She glances briefly over her shoulder to make sure she can still see John sleeping, before looking down to give Virgil a smile. “I remember you saying something about fifteen minutes to John.”
“Ugh…” Is about all he can say to that, because it’s a very good point. “...Alright.”
Brains takes that as the cue to make himself scarce, murmuring an apology and some explanation about something he’s working on down in his lab, and disappearing out the door.
To say Virgil doesn’t look happy about what had just happened is the understatement of the century, and he’s still gripping Star’s hand tight enough like he really, truly believes he can solve all of his problems if he manages to break her fingers. He looks sad, especially now that he’s stopped moving and ordering tests and fussing about everyone else. Her heart sinks, especially thinking about his response when she’d hugged him the night before, and she can’t help but wonder how much sleep he’d actually gotten while holed up in his room.
“Can you, like, take a deep breath and relax a little?” Star asks of him with a rueful smile. She doesn’t say anything about her hand.
Virgil doesn’t last the full fifteen minutes before he’s too restless to lie there another minute, and Star concedes trying to force him down will cause more harm than good. She keeps a hand on his bicep, helping him upright, and leaves it there as he sways slightly at the edge of the bed. The paper white sheen to his face turns a clammy grey when he’s upright, eyes squeezing shut, but he manages to stay conscious.
“You alright there?” Star questions, leaning back a little to give him a once-over the way someone might look at what they are sure is a shoddily balanced card tower. “Are you sure you should be running this test right now, or should you be resting?”
“I can’t wait any longer.” He breathes out hard through his nose trying to bring enough oxygen up to his brain to stop him from completely passing out. “I’ve got to know if I’m a match for John or…” Virgil shakes his head, cutting himself off, “I’ve got to be a match.”
“You’re not gonna be able to find out if you can't even see straight.” Star clicks her tongue at him, but he seems nonplussed.
“I can do it.” He shrugs her off, a little more coldly than she’s come to expect of him. He must be really stressed about this, and for good reason.
There’s five or so minutes of Virgil, clipping the tube into place in the analyser and extracting plasma and running a whole spectrum of tests, before a tinkle of breaking glass cuts suddenly across the silence.
Virgil seems to have dropped the vial into the metal sink and it had shattered.
He crashes into a plastic chair, looking suspiciously close to tears.
Oh. It wasn’t an accident.
“I don’t match.” His voice comes out hoarse and disbelieving, “John needs a marrow transplant and none of us are matches. How are none of us matches!?!”
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HENRIK LILJENQUIST—
IG info/Bio: @/adventuresbyhenrik | 53.1k followers — “imma wild boi🌿🌏🧗 | happily taken👩❤️💋👨
23 (24) years old
Parents are both Swedish and only speak Swedish, leaving henrik to also become fluent
His father Halvi is a pilot
His mother Lova is a race car driver
Siblings? Probably a brother, named Jahan & younger by two or three years + they get along quite well
Born & raised in Isle of Wight, England + loves it there & thinks it’s the best place for him to live, it’s his own private island in his mind plus he’s always finding something to do. He stays active
Climbing & wilderness survival instructor, he gets to talk as much as he wants while also teaching people AND all while being active! Sounds like the perfect job for him
Probably developed ADHD around his pre-teen age, leaving his parents to find him something he enjoys + can slow down and focus on
used to be on meds for it
Was well-known in high school, probably in the yearbook club since he was able to run around & get to know people but was kinda shit at knowing the functions of a camera
His selfie game has gotten a lot better now but he mostly posts anything but his face. You’ll see more of his face on his stories & location shots on his feed
Feels his hair is his best physical feature & his prized possession, would never THINK about cutting it. Even just a trim is a bit much for him
Always tries to be positive but at the same time can be condescending since he sometimes won’t pick his words wisely ex.) when he gave MC a backhanded “compliment” about makeup, being active, + wanting them to “think of others ” feelings — just because someone is opposite from you doesn’t mean you have to shit on the way they carry themselves...that’s my issue with him
maybe he’s a Taurus?
Loves fall & spring, more so fall since that’s when the weather feels nicest to him plus allergy season is a REAL bitch
The guy’s real Adventurous & always managing to find something to do. If you’re ever bored just hit him up, he has plenty of recommendations 
Family owns a cottage & he’s the one who goes out there more than his own family does! “You should just sell it to me at this point!” He tells his parents over dinner often & it is strongly considered
Has five birds & a husky, when he goes on road trips they’re always with him. Which can get a little hectic at times but they’re his family, he’s a, “birdog dad”
BLAKE secretly dislikes them all, feeling like they take up space sometimes (especially when she wants to cuddle) but she deals with it since she cares for the guy — yes, they’re still dating
She’s been convincing him to cut a few inches off of his hair which he took like a slap in the face, “that’s like me asking you to quit speaking up for humans!” “No, no it’s not.”
They’re polar opposites with flaws which causes disagreements between the two of them by putting each other in their places but they learn to compromise? (*insert eartha Kitt gif laughing here*] if they want this to work
His mother seems to be the only one who dislikes blake (she strongly feels he should have bought MC back home...that’s right she watched the show from time to time. Not always since she doesn’t care for reality tv but her friends encouraged her to watch bits and pieces) while his dad and brother approve
It is tense when Blake and his mom are in the same room which makes Henrik sad since he believes Blake deserves a chance. He took a chance on her and it seems to be going pretty well so why couldn’t his mother just be happy for him like the rest of the family is?
Henrik loves his low-maintenance girls who are open to trying new things with him, Blake is usually down most of the time but she likes her personal space too..which henrik struggles to understand
He wants her to live with him, he’s sure his parents will let him have the cottage if Blake decides to live with him but Blake loves her freedom in Kingston
It’s hidden but I feel like he might be one of those guys that feels like “a woman should follow a man” since that’s what his father installed into his boys— which failed because his wife isn’t just a housewife, she has goals and went after them
I feel like Blake turns to social media almost always to post about her feelings (I can’t remember what I picked the first time around as my occupation but as I’m currently playing I picked human rights campaigner so) but it’s mostly subtle shade & it always goes recognized by fans which brings drama between her, mc x Bobby
Henrik jumps in because what kind of guy would he be if he didn’t have his gf’s back? Doesn’t care for the drama but he & Bobby usually said slick shit to each other in the villa, it’s safe to say they’re not really friends but they’re not enemies either that’s mostly between their gf/wife
Henrik doesn’t care enough about Bobby to dislike him but he won’t put up with his shit any longer and what easier way to do that than online? He feels like they can settle this with a phone call but Blake & MC aren’t with the shits and don’t want their men speaking to each other
Henrik & Bobby eventually have a chat in secret anyways
Henrik warns Blake that this can effect her job status if she doesn’t calm down since she uses social media for her cause
She usually knows when to stop but can’t help it if it slips out sometimes
They talk it out and move on usually with whatever fun idea henrik may have
Owns a ford bronco from the 90’s that used to be his uncle’s who builds tree houses for a living and is still running, a jeep gladitor, or some sort of pickup truck
Knows how to make the best apricot jam
All about saving the bees
Loves animals, probably on his journey to veganism if he’s not already there
We all know this fucking guy likes eating M0sS
“Embarrassing fact” but uh big fan of twilight, feels like Seth Clearwater and him are meant to be best buds but he also stans the Volturi 😷
Him and Lucas of course remained the best of mates, since they live 2 hrs away from each other and are always busy living their lives they always have to plan out when they can hangout but that fails 60% of the time when henrik pops up at Lucas’ job or at his flat not giving him a choice but to hang out
They’re always vacationing together too? Sure Henrik is his own version of low-key while Lucas likes a bit of luxury...they still find a balance to just have a good time regardless if they live different lifestyles...they’re basically married
Always texting if they’re not hanging out, henrik with his memes that Lucas doesn’t understand & Lucas just checking in on henrik’s well being which leads the conversation to many topics
He’s actually cool with Gary now? They like/comment on each other’s posts & even text here and there
Even ran into Rocco once on a road trip, that was interesting but when life gives you lemons...we’ll just say that
Even him and Ibrahim share recommendations through text or DM’s which is nice! Henrik is always down for friends even tho they’re not like his personal friends (except for Lucas, he fits into his criteria)
Most of his work is physical and talking but he goes the extra mile by hiking every Sunday either with his friends, Blake, or family — he’s genuinely likes being one with nature
If he’s at the cottage, he’s always outside, chopping extra wood, making sure the yard looks like it belongs on a magazine, or takes the boat out on lake to nap since he doesn’t like to fish as much anymore
Currently trying to grow strawberries but some animal keeps eating them :/
Adores adventure time, the x-files, bobs burgers + animal planet, and travel channels—like he’s a real dad
If he could shower outside everyday, he would, it’s such a freeing experience to him
His outings consist of being in the woods 24/7 so in his mind when he brings Blake out there with him, it’s a version of a date, whenever they spend time together is a date to him, which she has to remind him that she wants to do something different like getting dressed up every now and then + go out to dinner which he HATES but he’ll do his best to please her, as long as the restaurant is more earthy than snobby he’s okay
100% would survive the apocalypse, he knows how to make due with what he’s got, he’s always been that way
Enjoys rom-com’s so he’ll laugh at how cringe they are but still enjoy it, indie films, ALITA was the best film of 2019 to him & currently his fav film is, “the call of the wild” with Harrison Ford
His favorite films ever are Indiana Jones, Lara Coft: Tomb raider, Terminator, and I am legend
Aliens ARE real, they’re out there and he’ll be part of the reason they’ve been exposed
I feel like he wanted to be an astronaut growing up but then realized he’d be a confined space for long periods of time and said cancel that shit lol + he isn’t the greatest at science. History? He did real well in that subject
I think he loves Lorde, listens to Bon Iver—especially on early morning commutes to work, Rex Orange County, Omar Apollo, Joji, the nbhd, the driver era, kid cudi...yktfv
Celeb crushes?/types: The main girls from Charlie’s angels 2019, Alexa PenaVega... “you know Carmen from spy kids?” Diana silvers, Dove Cameron, JAMIE CHUNG, & VANESSA HUDGENS
Anthem = Wallows, “OK”
#litg#litg2#litg s2#litg henrik#litg au#litg headcanon#litg headcanons#litg Blake#litg Lucas#litg bobby#litg mc#edited cause I wasn’t aware the mans was actually Swedish oops
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The King’s Pet Princess- Royal! BTS x Reader Series Part 5- Yoongi 1
REQUESTS FROM PROMPT LIST- RIGHT HERE!
READ PART ONE | READ PART 2 (NAMJOON) | READ PART 3 (JUNGKOOK) | READ PART 4 (HOSEOK)
Since no one had a name for Y/N’s pet lion....I guess I’ll have to choose and shame on you.....
We’re gonna name the lion Carmen. Gotta problem? Good.
LEGGO! (i’M NOT GETTING RID OF THE LEGGO IT’S STAYING FOREVERRRRRR)
WARNING! There will be certain themes in this...uhhh read at your own risk. This is for you guys who like getting treated like pure trash...I don’t know just read.
Leggo!
...
“Have you been up all night?” Rina stormed into the library where you were hiding.
“I’m focusing. I’m trying to keep myself busy.” you waved her off, only to have whatever book you were trapped behind taken away from you.
“You are tired, I can see it.” she sighed. “Bed. Now.” she pointed out the door.
“I’ll be fine.” you yawned.
“Bed!″ she huffed. “You can finish what you were doing in the morning!”
“Okay okay!.” you stumbled to your feet and made haste for your room.
You were so tired, but you had spent all day looking for books on how to take care of Carmen (please refer to part 4 for insight). How else were you gonna deal with a pregnant lion. Geez, this was just one big mess.
You stumbled, almost hitting the door.
“Ouch.” you said flatly, even though you weren’t in any real pain. You didn’t even bother to turn on the light, you just walked straight for the bed. It was along more sturdy than you remember and the sheets felt and looked different. Either it was the dark playing games with you or Rina changed your bed sheets.
You plopped on the bed, letting out a long sigh. You didn’t bother to change out of your day clothes. Yes, skirts were way too uncomfortable to sleep in, but you didn’t really care. At least not that this point. Why was this so difficult. Juggling between getting prepared to be a queen to a miserable kingdom it seems like worrying about your pets, you haven’t even heard from your family back home.
“I don’t know if I can do this.” You mumbled aloud. “I’ve never done anything like this before.” you groaned. “Of course I really should naturally know how to do such a thing. “you mused. “...but how can you tame that beast telling you that you’re going crazy and just take the plunge and do what you need to do for the sake of not going completely insane.”
Poor thing, she was suffering. She would be giving birth soon and you weren’t ready! You weren’t sure. You were human and Carmen was...well a giant 400+ pound lion. There was a tad bit of a difference.
You stared at the ceiling only to notice something was off. You sat up in bed as stared at the dimly lit fireplace which was just beginning to go out. The rug wasn’t the same color it was in your room. Instead of flowy ivory curtains in your room, you saw velvety black curtains. You also took the time to notice the white grand piano. You looked up, even the canopy bed looked diff-
Fuck...this wasn’t your room
“Hm...Pray tell...what beast are you exactly trying to tame.” you heard from behind you. You slowly turned your head to see Yoongi glaring at you. “Hm, finally decided to pay me a visit.” You felt his fingers trail up your spine. “About time.”
“Yoongi! I uh-HMM!” You tried to protest as Yoongi slapped his hand over your mouth. You could only hear your own muffle screams. You were suddenly pinned down onto your back. Yoongi’s hand was still over your mouth. He hovered over your body, a smirk painting on his lips. Him dark eyes bore into yours, setting a fire straight to your mind...or core..whichever made you look less helpless.
“You make it really hard to not do something to you.” he chuckled in your ear. “Unlike my other comrades....I don’t hesitate when it comes to striking my prey.” he spoke, right in your ear. His hand, still over your mouth. “Instead, had I gotten my hands on your first, the other boys wouldn’t even be able to recognize you. Imagine being marked and scratched to your heart’s content...how exciting.”
Thrashing wouldn’t do much, he was way stronger than you.
“I’ve been waiting for time to strike.” he chuckled, trailing his fingers under your skirt. “You’ve just opened yourself up to me. ”
“Hmm.” your leg trembled as you felt his knuckles brush against your clothed heat.
“I’m not about that teasing shit.” he huffed. “In fact, teasing pisses me off...oh I’m sorry, were you trying to speak?”
You quickly nodded, which prompted him to slowly removing his hand from your mouth. “I didn’t mean to come in h-here.”
Yoongi didn’t cease his movement, pressing his thumb against your clit. In fact, it chided him to carry on even more.
“Hm....don’t lie to me. You should know the route to get to your room well enough by know.” he chuckled.
“I got really sleepy....I-” you trembled. “Fu-” Your legs trembled beneath his touch.
“You’re foolish. I’m a man Y/N....Do you know what that means?” she cocked an eyebrow. “It means I’m hungry.” he growled. “And since I finally have you all to myself...I’m gonna rip you apart.”
“Rip me apart!?!” you squeaked. “What do you-”
Yoongi watched with a smug grin on his face as you sat up and scrambled to your feet. He partially expected that to happen, it only made him chuckle. Like he said, he was hungry and he finally had his turn to go after his prey.
“Now now...don’t run away from me, pet.” you froze in place. “....Hm..Come here.”
Hearing those words made you freeze. He sounded so authoritative.
“That’s right...come to me. Bring that pretty ass over here.”
You didn’t even notice your feet had started to move. You instantly stopped in your tracks.
“Alright...why don’t I come to you.” Yoongi threw the covered off and stormed up to you, pushing you against the nearest wall. “See what happens when a slave doesn’t listen to her king?”
He grabbed your leg and hooked it around his hip, all while pinning your arms above your head. “Now...let’s play together, pet.”
... (Time Skip)
“NO!” You ran away from Rina. “I REFUSE!”
“Breakfast is ready! If you aren’t at that table in the next ten seconds, then they’re gonna question ME!” she pulled your hand. “Why are you so afraid all of a sudden.”
You didn’t want to face Yoongi. If you were being honest, he scared you the most.
“No reason?” you squeaked. You didn’t want them to blame Rina for your antics. “Let’s just...get this over with.” you grumbled, following her into into the dining hall. You were almost certain you weren’t ready to face them...or him.
Rina practically pushed you into the seat, the only open seat, which was away from the exit...which just so happened to be right next to Yoongi. She gave you a weird look. You didn’t blame her, she really didn’t know about the incident.
“It’s about time you showed up. How bad did it get last night?”
“What?” you looked up in horror at Namjoon’s words. “I beg your pardon!?!”
Was he insinuating what you thought he was insinuating?!?!
“With your pet?...Pregnant Lion? Almost half a ton giant animal?”
“Oh....”you crossed your arms. “She’s fine.”
From the corner of your eye you could see Yoongi who was casually eating. He was acting as if nothing happened! You could only stare at your food, you didn’t dare look up or join in whatever useless conversation the other men were having.
“You seem off today, Y/N....I hope all is well.” Yoongi got your attention.
“...I’m fine.” you clutched the fork in your hand.
“Are you sure....I wouldn’t want you to be...troubled..”
You felt his hand on your thigh, which made you freeze. “If anything is wrong, my schedule is free today.”
You could feel his fingers inch closer and closer. His digits scratching against your clothed heat.
“I’ll be fine!” you instantly jumped to your feet. “Well I can’t keep Carmen waiting, you know...pregnancy...and stuff...” you didn’t say another word before you bolted for the animal stables.
....
Well, Carmen was doing just fine. Her due date was approaching but you were positive one more visit to the library would have you all set, so that’s exactly where you went.
“Come on.” you sighed. “I gotta get Billy out here and soon!”
Billy was your other lion, Carmen’s lion mate or whatever it was called. You were hoping to convince them to let you bring him, poor thing was probably so confused and sad when he saw Carmen on the carriage.
“Hm...” you mused, walking back to the book shelf. “What if I-”
Suddenly you felt something cover your eyes and tighten at the back of your head. “Hey!!” you began thrashing, but your captor had grabbed your wrist before you could move.
“Easy now-” you heard Yoongi snarl in your ear. “You make too much noise and we might get caught.”
“W-what do you want now?!” you tried your best to move. “Are you tying my hands behind my back!??! Hey! Stop that!”
“Since you walked out on me so rudely, yesterday, you’ll have to make up for it.” you felt your bindings get tighter and tighter.
“Make up for-....” you repeated. You felt his breath brush over the back of your neck. “Is this because-”
“You so rudely left me without so much as a goodbye...you must have been really caught off guard.” he chuckled. “You’re free to try to leave...but you can’t leave.” he cooed like he was talking to a baby. “Because you can’t even see.” he chuckled.
“Y-yoongi, listen. I know you’re very hands-on.....”
“I didn’t get a chance to have a taste of you yet, Y/N.....That isn’t fair.” you could hear the fake pout in his voice. You felt his fingers trail down your stomach. Yoongi kissed down your neck, trailing his soft lips up your flesh.
“....I said I went into the wrong room.” you shook in your shoes.
“...Hm....Sure you did, Y/N.” he sighed. “Just be a good girl and do what your king tells you to.” he grabbed the fabric of your skirt, hiking it up. His fingers creeped under your clothes, trailing down your warm skin.
“Hey! That’s not even fair.” your voice wavered.
“Since when did a king ever play fair?”
....
#kpop imagines#namjoon smut#jimin smut#jungkook smut#seokjin smut#taehyung smut#yoongi smut#hoseok smut#bts imagines#bts scenarios#bts au#bts smut#imagines#smut#namjoon imagines#jimin imagines#hoseok imagines#seokjin imagines#taehyung imagines#jungkook imagines#yoongi imagines#smut imagines#bts royal au#x reader#bts series#yoongi smut imagines#min yoongi smut#yoongi x reader#yoongi x reader smut#yoongi imagine
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oneshot #7 - dirty bathroom fuck - pt.2 | @minseoks-personal-trashcan
pt. 1 | pt. 2
Baekhyun/OC
Sequel to a request from @minseoks-personal-trashcan
Written by @idea-garden
This has been requested since I posted the first part, and we all know that was forever ago...
SMUT / 18+ / car sex / angry sex? / public sex / oral / orgasm denial / dirty talk / d/s / bdsm
3,800 words
SooRi left for a six-month internship. SooRi will never leave Baekhyun again...
If you like this like it, reblog it, and follow me!
This is trash.
ALL PROMPTS | SMUT PROMPTS | RULES | ASK | MY WRITING
SooRi stood outside her apartment door waiting for her rideshare to pick her up. The cool autumn breeze had picked up some and it made her shiver slightly in her nude bodycon dress. Finally, her ride came, the car’s lights cutting the dark sky. Collecting herself in the car, she gave the address, then sat back to observe the scenes outside the window. Everything she passed by looked so foreign and so familiar at the same time. Each place holding a different memory, giving her both nostalgia and nausea.
After a slow cruise, she reached her destination. It was her favorite restaurant. Ugh. She missed this place. She turned her eyes up at the bright place, took a breath, and slapped a few crumpled bills in her driver’s hand.
SooRi couldn’t believe it’d only been six months since she was last home. It felt good to be back. Of course, there was no place like home.
The fine dining establishment was set for dinner. Its floor-to-ceiling windows giving a beautiful view of the harbor. The decor was set in warm lighting. Cream carpet, cream chairs, off-white tablecloths, and various shades of gardenias were just a few aesthetic notes she observed.
This place was fancy. Too fancy. But, since she wasn’t buying, she had no issue eating there.
--
SooRi stood at the front of the restaurant, only waiting for a brief second before a hostess in a cute cocktail dress appeared before her. They exchanged brief smiles, as the hostess asked for a name. The restaurant was so exclusive that you could only eat there by reservation only. Apparently, according to her friend, you had to book at least six weeks in advance. SooRi appreciated the gesture. She was never one to want a big fuss to be made over her, but she had to admit it felt pretty great to be in the middle of the fanfare.
She stood for a second as the hostess scanned the seating chart, then guided her to a semi-private table set for six. Menus and neatly folded napkins were sitting on white plates that covered gold chargers. The hostess pulled out her chair and wished her a pleasant dining experience.
She was the first one to arrive to her own welcome back dinner. Typical--considering her immediate friend group. Jessi and Junmyeon were either doting on each other or having car sex in the parking lot. SooRi was convinced that Jongin and Chanyeol didn’t even know how to tell time. And Baekhyun… well he didn’t give a shit about anyone’s time except his own.
SooRi pulled out her phone, shooting a text to Jessi and noting the time. She was a little early, so she wasn't too irked. A response returned within two minutes. Her friend was on her way there--delayed traffic. SooRi told her it was no problem. She had the aching suspicion she and Junmyeon were definitely fucking in the car. However, SooRi knew her friend would never intentionally keep her waiting.
After about ten minutes, she saw Jessi and Junmyeon in lockstep carrying balloons and what looked like a neatly wrapped gift. Jessi passed her things to her boyfriend and enveloped SooRi in a tight hug.
"I missed you so much! I'm so glad you're back!" The pair teetered side to side as the hug continued.
SooRi had to chuckle, they talked every single day of her absence. There was a good chance Jessi knew more about her day than she did, but nonetheless it felt great to see familiar faces again.
"I'm glad to be back! It's good to be back with friends again."
Just as the words left her lips, Jongin walked up with Chanyeol in tow.
"There are my boys," SooRi pulled them in one after the other.
She noticed them dropping off little gift bags where Junmyeon had been previously.
"Have a seat guys! I guess we can get started," SooRi urged them to get comfortable.
She looked around the table with a smile, until her eyes rested on the empty seat.
SooRi knew she shouldn't have expected much from him, but she still wanted to see him.
"Where's Baek?"
"He just messaged me. He's on his way. He wanted us to start without him." Junmyeon reassured her.
He was probably still upset with her. She knew he had every right to be, but being on the receiving end of a cold shoulder was never pleasant.
--
The group eventually ordered their beverages and a palate cleanser. Meanwhile, Baekhyun sat in his car, deliberating whether or not he was ready to see her.
His thumbs twisted around the key fob as he was deep in thought.
She left him. She left him without a word. He didn't owe her anything, and she didn't owe him anything, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't miss her.
"Fuck it. I'm here now." Baekhyun slammed his car door on the way out, pissed he missed her as much as he did.
He spent no time waiting for the hostess to lead him to the table. He walked through with a confident stride. Dressed in fitted black jeans and a navy button down. The shirt, top two buttons open, gave a sinful hint of the body underneath.
In true Baekhyun fashion, he greeted the table with an off-handed comment before plopping down in the only empty seat.
Of course, it was the seat in front of her.
SooRi's mouth nearly went dry when she saw him. She hadn't seen him in six full months. Sure, she'd been stalking his Instagram, but nothing compared to the real thing.
Involuntarily, she clutched her dainty, gold necklace, rubbing it--most likely praying for the strength to make it through this dinner without crawling across the table to get on top of him.
He gave a smirk and reached across to her wine glass, taking a sip from it, daring her to react to him. He was truly a piece of work.
‘Lord, give me strength,' she mused as a strong breath filtered through her nose.
--
Drinks were scattered around the table and appetizers were spread and half-eaten.
“So, did you meet any cute guys during your internship?” Jessi snickered.
“Yeah, SooRi. Did you fuck them until they wanted to stick around, then hop on the next flight out of there?” Baekhyun grit his teeth under an annoyed stare in her direction.
“Baek, chill out!” Jongin rested a hand on his shoulder, while Baekhyun took a sip of his alcoholic beverage.
He was going to need to get drunk to make it through this damn thing.
“No, I didn’t have to do that. It turns out that most men are mature. They are upfront about what they want and don’t play games, then pout when they don’t get their way.”
“Now that I think about it, having you stay with a man is punishment enough. Perhaps, you’re doing us all a favor when you run away.” Baekhyun slammed his glass down to punctuate his malcontent.
“I think this is a good time for dessert.” Chanyeol piped up.
“God Chanyeol. We haven’t even had our entrees.” Junmyeon murmured under his breath.
“Well, it’s a better suggestion than watching a fucking cage match at our table!”
No one could argue with that.
“Let’s all cut Baekhyun a break. It’s difficult for us to see things from his perspective, because none of us can get our heads that far up our own asses.” SooRi winked at him and Baekhyun rolled his eyes damn near out of his skull.
“You just don’t know how much I’ve missed you, SooRi, “Jessi smirked at her boyfriend before the rest of the group had a hearty laugh at poor Baekhyun’s expense.
--
Before long, the main meals had come and gone. Now, the group sat around trading stories to catch each other up on the happenings of their life over dessert.
"I'm so glad to be back. I just want to settle into my old routine again."
Baekhyun scoffed, partly in disbelief.
"Which part of your routine? The part where you beg me to fuck you in every position known to man? Or the part where you act like you aren't interested in us being 'us'?"
Eyebrows shot up around the table. This was news.
SooRi cast her head down. This was one of the few times in her life she wasn't feeling too combative. Normally, she would've ripped Baekhyun a new asshole, or exsanguinated him with words sharper than knives, but not tonight.
"What's the matter, SooRi? You still haven't told them about us keeping up fuck buddy-status since Jongin's party?"
That cheeky bastard beamed at the chance to put her in her place in front of everyone.
"You know, just because your parents never gave you hugs as a kid, doesn't excuse you from being a complete ass." SooRi didn't want him to think she cared about anything he had to say, but enough was enough.
She took a deep breath, then sighed. "I'm sorry guys. I don't think I can stay here any longer." SooRi stood, reaching for her purse and phone.
"Don't leave your welcome back party! We'll kick Baekhyun's sorry ass out of here," Chanyeol snickered and stuck his tongue out.
"You're the best, Yeol. It's getting late anyway, and we've had such a nice time. I'd hate to ruin the night with an attempted murder charge."
--
SooRi hugged her friends one last time, before she departed. Her heels clicked with a soft echo in the concrete parking lot. She tapped her foot out front, waiting for her rideshare.
A strong hand gripped her waist without warning.
"You've got a lot nerve, walking out on me like that."
"I don't know if you were at the same dinner that I was, but you were the one acting all butt-hurt."
"When the going gets tough, SooRi gets going." Baekhyun shrugged, "If you want to get home you might as well let me take you. I canceled your ride. You're still on my account, remember?"
SooRi glared at him, fighting her instinct to curse him out.
"You'd have better luck asking Carmen Sandiego where in the world you lost your damn mind!"
"Get in the fucking car, SooRi. Let me take you home."
--
The tension was palpable as they rode in silence. Baekhyun cut his eyes over her frame. She looked amazing, as always. Since he'd had her, there was no one else he wanted.
"It killed me when you left." He spoke never looking in her direction.
"W-What?" SooRi tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.
"You just left me. I thought that we were, kind of, building something. Then, I find out through Instagram that you're on your way to New York for an internship."
"You always knew I had to go...," SooRi trailed off in a whisper.
Baekhyun's fingers tightened around the steering wheel, knuckles white and fully-flexed.
"That is not the point, dammit! You can't make people fall for you, then just leave them high and dry!"
SooRi's eyes widened, mouth partly agape, a series of questions ready to flow from her brain to her lips.
"Baekhyun-- W-Where are you going?!" She watched as he peeled off the path to her home and down some dark street.
Both of their bodies lurched forward as he came to a stop in the desolate alleyway. Putting the car in park, he turned to SooRi with a dark glint in his eyes.
"I wish I could get you out of my mind. I wish I could hate you."
--
Baekhyun pressed his lips against SooRi's, gently at first, gradually his force increased. She weakly tried to push him off, but she missed the feeling. His tone arm pulled her closer to him, SooRi's side digging into the center console.
"Ouch! Not so rough!" SooRi shifted uncomfortably around the console and his unrelenting grip.
"I think that's the least of your problems tonight, SooRi-ah. Someone needs to teach you some manners. It's not polite to leave your boyfriend without so much as a word."
"Boyfriend? Really, Baek?"
His hands grabbed her hips as best they could. "Ah, ah, ah! Tonight, I think you should address me as 'Sir,' don't you think? I am teaching you a very important lesson. Now, crawl into my lap, baby girl."
Against her better judgement, she shifted over his lap, "I bet you've missed this, huh?"
"Don't flatter yourself, Baekhyun."
He took no time to swat her ass quickly a few times. "What did I tell you to address me as?"
"...Sir...," SooRi looked off to the side. She'd be damned if she was going to make eye contact. Besides, she already knew he had a shit-eating grin on his face.
"Good girl. Lift up your dress."
Baekhyun watched as she wriggled around to lift her dress around her waist. He eyed the microscopic piece of fabric that was her lacy, white thong. His tongue slithered out from between his lips, eager to have and taste her.
She gnawed on her bottom lip in anticipation. She could feel his fingers ghosting over her entrance, before a cool gust of air hit her skin. He clenched his teeth, snapping the panties at the waistband.
SooRi glowered down at him, but stifled a moan when he shoved the underwear in his pocket.
"Looks like someone missed me, too," he dipped two fingers inside SooRi, while his thumb massaged her clit. "How thoughtful of you to keep it nice and wet for me."
She released a hoarse, needy groan at his delicate touch. He always knew which button to press to keep her reeling.
"Feel good, sweet girl?"
She nodded erratically, bucking her hips up to meet his fingers. "Uh huh. Y-Yes, Sir."
His digits quickened as they curled to tease her g-spot. Baekhyun was quite amused watching her face contort in a mixture of pleasure and discomfort. Her shallow moans broke up the silence between her delicious wet sounds and the leather squeaking against their active bodies.
Baekhyun slapped SooRi's inner thighs when her hip rolling became too eager. "There is so much more fun to have, baby."
"I'm close, Sir." Her nails dug into his shoulders, body twisting as her orgasm neared.
Her whimpers were the sweetest music to his ears. He could feel her warmth pulsing around his fingers.
As she found herself teetering dangerously on the edge, Baekhyun withdrew his fingers, opting to taste her.
She whined, watching him savor her unique flavor, "Put them back, please...Sir. I want to cum on your fingers."
"This wouldn't be much of a lesson, without some form of punishment."
Wiping his wet fingers on SooRi’s inner thighs, Baekhyun gripped her face in a deep kiss. Their tongues danced around in desperation for one another. Mouths still connected, he tugged at the thin straps of her dress, all too impatient for it to come off.
SooRi wriggled out of the top half of the dress, rolling it to the middle of her stomach where the rest of the dress was. Baekhyun’s tongue dragged a fiery trail down her neck to her uncovered breasts.
His tongue flicked at her nipples, before he alternated with a light suctioning pressure. He pulled the soft skin through his teeth, gently biting her and leaving her chest covered in maroon bruises.
SooRi tangled her fingers in his hair, head dropped back and body still tense with the desire to cum.
“Unzip my pants,” Baekhyun smirked at her attempts to grind against him for any kind of sensation.
She didn’t have to be told twice.
In a matter of seconds, Baekhyun’s dick was stiffening in SooRi’s manicured hand.
“Go ahead, princess. Ride me.”
She lined him up with her entrance and sank down with a satisfying sigh. He filled her up so nicely. She fit around him like a glove.
SooRi wrapped her arms around the driver’s headrest, slapping her hips up and down wildly. Baekhyun broke up the monotonous sound with a few sharp ass slaps.
Kneading the tender flesh, he grunted, “Damn, I’ve missed this ass.”
SooRi leaned back to roll her hips, narrowly missing the horn. Her knees dug into the soft leather around Baekhyun, frustrated by the lack of space. His hands ran up the sides of her waist and settled on her bruised tits.
Palming them roughly, she mewled as he rolled her nipples between his fingers. She hissed watching him pinch and tweak the hard nubs.
He pulled on her nipples as if they were the reins of a horse--tugging them mercilessly enjoying her whinnies for release. When he felt he'd done enough, he closed a broad hand around her throat.
"I'm about to--," she was barely able to breath out.
They were both well aware of the fact that whenever his hands clasped around her throat, she would be drenched. It was like she was straddling Niagara Falls.
"Not yet," Baekhyun swiftly opened his door and scooped her off of his length.
--
She wobbled to find her footing as she stood right outside the car--totally exposed.
"Baekhyun, what the fuck?!" She tried to shield her nude form and scurry to the passenger's seat, only for Baekhyun to stop her in her tracks.
"That's 'Sir,' to you. But, since you want to be a mouthy little slut, I'll give you something productive to do with your mouth."
Baekhyun eyes gleamed darkly as he stared her down. He towered over her to drop his jeans more comfortably, before resuming his seated position.
"Let's see those pretty lips on my dick, hmm?" Baekhyun blew a kiss in her direction, meanwhile SooRi returned the evil eye.
If she felt that her knees were in an uncomfortable position in the car, the cold asphalt was certainly no improvement.
SooRi kneeled and looked up to him, teeth gritting as she gripped him at the base of his cock. Her hands glided up and down his glistening shaft, pumping him faster and faster.
She swiped his tip quickly, cleaning a clear drop of precum. Her tongue drug a sloppy trail up from his balls to the tip, before swirling around the head.
SooRi shivered at the cool, night air, smirking at the thought of being so naughty. The lonely, flickering street light cast a shadow over the pair. The sounds and faint lights of cars moving on the highway made them very aware of their daring deed.
Baekhyun sucked in a jagged breath as her warm mouth worked its magic. He stroked her curly hair with great care, easing her down on his needy, aching member.
His voice strained as she expertly handled his girth. She always knew exactly what he needed in exactly the right moment. It wasn't long before he had her lips motioning at the base of his member.
"Fuck, baby...," he eked out with a clenched jaw.
After a few muffled gags, SooRi bobbed up for much-needed air. She lapped at the new precum leaking from his head. She eyed him with sliver of rebellion, as her hands pumped him faster and faster. One hand massaged his balls, while she tongued his tip.
"Is it good, Sir?" She'd picked up his signature smirk with no practice.
Baekhyun lifted SooRi from his length by her chin, "Ah, ah, ah. I want to pump that pretty pussy full of cum."
Her cheeks turned a bright shade of red as she stood in front of him, lips glistening in the brief flashes of light.
"You think if I put a baby in that tight little stomach, you'll have a reason to stay with me?" He whispered roughly in her ear.
She nearly lost her breath at the new side he was revealing.
He stood up, leading her to the hood of the car with one hand and holding his pants to help his waddle with the other.
When he found a comfortable spot, he cupped his hands under her ass, lifting her on the hood of his sedan.
She landed with a soft thud, tensing at the cold metal beneath her.
"Spread those legs, baby," he took a few seconds to kiss her inner thighs and pass his tongue over her slick opening.
Baekhyun lined his shaft up to her entrance, rubbing her clit with his thumb and parting her wetness with his tip.
"Mmmmm, don't tease," SooRi panted, hips moving at the slightest sensation.
Her body was on fire and no amount of air could cool her down. She needed release and wouldn't be denied. Not this time, anyway.
He pecked her lips, pulling her bottom lip through his teeth, just the way she liked it. Within a moment, he shoved hard and pushed his entire length into her in one thrust, holding her hips to pull her against him.
"You. Never. Fucking. Leave. Me. Again. Got it?!" He blew through his teeth, each thrust more powerful than the last.
It was her turn to grunt, grit, and moan, feeling his length tunnel into her. His thickness stretched her more than she remembered. She dug her hands into the hood of the car, frustrated that there was nothing to grab and hold onto for dear life. SooRi felt like she was losing her grip--not only on Baekhyun’s car, but reality--as he started moving, drawing back, and thrusting his length into her again and again.
"Oh, fuck! Keep fucking me like this, Sir! I'll never leave you again, Baekhyun!"
His mouth dried before a broad grin covered his features, "Learned your lesson so soon?"
SooRi could barely respond when her eyes shut tightly, riding the wave of pleasure flowing through her body. An onlooker would have described her as possessed, the way she writhed, convulsed, and shuddered. She rocked back and forth, still sliding on his dick, moaning unintelligible, incoherent strings of words.
The rocking BMW didn't have much of a chance to still as Baekhyun tipped over the edge. He felt his balls contract up towards his body, anticipating the muscle contractions start that would send him cumming inside her, and he grabbed her hips with both hands again to pull her back into him.
The spasms lasted for what seemed like forever in those moments of release. He bucked into her erratically as his ejaculation subsided, slowly coming down from the high.
--
Baekhyun rested inside her for a few minutes, before slipping out, gradually softening while SooRi adjusted her dress.
He pulled his pants up and hopped back in the driver's seat, waiting for SooRi.
When she closed the door behind her, they buckled up and peeled out of the alleyway.
"Maybe, I should leave more often?" SooRi winked as they headed to her place.
"Maybe, you need another lesson?" Baekhyun gripped her thigh, as he sped off into the distance.
Idea Garden is a writing prompts blog. We focus mainly on smut prompts, however, our prompts do span genres.
ALL PROMPTS | SMUT PROMPTS | RULES | ASK | MY WRITING
#my writing#minseoks-personal-trashcan#baekhyun#baekhyun smut#exo smut#exo#exo scenarios#byun baekhyun#exo scenario#exo baekhyun#exo baekhyun smut#exo baekhyun scenario#exo kyungsoo#exo d.o#exo kai#exo jongin#exo suho#exo junmyeon#suho#junmyeon#baekhyun scenario#ambw#ambw kpop#ambw smut#ambw scenarios
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Reunited
As I stood naked in the middle of our penthouse bedroom, I had just finished frantically searching for my favorite pair of Louboutin pumps, but to no avail. Frustration, hot from running around and famished now did not begin to explain the few feelings that were beginning to overwhelm me. I thought I might literally pull my hair out when arms wrapped around my midsection and pulled my body into warmth.
“Mmm, you smell good.” she breathed into my hair, inhaling my scent.
“Whatever. I’m pissed off.” I forced out, crossing my arms in the most childish way.
“And why is my darling pissed off when she looks good enough to skip dinner and eat right here in her birthday suit?” Taylor asked, already going for the save mode.
“Because!” I huffed. “I can’t find my new Loubs and just fucking yesterday, they were right there!” I said, pouting and the whole lot as I pointed off to my closet.
“Maybe that’s because,” Taylor began as her arms dropped from around me and she went into her own closet, to retrieve a bag I knew all too familiar, “I replaced them with two new pairs and hid your others.” she said as she reached the bag out to me.
Squealing instantly as I jumped up and down, I grabbed the bag and quickly pulled each box out one at a time. Looking over them both, my heart palpitated double time as I discovered she had purchased me two new Loubs from his newest collection. This night couldn’t get any better and after this, it certainly wouldn’t get any worse.
“Oh my– baby! Come here!” I commanded sweetly as I fell backwards into the bed to take a seat with the bag less heels in each of my hands.
Taylor came over as she planted both of her hands on either side of my still naked body. “Yes?”
“I love you.” I said, gushing over her and the gifts.
“I love you, even though just a week ago you were ready for me to sign them papers.” she chuckled as she made light out of our recent and not so great situation.
Since then, Taylor had moved back in and things were slowly but quickly going back to normal. Our sex life was what was quickly going back to normal, as we made love every single day, sometimes twice or three times a day. I wasn’t complaining though, Taylor was a phenomenal and spontaneous lover, never a dull moment with her.
“Shush.” I spoke out softly as I pressed my lips firmly against hers, both of our lips moving slowly against each others.
Almost getting caught up in the kiss, Taylor pulled away slowly, her lips popping off of mine. She pat my thighs gently, “Come on. Get dressed, our reservation is in 40 minutes and this place is damn near across town.”
“Okayyyy.” I whined, standing up from the bed as she backed away, setting the heels down and taking one last look at them before darting off to my closet to get dressed for the evening.
Taylor went off to do the same as we both rushed now to look our very best for each other. She stopped me in the middle of getting dressed herself, “wait.”
I turned, holding the dress right over my head. “Yeah?”
“Swap those out,” she said as she motioned down at my lace panties, “for these.”
In her hands she held a pair of vibrating panties, I was no stranger to them; I’d been to enough porn shops. Never had I ever used them before, although curious I was.
“Ooooh la la. Somebody is frisky tonight. Do you get to control them?” I asked, seduction all in my low tone as I began pulling down my panties, stepping out of them.
“You bet your sexy ass I do. Now put them on and get ready.” she instructed, slapping my ass and handing them over to me.
Pulling them on, I adjusted them appropriately and continued to get dressed. Once we were both dressed to the nine, Taylor grabbed my hand and escorted me out of our room.
“Try it out, baby.” I encouraged her as she held the small remote in her hand and pressed a button to turn it on.
Small vibrators tingled my clit, it was a nice feeling I will admit until Taylor turned it up a notch and I grabbed onto her arm out of instinct.
“Oh my God! Taylor!” I said through clenched teeth as she continued going up notches while I dug my nails in her arm.
“What?” she smirked, turning it off and leaving me wanting to fuck her right here on our living room floor.
“Is this what dinner will be like?” I asked, breathless slightly as I felt flushed in the face.
“Perhaps,” she teased as I followed her out.
———————————-
The whole car ride there, she made sure to tease me on and off; never letting me reach the edge, but keeping me cumming back for more as I begged her to let me cum just once. Taylor was enjoying this entirely too much.
“After you, wife.” she said, with her hand pressed up against my lower back and she ushered me into the restaurant.
“Mhm.” I mumbled.
Taylor gave our last name for our reservations and we were immediately seated, off in a dimly lit corner of this upscale restaurant, yet the view of all the other diners was for ours to see. Not to mention, all of their eyes could easily be on us as well, if one were to make a scene over here. I was praying that Taylor didn’t bring about a scene to be made, something told me that she would.
“Having a good night so far?” I asked her, crossing my legs, so quickly forgetting the control she held over me, especially tonight.
“Oh yes. Are you?”
Before I could answer, she turned the panties on again, making my hands fly flat to the booth seating as I bit down on my bottom lip hard. “Taaaylorrr.” I moaned out lightly, spreading her name out as the vibrations took hold of me. She stopped it abruptly, leaving me literally panting. “Fuck!”
She just grinned as our waiter came over to take our order, along with drinks. When he first greeted us, I was so out of it still from the last zap to my pussy, I was at a loss for words or even acknowledgment that he was speaking to me.
“Ma'am?” he asked.
“Babe!” Taylor called out to me, making me turn between both of them now.
“Huh?”
“Do you know what you want to eat?” she asked, repeating what I’m sure he’d already asked me.
“Uh,” I stuttered, looking at my menu that I hadn’t even touched. “No.” I giggled, blushing as I picked it up to take a gander at it.
They both laughed, him especially as if he had the inside to the joke, which only Taylor knew. Rolling my eyes, I searched for what I found appetizing, as I relayed to him what I wanted to eat. He jotted down both of our orders, along with drinks and scurried off to go place them.
“Damn, baby. You good?” Taylor joked, waving the remote in the air.
“Shut up!” I shot at her, unable to hide my grin.
“You sure that’s the way you want to talk to me right now?”
“Yup! Ass.”
“I got your ass…” and just like that, she turned it on and up full speed.
“Mmmm! Babyyyy!” I moaned loudly, squirming in my seat as I uncrossed my legs and crossed them over the opposite way.
I had begun grinding slowly against the seat of the panties, letting it rub up and down my clit as I felt my body growing hotter. Light moans were escaping past my lips as I slammed my hands against the table top. Suddenly, Taylor made it stop, leaving me winded and hornier than I could stand.
Taylor chuckled loudly, biting her bottom lip and watching me intently. “You’re so sexy when you’re vulnerable and begging without words for me to make you cum.”
“I hate you.” I glared at her, meaning the words I spoke at the moment.
Without warning, the buzzing sounded again and the feelings came back, stronger than the time before. I clenched onto the edge of the table tightly, grinding harder and not giving one single fuck if onlookers were now on to us. Or me, with the way I couldn’t stop moans from fleeing, even through clenched teeth and tight lips.
“You wanna cum, baby?” Taylor teased as she watched me being pleasured by the remote control that controlled the panties she made me wear.
I nodded my head slowly, my face scrunched up with immense delectation. “Yes! Yesssss, daddy.”
I moved one of my hands long enough from the table to cover my own vulgar mouth. I couldn’t take much more of this and we hadn’t even been served dinner. Taylor was going to have to take me now and let me bust one or there was no way I was going to be able to eat, moist between the legs and throbbing.
“Mmm. I bet you do.” she said as she switched it off yet again.
I collapsed into the table for a moment, breathing hard, before I sat myself back up, staring at her once more. “You’re killing me. Please, fuck me already, baby. I’m soaking.”
“Shit. Now you’re fucking with me.”
I slid my tongue slowly across my top lip, motioning with my finger for her to lean across. She did as I then grabbed her by the back of her neck, forcing my tongue straight away into her mouth, seeking hers and sucking it roughly. Taylor hungrily returned my kiss, moaning into my mouth. I was the one who pulled away, my breathing still off as we glanced into each others eyes.
“Fuck. Me.” I begged quietly.
“Not. Yet.” she mocked, sitting back in her seat.
Two could play at this game. Our waiter had returned with both our drinks and our food, sitting our plates down in front of us both.
“Bon appetit, lovers.” he declared as he smiled wide and walked off from our table.
Taylor dove into her food as if nothing has just previously happened; as if I hadn’t just told her I was dripping for her. I watched her like a hawk, waiting for her to lift her head and take notice to me. I wasn’t playing when I said I wanted her to fuck me, if she was going to pretend she didn’t hear me, I would make sure she did.
Slowly I let my hand trail down between my legs as I let my dress lift up some and my fingers find my center. Pressing against my clit where the vibrator sat, I rubbed small yet rough circles; making sure to moan. Her attention was now focused on me.
“What are you doing, Carmen?” she asked, looking around. Oh, now she wanted to give a damn what the other customers thought? But it was okay as long as she was controlling their stares.
“I’m going to cum. With … mmmm.. or without you.” I closed my eyes tightly for effects, rolling my hips now.
An elder couple took notice as the wife of the table shrieked at what she saw I was doing. Taylor mumbled lowly now, “Baby. Stop it.”
“No..” I whispered, continuing to rub over my clit, ignoring her.
Taylor thought she’d teach me a lesson, as my own fingers began to vibrate and the strong sensations had returned.
“Ooooh, FUCK!” I damn near shouted out, still pressing my fingers against me hard. “Shit, baby!”
Taylor grinned and left the vibrator going as she stood up from where she sat. She reached her hand out to me, “Let’s go.”
“Where.. to…?” I asked, barely able to speak, I wanted to cum so bad.
“The bathroom. I’m about to fuck your disobedient ass.” she stated calmly, still holding out her hand.
“Taylor… I can’t.. Mmm shit, move like this.” I whined and moaned simultaneously.
“Suck it up. Let’s go, Carmen.” her tone came out demanding and full of rough sex to come.
I used the table to help me slide out of the booth, grabbing her hand as I did. Walking while it was going was even harder than I thought, nearly cumming on myself before we reached the bathrooms. Taylor forced the doors open, pushing me hard against the wall as soon as we were inside. We began making out like two teenagers that had just discovered the joys of sex and all things great they came with it. Taylor moved us into a stall without breaking our kiss, pushing me against the door after she locked it.
“Baby… oh my fuuuuuck!” I moaned while she moved from my lips to suck on the side of my neck. Her lips against my skin were bringing on my orgasm, quickly and intensely.
“Tell me you wanna cum…” she spoke out between sucking and kissing my neck.
“I wanna… ahhh, yes! I wanna cum, daddy!” I screamed out, but not to my full potential.
Taylor reached in her pocket and switched it off suddenly again, lifting my dress up harshly up to my hips while yanking the panties down, she forced two fingers right into me.
As soon as her fingers thrust up inside of me, my knees buckled as my body gave way instantly to the orgasm I’d been owed and denied all night.
“GODDAMNITTTTT!!!” I screamed now, grabbing onto her neck and digging my nails into it as I allowed myself to cum all over her fingers.
She moved them quickly in and out of me, running the tips over my g-spot repeatedly as I let myself go to her. “Oooooh, shit! Yes, yes, yesssss! Like that, fuck like that!” I moaned loudly.
Taylor moaned into my neck, slowly down the strokes of her fingers before she slipped them out of me. “You’re so fucking wet, baby! Goddamn, I almost came from how fucking wet you are..” she admitted as she tasted me from off of her fingers.
I backed her up into a wall now, wanting to take control and make her cum for me now. Kissing from her lips, over to her neck and finally settling with leaving kisses across her collarbone. My other hand journeyed down her body to get her shorts down rapidly, tugging them down her legs along with her panties. Once I had them at her ankles, I dropped down my knees, spreading her legs before me.
Diving right in, my tongue trailed up and down her clit, slowly at first before picking up speed and flicking against it. Taylor’s hand collided with the back of my head, forcing my head down, to let my tongue slide carefully inside of her to taste her.
“Mmmm!” we both said at the same time, my tongue darting in and out of her wet center repeatedly.
She tossed one of her legs over my shoulder as I gripped onto her thigh tightly, her hand pushing my head back and forth between her legs. I loved it when she fucked my face like this, it was only making me drip more. Curving my tongue up while inside of her, I slide it quickly in and out of her; straightening and stiffening it up.
“Say ahh while you eat this pussy.” Taylor demanded as she slammed my tongue inside of her.
“Ahhhhhhhhh…” I moaned as my she showed my tongue how to fuck her.
In and out my tongue slid deep within her before she pulled my head back, looking down at me. “Shit. Look at your face, babe. My juices are allll over that shit.” she growled as she pushed my face back between her legs.
My mouth found its way over her clit, sucking it slowly and hard, letting my tongue swirl over it; alternating between that and sucking. Moaning as I did, I was so turned on. My tongue suckled her clit a little longer as she moaned out for me, pushing me back down and forward. Taylor was so forceful when she wanted to be and now was one of those times, I loved for her to be.
“Eat this pussy, mami.” she moaned louder, grinding her hips at me and rolling them in circles, making my tongue seem to do the same inside of her.
Faster she slammed my face into her pussy, making my tongue glide in and out of her the same, swallowing her as she dripped down my chin. Gripping her thigh tighter, she thrust harder into my mouth, making me say ‘ahhh’ for her again.
“Shiiiit, baby. Right there, don’t you fucking stop! Mmmm!” Taylor moaned louder than the times before, rolling her hips faster.
I didn’t stop or slow down the movements of my tongue as I slid inside of her over and over again, letting my tongue go in stiff, as she fucked my face.
“I’m there, baby… SHIT! Yeah… yeah… ooooooh!”
We were so loud that if anyone had entered the bathroom, we were oblivious to that fact. Taylor grabbed handfuls of my hair, using both of her hands now as she forced my tongue deeper inside of her, just as she was about to cum all over it for me. I could feel her pussy throbbing inside around my tongue, her orgasm seconds away.
“FUCK, BABY! GODDAMN!” she screamed suddenly, cumming all over my tongue.
I loved every bit of her orgasm, sucking her juices out as I swallowed her and made enjoyable sex noises to follow. Taylor continued to fuck my face roughly, riding out her orgasm before she calmed down some; still not letting me move my head. Her body shuddered as she peered down at me as I looked up at her.
“Mmm, swallow all that shit, baby.”
I moaned from her words, doing just as she asked me, no less. When she finally pulled my head away, she helped me up off of the floor, pulling my dress back down over my hips to its correct position.
“You’re so goddamn sexy. Damn, did I wife the right one.”
I smirked, licking my lips and wiping the outer corners of my mouth. “Did you ever. And I have got to have the tastiest wife in town.”
We enjoyed another deep kiss, pulling away from each other once we heard the door swing open. Giggling like two little school girls, I helped Taylor dress herself as I dusted off my knees and asked her to look me over before we left out of the stall. With the panties back on and in tact, I prayed that Taylor at least let me get through my food, which was probably cold now, before she took to controlling my pussy again.
Sitting back down at our table, we both began to eat, in silence as my thoughts went back to the scene in the bathroom and before. Taylor cleared her throat, causing me to look over at her.
“What?” I asked curiously.
“Daddy wants to play.” she said as she wiped her mouth with her napkin.
“No, wait til we get home.”
“No!” she shot back.
“Bab— oooooh yes! Oh my Goddddd.” I moaned louder than I had meant to. The vibrator was on high, as I squirmed again and rolled my hips.
From already being worked up, I was near orgasm already. Taylor obviously had plans on fucking the night away as I thought, here we go again.
Author | Kierra Posted | September 2012
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courtship (2/2)
Synopsis: Taeyong does his best to win your heart. Member: Taeyong/Reader Word Count: 8,282 Notes: the long awaited goddamn shit that i’ve owed for like ten goddamn years. i’m so sorry that it’s taken so long carmen hopefully it is good. hopefully you read it wherever you may be... aka probably somewhere fawning over taeyong as usual... bless your heart enjoy ;;; Part 1 | Part 2
It's been a week since the Neo Kingdom came around, since that terrible hearing took place, and since Prince Taeyong had asked to court you.
His words still echoed in your mind, over and over, through every part of your day. From breakfast, to lunch, dinner, snack, combat lessons, manner lessons, going over laws, talking to your parents, and everything in between. All you could think about was Taeyong and his proposal.
You, a powerful princess who was feared and desired and revered by many. You, who wasn’t known for backing out of a fight or being stumped by riddles or questions. You, who was surely not to be confused by a prince who you had met once.
And yet, you were confused about everything concerning him. He didn’t want to just marry you, he wanted to court you, get to know you, give you more presents and talk to you and do other things couples did together.
He was a curious one, this Lee Taeyong.
“Princess, Kim Doyoung of the Neo Kingdom has arrived,” you hear Mark say. You sigh and move away from the window you had been staring out of, walking over to Mark. He bows to you before opening the door and letting you exit. Once you’re both through, he gets ahead of you, leading the way to the general.
Your thoughts wander of course to Taeyong. How could they not when the general from his kingdom was here? You wonder if maybe Doyoung can tell you more about him. Maybe he knows of some secret motives the prince had? Maybe the prince liked jewels and he wanted a specific one from you? There were so many possibilities.
You and Mark turn the corner into the main hall, and your eyes immediately meet soft ones in a sea of sharp features, a smile directed your way.
You must have been under a spell or something. Hallucinating about Taeyong was ridiculous. Thinking about him all the time was already ridiculous, but this was even worse.
You shut your eyes and slap your face a few times, trying to get yourself together. You had an important meeting with Doyoung; you couldn’t be hallucinating about Taeyong.
When you open your eyes, Taeyong is still there, worry now on his face, probably because you had been slapping yourself. You can’t worry about him though. He was fake and you had a meeting to get through.
You make your way over to Doyoung, letting him bow to you once before greeting him and completely ignoring Taeyong.
“It’s nice to see you again princess,” Taeyong says. An awkward silence settles between the four of you when you don’t respond, Doyoung and Mark both looking between you, as if waiting for you to respond. Why would you respond to a hallucination? Ridiculous.
"Mark, if you could lead the way to the meeting room." Mark nods his head, looking at you with this odd expression before beginning to walk. You follow after, Doyoung coming in step next to you.
"Oh, wait, Princess Y/N!" Doyoung and Mark both stop at the words, making you stop and turn to face the voice. It seemed to be not so fake anymore if Doyoung and Mark reacted to it. Taeyong comes to stand in front of you, that same smile that makes your heart race adorning his features. He holds out a small box for you, one with your initials on the front along with a small drawing of a cat face.
It was cute, but that was all Taeyong was getting from you.
"...Mark take his gift please. We need to get to a meeting." You turn on your heel then, continuing to walk to your destination, trying your best to leave Taeyong out of your mind for now.
-
"You thought he was a hallucination?" You groan into your arms where you have your face buried in them from embarrassment. Your meeting with Doyoung had gone well, and now, you were just talking. Of course, the first thing you had to talk about was Taeyong.
"How was I supposed to know he was real? I've been think-" You quickly shut up, sitting up to look at Doyoung. "...You won't tell Taeyong about this, right?" Doyoung shakes his head. "I've been thinking about him all day – all week – since he... you know."
"...and so you just figured your thoughts about him were getting to you?" Doyoung asks. You nod your head.
"I didn't know he was going to be here today. What else was I supposed to think?" You hear Doyoung laugh, and it makes you frown. "Don't laugh at me! Do you know who I am?"
"Of course I do. But you're... not very well-versed in these sorts of things. He's asking to court you. Why wouldn't he be here at every possible chance to gift you and gain your affections?" You cross your arms and pout, leaning back in your chair.
"Well, where is Prince Jaehyun then? I was willing to think about his proposal so why isn't he here doing what Taeyong is doing?" You ask. Doyoung's expression changes drastically in a matter of seconds, his big gummy smile replaced by a frown.
"He... Prince Jaehyun is – was – on a mission, but he hasn't returned yet... We think bandits might have done something-
"Are you serious?" You ask. Doyoung's smile comes back almost instantly, and he snorts.
"No, I'm joking." You roll your eyes and hit him, pouting even more than you were before. If you didn’t like Doyoung so much, you'd definitely be banishing the Neo Kingdom from ever setting foot in your own kingdom again. They played way too many jokes on you; it was disrespectful to someone of your status.
"I think he said he said he was waiting for you to visit so he could show you our library. You are visiting soon, correct?"
You scoff but nod your head. "Yes, in a few days. I hope your kingdom isn't expecting me to laugh at all your ridiculous jokes."
"Of course not, princess. Only mine," Doyoung says, grinning at you. You roll your eyes at him and stand up.
"Yours are the least funny, General."
-
Another week passes before you know it, and you're riding in a carriage on your way to the Neo Kingdom. Mark and Donghyuck are with you as your personal guards, while the rest stayed behind to watch the kingdom.
With most of the royal family gone besides the prince, it wasn't wise to take all the guards on this one trip, especially when it was only supposed to last two days.
Besides, if Taeyong and Jaehyun were really trying to win over your heart, you hoped there would be plenty of guards around the castle to watch over you.
Otherwise, that was just bad leadership on their part.
"Princess, we're almost to the Neo Kingdom," Mark says outside of the carriage. "Would you like me or Haechan to let the front gate know?"
"Have Haechan go," you call back to him. While both Haechan and Mark were capable of traveling further ahead of the carriage by themselves, Haechan was actually good with the bow he carried. If he needed to, he could shoot anyone before they could even pull their weapon. He was a better scout that way.
You should probably trust the Neo Kingdom a little more than you did, but, it was always better to be safe than sorry.
Eventually though, you arrive at the front gate without much mishap, Haechan returning to the side of the carriage to let you know everything was fine. You feel nervous as your carriage passes through the gate, your hands folding in your lap to try to keep yourself together.
You were a princess from a prestigious kingdom; you couldn't be nervous about spending time with two princes. That was ridiculous.
Your carriage eventually comes to a stop, Mark knocking on the door for you to come out. You take a deep breath, doing your best to get your nervousness to disappear, and then take another when it doesn't help. Mark knocks again, and you quickly open the door, allowing Mark to help you out of the carriage.
You nearly stop in your tracks at the sight of the castle in front of you.
It's far bigger than you pictured, and even bigger than your own castle. You can't even see the whole front wall, the ends of it covered by large, beautiful vines with flowers attached to almost every inch of it. The castle itself is made with a beautiful, greenish blue stone that reminds you of a lake in a forest you visited a lot when you were younger. The feeling the lake gave you was always one of calmness and staring at the castle makes you feel the same. It makes you all the nervousness go away, and, it felt almost like you weren't in a new kingdom, but like you were at home.
"Princess?" You blink a few times and look away from the castle to Mark, who has a look of confusion on his face. Why was he confused? Did you look weird staring at the castle?
"What?"
"Are you okay? You're smiling at the castle like you're excited or something," he says. You frown immediately and shake your head.
"I just think it's pretty. That's all. Not prettier than my castle, of course," you say. Mark laughs, clearly not believing your statement.
You didn't believe it either.
Mark, Haechan and you begin walking towards the front door of the castle, each of them at your side as they bicker about something. You stare up at the castle once more as they do, taking in more features. At the top of the wall, you can see two sentry posts, guards looking down at you while you walk.
You're glad there were guards like you hoped. It made you feel even better about being here.
You walk up the steps to the castle door, and, upon entering it, you truly see the castle is bigger than you thought. This door doesn't even lead into the castle yet, instead leading into a courtyard, filled with more beautiful flowers that range from bright reds to dark purples, some blues and dark greens mixed in as well.
Your eyes trail across the courtyard, taking in the beauty before you until they land on a staircase on the opposite end. At the bottom of it stood four guards, and, as your eyes wander upwards you see the six princes of the Neo Kingdom, all dressed in similar outfits to what they wore at the hearing.
As you walk forward, they come down the stairs, and your eyes immediately attach to the prince with fluffy, black hair, the silver that had been there previously completely gone.
Taeyong is handsome still, and his features still strong and sharp, but, the black hair somehow makes him look far softer than he did before.
You won't ever admit it out loud, but, you kind of really love this look.
"Princess Y/N, a pleasure to see you again," Prince Jaehyun says when you meet at the bottom of the steps. Your eyes look away from Taeyong and to him and you nod your head, watching as he bows to you, and the rest of the princes plus the guards at the bottom of the steps follow suit.
It seemed they weren't devoid of manners after all.
That puts a smile on your face.
"Thank you for the warm welcome. Now that I'm here though... Are you willing to give me a tour?" You're not asking Jaehyun specifically, but he steps towards you first, offering his arm to you. You quickly glance to see if Taeyong will do the same, but, you notice he's not even there anymore.
What was up with that?
"The day will be spent with me, if you don't mind, Princess," Jaehyun says, interrupting your thoughts. "I will show you around." You nod again and take his arm, allowing him to lead you up the steps. Mark and Haechan follow, and, without another glance back to see where Taeyong was, you step into the castle.
-
The tour through the castle is wonderful. The castle is beautiful and pristine and magnificent, from the walls to the floors and to every little thing that decorated the place. It really does make you feel at home, the richness and splendor appealing to every part of you.
It was just as prestigious as your own castle, if not better.
If you ended up falling for one of the princes, you're sure this would no doubt be a benefit to that.
When you step into the library, though, it only makes this entire experience better. Just as Jaehyun had said, the library spans two floors, each wall lined with bookshelf after bookshelf, thousands upon thousands of books placed neatly in each shelf. There's many tables in the middle of the room, books on top of the tables while people sat there. It's just as beautiful as the rest of the castle, and, you nearly fall in love just taking in the entire place.
"Do you like it?" Jaehyun asks. You nod your head, not looking away from the view in front of you.
The Neo Kingdom was starting to sound better and better the more you were here.
"Come then, princess. We can sit and read together." He takes your arm once more and leads you to a spiraling staircase, takes you up it, and then walks with you over to a table with a stack of books already on it.
Jaeyhyun pulls out a chair for you but you don't sit down immediately, instead frowning at the books on the table. "Did you pick these out for me?" He nods his head. "...is it okay if I look at some books myself?"
"Of course, princess. These are just some of my favorites that I thought I'd share with you. But you're welcome to browse and pick out any book you wish."
You smile and thank him before rushing back down the spiral staircase, heading for one of the bookshelves with a ladder in front of it. You look up and down, trying to find something that will catch your attention just with the title.
Eventually you do find a few things, one book on the lowest shelf that has an interesting title that has to do with the stars, another book that features a magical cat, another that has to do with history on the Neo Kingdom, and a final one that you can't reach. You stand atop the ladder, trying your best to get it, but no matter how much you reach, you can't.
"Mark!" You look over to the door where your two knights should be standing, but neither are actually there.
What kind of knights left their princess unattended?
You were going to have to talk to them about that later. Right now, you were going to focus on the book you wanted.
You look back up at it, and then over to the upper floor where Prince Jaehyun sat. You didn't really want to call him over to help you, partly because you had a lot of pride, and partly because you'd have to walk all the way over there. You groan and look back at the book once more, reaching up to grab at it again.
Unsurprisingly, your arm still doesn't reach, but you stretch, and stretch, and stand up on your tippy toes to stretch a little further, and you can just barely touch the binding of the book with your fingertips.
It's still not enough for you to pull out, but you were getting somewhere.
You sit back completely on your feet and move one back to gain some better footing, but, you must have forgotten that you were on a ladder because your foot hits air, and as you try and steady yourself it misses the step below it, and you slip.
You were going to absolutely kill Mark and Haechan when you ended up in the afterlife.
You scream and shut your eyes as you fall, hoping at the same time that maybe, just maybe there will be a soft landing. You hope you won't break anything. You hope you'll still be in one piece once you land.
You hope, and hope, and hope, and someone must be listening because your landing is not as hard as you expect.
Something – someone catches you, and the only thing to hit the ground is your butt, but It's so gentle that you can't even be mad about it. It wasn't anything worse like your entire body, which you would really, really, really kill Mark and Haechan for.
You let out a breath and crack open an eye, looking up at the person who saved you.
Part of you expected Mark, another part Jaehyun, and another part some random stranger.
You did not expect Prince Taeyong to be there, that was for sure. His arms are wrapped around you and he's holding you close, one knee against the ground while the other keeps him up.
You stare up at him, a different breath catching in your throat from being this close to him. You forgot how beautiful he was. You forgot how he almost stole your breath in your garden just from his beauty. No jewels or flowers or paintings could even compare to him.
You feel like your stomach is on fire. Or maybe there's a bird that's caught on fire that's slamming around in there. Your heart is beating fast and your stomach is lurching in the worst and best way possible and you can't breathe.
Was there something wrong with you?
"Princess, are you okay?" Prince Taeyong asks. He looks awfully worried, and you wonder if that's because you had just fallen or because you weren't answering him. You're pretty sure he's asked you multiple times if you were okay, but you were too busy staring at him to reply.
You release the breath that had caught in your throat and look away from him, nodding your head.
There was definitely something wrong with you.
"You caught me," you mumble out. It's not exactly what you want to say, but thank you won't come out.
"I did. Are you sure you're okay?" You nod again, and Taeyong finally moves from the position you're in. He helps you to your feet, dusting off your dress even though you're sure there's nothing on it.
It's a sweet gesture, nonetheless, but you still don't say thank you.
"Do you want me to get that book for you?" He asks when he's done. You look up at him, then over to the bookshelf where the book you wanted still sits in its place, moved not even an inch. You look back at Taeyong and nod once more.
"Okay."
You watch Taeyong walk over to the ladder, climb up it in a terribly slow fashion that you almost comment on but manage to shut yourself up because after all, he did just save you; watch as he reaches for the book, grabs it, and then climb down the ladder just as slowly as he did going up. He takes a breather at the bottom, his face scrunched up as if he was in pain before walking over to you and holding the book out.
"Here you go, Princess Y/N." You smile and take the book from him, walking back over to the table where you had left your other books. You put the last book on top of them and pick them up, turning back to Taeyong.
"Um..."
"Yes?" Taeyong smiles at you, so gently and lovingly and beautiful that your words catch in your throat and fall back down it.
You shake your head and rush away, back up the spiral staircase, back over to Jaehyun – ignoring any and all questions about your fall – and take a seat across from him before burying your face in the book Taeyong had gotten for you.
-
“Are you alright, princess?”
It’s a few hours later when Prince Jaehyun speaks to you. You've already started on your second book, the first one so exciting and magical that you couldn't help but read through the entire thing. The book you decided to read after was about the Neo Kingdom's history, so it was a good break from all the excitement you got from the first book.
And, now, Jaehyun talking to you was another break, one much needed after keeping your eyes glued to your readings for so many hours.
"You must really like books," he says. You nod your head, closing the history book and setting it in front of you.
"Knowledge is power," you say. Prince Jaehyun smiles at you, and you can't help but notice it doesn't have the same effect on you as it did at their hearing, nor does it make you feel like Taeyong's smile did. His smile was just a smile.
"Princess, are you listening?" He asks. You blink a few times before shaking your head.
"Sorry, I was lost in thought is all."
"I was only saying how I'm not sure how a fairytale about a dog turning into a human gives you knowledge, but, I'm sure you know better than me." You open your mouth to tell him that there was plenty of knowledge in fairytales, but your words die in your throat because it was an absolute lie.
Maybe you liked having knowledge and reading fairytales. Who was Jaehyun to judge?
"It's cute," he says. You cross your arms and roll your eyes. Cute. What an insult. "Do you like anything else besides fairytales? Not just books but other material things."
"Jewels. Food. Clothes. The usual things," you say. Jaehyun shakes his head, leaning in a little.
"No. I'm not asking about what the princess likes. I'm asking what Y/N likes. You seem like the type who loves all those usual things and other things that... perhaps some people would frown upon. Am I right?"
You frown at Jaehyun. Were you that easy to read?
"Why should I tell you?" You ask. Jaehyun shrugs and sits back.
"I'm only curious. If I'm to get closer to you, I'd like to know what things you like. It's only natural."
You shrug at his words. "It's not so much that people frown upon it but... It's stupid. I'm practically queen. If people knew I liked these things..." You trail off and uncross your arms, setting your hands in your lap. "You can't tell anyone else."
"Your secret is safe with me, Y/N."
You take a few minutes to actually get any words out. Mostly because you don't exactly trust Jaehyun, but he didn't seem like the type of person to go blabbing all your stupid secrets to others.
At least, not like Jisung did. The young prince always did that stuff to you, telling the knights things you didn't want them hearing, irritating you beyond compare.
But, Jaehyun seemed genuine. It would be okay.
And if he told anyone, you're sure he knew you'd probably end up throwing him into some dungeon for the rest of his life.
"Like I said, they're stupid but... I like pens. Ones where the ink seems like it flows forever. I like writing with them because everything always looks so beautiful when you write with them," you start. Jaehyun smiles, nodding his head for you to continue. "And I like those sturdy boots that soldiers wear. I can't wear them usually but when I was younger I snuck a pair out and wore it under my dress for an entire week! Oh, oh and ice cream! It's so delicious but my parents only let me eat it during social gatherings because I should eat healthier things but it's just so good...
"But, oh, my favorite thing are these chocolates that the baker makes! They're so delicious and not too sweet but not too bitter either and if I could live on those chocolates I would for the rest of my-
You stop, realizing how embarrassing all of that must have been to hear, especially coming from such a princess as yourself. You hadn't even expected to say all those things, but you guessed being able to talk about it at all made you ramble.
"Sorry," you quickly say, picking up the history book and shoving your face in it.
"Why are you sorry? I thought it was cute," Prince Jaehyun says, plucking the book out of your hands. "You can talk about whatever you want with me, princess."
You stare at Jaehyun for a short moment before shaking your head. "No I... I'd like to go back to reading."
Jaehyun frowns but gives the book back to you nonetheless, and once more, you fall into silence.
-
On the second day of your trip to the Neo Kingdom, Prince Taeyong asks you to take a trip into the city with him. Apparently the two princes vying for your hand in marriage had split the two days that you were there in half, one for each of them.
It was a smart move on their part, taking a day each for themselves to get to know you and win your affections a little more.
Though, Jaehyun's day had ended the moment your conversation did yesterday. It wasn't the best day spent, but, that was less his fault and more yours.
Not like you really thought much of the prince anyways. He wasn't anything special, nor did you think he was going to be anything special to you. He was just Prince Jaehyun.
Unlike a certain other prince.
Prince Taeyong somehow gets to you. He left you speechless, and shy, and like your stomach was exploding just by him existing. He was someone you couldn't figure out. You didn't know whether or not you'd become something special to each other.
Was he really so different just because he asked to court you?
"Princess." You look away from the carriage window to Taeyong, seeing a soft smile on his face. You try your best to frown at him, to be tough and bitter like your usual self, but you can't do it. You end up smiling back a little, raising your eyebrow to let him know he can continue.
"Would you like to see anything in particular? Your knights tell me you like sweets so if you'd like-
"Why are they always- Mark!" You open the door of the carriage and look out at Mark and Donghyuck who are surprised to see you peeking out of the carriage as it moves.
"Princess, you shouldn't-
"Shut up! Why do you keep telling people things about me?"
"Wha-
"No more talking on this trip! Understand?" You demand. Mark nods his head, and you move back into the carriage, slamming the door shut behind you. Taeyong is staring at you with an amused expression, and you actually frown at him, crossing his arms.
"Don't go asking people about me. You can just ask me things," you say. Taeyong laughs and you glare at him. "What?"
"Is it that big of a deal? You want me to come directly to you? No one else?" You feel like the prince is trying to imply something, but whatever it was you weren't going to bite, so you shake your head and look back out the window of the carriage in your own stubbornness.
"You're adorable, princess," Taeyong says.
Yesterday when Jaehyun called you cute, you thought of it as an insult.
Today when Taeyong does it, you feel your face flush.
Why was this one prince having such a ridiculous effect on you?
You don’t get to dwell on the matter much because in a matter of moments the carriage stops, the doors opening to let you out. Taeyong gestures you out first, and then after you're on the ground, he hobbles out after you.
Immediately you notice Taeyong struggle to walk towards the coachmen. He talks to them while leaning on one of his hips, one of his legs coming off the ground to most likely take pressure off of it.
Right away, you realize Taeyong is injured. It doesn't take much longer for you to figure out why, and you walk over to him, tugging at his hand.
"You're taking me out when you're injured? Are you stupid?" You ask. The prince stares at you for a moment before looking down at his leg. You tug at his hand again before he can say anything else and point to the carriage.
"We're going back. Right now."
"Princess, it's not that bad-
"You look like you can barely walk! A prince should take care of himself before anything else!" You let go of his hand and stalk over to Mark, sighing in annoyance.
"Get Prince Taeyong back in the carriage. We're going back to the castle," you say. Mark moves to get off his horse but Taeyong is at your side, grabbing your hand to get your attention.
"Princess, I appreciate you caring but-
"I don't care," you quickly say. Taeyong smiles and shakes his head. You're not sure why, because you didn't care about him. You just knew that royalty had to take care of themselves before everyone else. How could he take care of a kingdom if he couldn't care for himself?
You didn't care.
"Princess, it is an old injury. It flares up from time to time, that's all." You frown and gesture to Mark to continue with getting Taeyong back into the carriage, not believing him at all.
That doesn't stop Taeyong though. "Princess Y/N!"
Mark stops in his tracks and you look at the prince who is challenging your orders with a stern expression. You're not sure exactly what to say, because the only people who challenged your orders were your parents, and no matter what you wanted, you had to follow what they said.
No princes or kings or dukes challenged what you say. They were usually too busy trying to please you to challenge things you said.
Yet, here Taeyong was doing just that.
"You don't have jurisdiction here, princess. If I say my injury is fine, then it's fine. Please, let's just take a walk through the city together. It would be a waste of your time to go back to the castle now," Taeyong says. He wasn't wrong, but you didn't want him walking around with an injury, especially an injury you know you caused.
"If you don't care, princess, then we will continue with our trip through the city," he speaks up. You stare at him, glaring, wanting to smack that confident smirk off his face.
He had you trapped at this point. Either you admitted you cared and you went back to the palace, or you continued on with your day together.
Either way, Prince Taeyong won.
You're speechless at how easily he turned the tables on you, almost impressed with his tactics. It probably wasn't his intention, but, he clearly made it work.
That was something only smart, resourceful leaders could do.
"…lead the way, prince."
The walk around the city isn't as bad as you expect. The city is beautiful, not like the castle, but in its own right, with many buildings and lights and trees that give the place a quaint charm. Not to mention Taeyong actually does a good job at concealing his injury, at least enough that you don't really notice it anymore.
Not that you were watching for it, because you definitely were not. You didn't care.
You cared about the gorgeous market you were currently in though, the place that seemed to be the highlight of the city. There were many of vendors that sold food, snacks, sweets, fruits and vegetables, others that sold beautiful fabrics, ones that you're pretty sure the princes themselves wore and used in their home, and more that sold usual market things like tools, herbs and medicines, animals, and even one that had parchment and pens and ink.
At some point, when the prince is busy buying you some sweets, you go over to the vendor to look at his wares.
Some beautiful, silver and gold pens stand out to you, shimmering in the sunlight as they sit in their box, a dark red box that contrasts to the pens themselves. It only makes them prettier. Below the pens is a piece of paper, showing you how they write, and you sigh with fondness at the smooth lines and the dark ink.
It's a quality pen set, and you want it.
"Princess, is there something you like?" Prince Taeyong says behind you. You turn to look at him, and glance down at the pens for a few seconds before shaking your head.
It would've been easy to buy them yourself and hide them with Mark or Donghyuck, but now that Taeyong was here, he would know exactly what you bought.
He'd probably think being excited over some quality pens was stupid anyways.
"Are you sure?" You nod your head and begin walking in the opposite direction of the vendor, back towards where Mark and Donghyuck were currently eating some street food that looked absolutely delicious. Taeyong joins you a minute or two later, holding out the bag of sweets for you and you happily take it, but even as you enjoy it, you still think about those pens you had passed on.
-
The day you get back to your own castle, Mark hands you a package addressed to you from Prince Taeyong. You take it hesitantly, not sure what he could possibly have gotten you when you had been with him the entire second day of your trip to his kingdom. You shake the wrapped-up box, wondering if maybe the gift he had gotten you was another necklace like the first gift.
If so, you would probably have to put it with the other one, only being able to admire the beautifully crafted jewelry when you were in your bedroom. Not because you didn't like it, but, you weren't really one for jewelry unless the occasion called for it. You liked staring at pretty things more than showing them off to people.
"What is it?" You ask Mark. He shrugs, gesturing for you to open it. You frown and shake it again, and, when no sound comes out, begin to open it.
"I hope it's not more jewelry..."
"Maybe you should tell him you don't like wearing jewelry," Mark says. You nod your head as you get the wrapping off of the box, handing it over to Mark to toss. You're left with a sleek dark red box, something you're pretty sure you've seen before.
"Oh, there's a letter princess," Mark says. He holds out a small piece of folded paper, and you take it, seeing Taeyong's initials on the front. You open it up, and quickly read it, an eyebrow raising at his words.
I think you'll like this gift better than the first one. You seemed to really like these but didn't buy them? You're very back and forth princess. If you wanted them, I would've bought them for you. Hopefully, in the future, you and I can have a little more trust. Enjoy, princess.
You quickly hand the note back to Mark and finally open the box, your eyes widening at the contents inside.
There, staring back at you, were the pens from the market that had caught your eye, shining just as beautifully as they had done when you first laid eyes on them. You look up at Mark who is smiling at you, and then back at the pens, and then back at Mark as your fingers curl tightly around the box.
"I hate him," you say. Mark's smile turns into a frown and you shake your head, quickly snatching the letter back from Mark and placing it in the box before putting the top back over it. "I hate that stupid prince so much that when I see him I want to hug him until he can't breathe so then he knows how I feel just by looking at him-
"Uh, princess?" You turn on your heel and begin stalking back to your quarters, Mark following you in complete confusion as you do.
"Mark, I'm going to write a letter and I want it sent to the Neo Kingdom by the end of the day, got it?" You say to Mark when you reach your bedroom door. He nods his head slowly, not sure what to do with you right now.
"Are you okay princess? I thought you liked pens..."
"I do, Mark- but I hate stupid princes who confuse me and make me feel like I’m deserving of wonderful gifts when I’m an absolute snob and have no redeeming qualities like all those other princesses who he would probably love in an instant and instead of going after them he's going after me! A stupid princess who can’t even admit that I might have feelings for him and care about him because I’m too afraid he’s just after something like everyone else!”
"...You're not as bad as you think you are, princess," Mark says after a few moments of silence. You sniffle, tears pricking at your eyes.
"You have to say that, Mark. You're part of my guard."
"That's not true. I would think that regardless, princess." Mark reaches out to take your hand, making you look at him. He's smiling at you again, soft and loving like usual. He's only ever smiled at you like that. "A snobby princess wouldn't look at a bunch of poor kids and make them into her guard. She wouldn't go into the town to see how things were in her kingdom, and then do her best to fix whatever problems there might be.
"A snobby princess wouldn't care for her people, or her servants, or anyone around her, but you do all of that, Princess Y/N. Just because you like expensive and beautiful things doesn't mean you're a terrible princess, or a terrible person. You have a strong opinion, and that might come off as really standoffish, but you're a caring and soft person at heart.
"I'm not surprised at all that Prince Taeyong wants to court you," he finishes. He moves his other hand to wipe at the tears that had fallen, ones you had not even realized had done so.
You weren't really one to cry, but you supposed since all your emotions and feelings were all over the place, it was a good as time as any.
"He hadn't met me before though," you say, still not convinced about the prince.
"But your name gets around a lot. Almost everyone knows you."
"So he was in love with the idea of me?" Mark is quiet, turning over your words in his head before nodding at you.
"I think so. And now I think he genuinely likes you and wants to get to know you more." Mark squeezes your hand once more and pats your cheek. "I think you're a great princess, Y/N. And I think giving Prince Taeyong a chance wouldn't be such a bad idea."
"...what about Prince Jaehyun? You don't think he likes me or anything?" You ask. Mark shrugs.
"I think all the princes liked you. But from the start you only really gave Prince Taeyong a chance."
You sniffle and pull away from Mark. "What if you're wrong and he ends up hating me or just wanting something from me?"
"Then I'll take care of him. No one hurts my princess," Mark says. He stands tall, looking nothing like the poor boy you took off the streets, but instead like the knight captain he had been trained to be. It makes you sniffle again, and you pull him in for a crushing hug, so, so, so happy that you had Mark by your side.
-
A few weeks pass between your previous visit to the Neo Kingdom and Prince Taeyong's next visit to yours. It's a slow few weeks, with nothing really exciting going on besides a civil war in the Exo Kingdom that keeps your parents occupied, and Mark's love life suddenly becoming a thing that has all your knights talking and teasing.
You try to pay no mind to most of it, instead focusing on Taeyong.
Ever since your talk with Mark, you had been thinking a lot about him again, just like after he had asked to court you. You went back and forth daily about whether or not to accept his courtship, getting lost in thought constantly when your mind wandered to it.
It didn't help that he would send gifts to you in the time apart, with letters attached to each one. Every gift was so thoughtful and something you liked, and you wondered if maybe Jaehyun had told Taeyong about that conversation you had in the library.
If he had, he was going to be sent to a dungeon one way or another.
Your mind didn't sit on that thought long though, instead going back to Taeyong and the letters he had sent you. You would read them over and over as you wrote your own letter back, but ultimately threw away all of them.
It was easy for him to talk about his thoughts and everything when it wasn't face to face, that was obvious, but you couldn't. If you were going to talk to him, you needed to do it when you were together.
That's why he was visiting your kingdom again.
You were currently sitting in your garden, staring up at the flowers that were just starting to bloom. Soon enough, with enough love and care, they would blossom into the beautiful flowers you loved to look at. The pinks and reds and oranges would mix together and make any bad feelings you ever had float away.
As long as you were looking at them.
"Princess."
You freeze up at the voice asking for you, turning around after taking a few moments to see Taeyong. His hair isn’t black anymore, instead a bright pink that makes you look at your flowers for a moment. They were the same color, you could’ve sworn. You turn back to him to question him about it, but your eyes drift down to a gift in his hand, wrapped nicely in a beautiful pink paper. You stare at it for a moment, trying to guess what it is, but you're a princess, and you should just ask about these things. You look back up at Taeyong with a raised eyebrow.
"What's that?" He smiles at you and holds it out for you.
"My last present."
You frown at Taeyong's words, staring at the gift. What did he mean by his last one? Was he done giving you gifts? Was he done trying to court you? You look back up at him and narrow your eyes.
"Why your last?" You ask. He steps forward, moving the gift into your hands.
"I don't think you like me very much, princess," he says. He takes a step back and gestures at the gift. "Open it up."
"What do you mean I don't- how would you know what I like? You're not me, now are you?" You shove the gift back at him and glare.
"I won't accept this if it's your last present."
Taeyong opens his mouth to speak, but ultimately doesn't know what to say. He and you sit there in the garden in silence, your hands clenching into fists at hearing Taeyong's words.
He didn't know anything.
He didn't know how you felt and didn't understand why you were cautious. He didn't know that you looked at him and felt breathless. He didn't know that he was the first people to give you butterflies in your stomach like all the storybook princes did. He didn't know you spent countless hours trying to write back a letter to him. He didn't know how he made you feel. He didn't know how he confused you beyond belief just by being himself.
He didn't know.
"Princess- why are you crying- I'm sorry if I-
"I hate you," you blurt out. You move a fist to Taeyong's shoulder and punch it gently, not having the strength to hurt him. "I hate you because you don't know all the things you do to me and you bought me those pens and kept giving me things I like and I'm really scared Taeyong because I think I'm falling for you and if it's all just some big joke to you I don't want to be heartbroken so just- just..."
You punch him again before wiping at the tears that had come out. You felt so pathetic right now.
You were a princess. You were powerful and tough and weren't supposed to cry and feel pathetic about yourself.
Especially not when a prince was involved.
Prince Taeyong was messing everything up.
"Princess." You look up at Taeyong, who is looking at you with a serious expression. There's nothing else written on his face, no joking eyes or a hint of a smile. He's just serious, knowing this wasn't a matter to be fooling around during.
"I would never consider this a joke. I like you. I like you and I want to court you. I've never wavered from that decision from the very start."
You wipe at your eyes until it seems like the tears have stopped for now, and then sniffle. "What if you waver somewhere down the line? What if you realize I'm not who you want?"
Taeyong smiles at you, that soft smile you had seen in the library, and it makes the bad feelings that are suffocating you pull away. They're still there of course, but they're not as hard on you as they had been and you’re pretty sure as long as you’re looking at him, all the bad feelings will go away.
"I don't think my feelings for you are ever going to change," he says. He lifts up the box in his hands and holds it out to you. "Another present for you, princess."
You stare at the gift for a long moment before taking the box from him, shaking it a little. "What is it?"
"Open it up and you'll see."
You do as Taeyong asks, unfolding the wrapping paper neatly, not wanting to cause a mess. You pass the wrapping paper over to him before examining the box, and your heart nearly stops when you see what's wrapped inside.
It was a box of chocolates from the bakery in town, a renowned maker of the most delicious sweets in the country. His chocolate was your favorite, but he never made them for you because "you were spoiled" and even though you were giving him business and gold, making three boxes of his most famous chocolates four times a week was apparently too much for him.
"I know you said to ask you directly, but, I went against your wishes this one time. I asked your brother what your favorite sweets were because I know you like them and he told me these were your favorite. I thought as a parting gift I would give them to you but now it is just something I hope you like." You look up at Taeyong, watching his face, seeing his smile, seeing the softness and the love he has for you in his eyes.
You blink a few times, the wet feeling of tears running down your cheeks again. Taeyong freaks out immediately, coming to wipe at your tears and ask what was wrong once more.
You're pretty sure Taeyong was far too good for you. He got you your favorite chocolates. Even if he asked and you told him not to, he got you them because he knew you liked sweets. Instead of getting you something everyone else would get you, he gave you something he knew you would like. He thought about how you would feel.
Taeyong was far too good for you.
But, would it okay to be selfish this time around too and take what you wanted?
"Princess, I'm sorry if I upset you I thought- I'll take the chocolate back- I'm so sorry."
You shake your head and set the chocolate on the bench next to you, wiping at the rest of your tears. There was no time for crying, only action. You were going to be selfish and take what you wanted.
That was always who you were. And you had to stick to character.
You turn back to Taeyong and grab at the front of his shirt, bringing him close to you. He blinks at you, confused beyond belief, and you shake your head.
"I can't believe you."
"Huh-"
Taeyong's lips are soft against yours. They're as soft as you imagined, as soft as you daydreamed about. You and he meld well together, your lips pressing in a way you've never felt before. A first kiss with Taeyong was everything you could've asked for.
You pull away a moment later, letting go of him and picking up your chocolate. He's in a daze and you take this as your chance to walk off, holding your chocolate close to your chest with a smile on your face.
"Princess, wait!"
"I have to go, Taeyong!"
"But- what does that mean?"
You turn around and smile at Taeyong. "It means I accept your proposal."
#lee taeyong scenarios#lee taeyong imagines#nct scenarios#nct 127 scenarios#nct fanfic#nct imagines#taeyong scenarios#taeyong imagines#sheep writes#this was supposed to be longer but the princess is clearly not the kind of girl#i'm satisfied with the end result#also rip to anyone this doesn't work for on mobile#blame this hellsite
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Title: I’ve Got You in My Slice - Chapter 5 - The Reaper Comes for Your Rolls!! Pairing: Reaper76 Rating: Teen Tags: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Police, Bad Puns, Fluff, Slow Build, Slow Burn Chapter: 5/? Summary:
“Reaper?” he asked.
“Yeah! Reaper!” Jack got up to fetch his phone from behind the counter, and fiddled with it briefly before sitting back down and showing it to Gabriel. There, on the small screen, was a picture — a bathroom selfie, no less — of Jack with a rather peculiar-looking cat, all black save for white markings on its face that made Gabriel think of a bird’s skull.
After 6 months of waiting, here’s an update for you all. Thank you guys for your patience! <3
Surprisingly, despite the impending barrage of holidays, not much had changed in Gabriel's day-to-day life. As usual, he made sure to go back visit his family the day after Halloween to celebrate Dia de los Muertos — bringing abuelo’s favorite brand of mezcal to drink and leave at the family altar, which he also helped with, and staying the night — as well as on Thanksgiving, when the only particular thing of interest that happened was the turkey exploding in the fryer because his brother-in-law — the husband of his oldest sister, Isabela — hadn't thawed it as completely as he originally thought. Thankfully no one had been injured, nothing had burned down, and his second-oldest sister, Carmen, had the forethought of making another turkey ‘just in case’. But nevertheless, the story was interesting and amusing enough to get a few laughs out of Jack when he told it, which made the Thanksgiving migraine worth it in the end, at least.
“What did you do for Thanksgiving? You spend it with your family too?” Gabriel asked when Jack returned to his table with a refill of coffee in his travel mug.
“Oh, no, it's too expensive and too much of a hassle for me to fly back to Indiana for Thanksgiving. Especially when I'm going to be flying back for Christmas anyway,” Jack replied, shaking his head. “I spent most of Thanksgiving at home with Reaper, before I came here to prep for the Black Friday rush.”
It made sense that Jack had the sense to prep and open the bakery to take advantage of Black Friday and all the people that were out getting their shopping on. If Gabriel remembered properly, Jack even had a sign outside the entire week before, announcing the bakery’s special hours on Thanksgiving and the day after. A part of him wondered how well it went, given the nightmare stories he'd heard from some of his fellow officers about needing to assist certain stores with crowd control — Gabriel himself was on patrol that night — and Jack had to change the store's hours to accommodate his morning rushes and allow for midday baking and restocking. How on earth did Jack manage to handle the floods of people no doubt prowling for early-morning munchies and coffee?
But as Jack hadn't looked all that much worse for the wear, and the store opened without incident the next day, Gabriel decided not to ask. He also wondered when Jack would finally get some help with the store, but also kept his mouth shut, knowing it was a rather touchy subject. As open-minded and keen experimenting with things — baking recipes and the like — Jack was surprisingly stubborn.
Instead, he raised an eyebrow and looked at Jack curiously. “Reaper?” he asked.
“Yeah! Reaper!” Jack got up to fetch his phone from behind the counter, and fiddled with it briefly before sitting back down and showing it to Gabriel. There, on the small screen, was a picture — a bathroom selfie, no less — of Jack with a rather peculiar-looking cat, all black save for white markings on its face that made Gabriel think of a bird’s skull. It was kind of spooky looking, to say the least, and though it certainly fit with Gabriel's aesthetics, for some reason the hairs on his neck stood on end and a shiver of something both strange and familiar ran up his spine.
He didn’t dwell on it for too long, and shook it off as much as he could before handing Jack back his phone. “It certainly looks the part, at least. And I should've known you'd name your cat something punny too, given how much you love your jokes. Don't tell me, it's spelled R-E-A-P-U-R-R?”
Jack merely laughed and shook his head. “As amazing as that spelling would be, no, it's not. I wasn't the one that named him.”
“Oh, you adopted him, then?”
“Something like that. You know how there are a lot of strays that like to hang out in the alley behind the store? Reaper showed up in the bunch one night — the day after Halloween, if I remember right — and just kinda… attached himself to me?” Jack shrugged. “I checked his collar to see if he had an owner, but he only had a nametag on him. I checked for a chip too, but he didn't have one of those, either.”
“Still... You sure it's such a good idea to just take in some random stray like that?” Gabriel asked, recalling some horror stories several years back about someone taking in a stray only to learn the hard way after it died suddenly that it also had rabies.
“Yeah! I took him to the vet to get a quick look at him and got him all up-to-date on shots,” Jack nodded, “Plus, Reaper is a really smart — if a little clingy — cat, he follows me to and from the store every day. Even knows how to use the toilet!”
Just as Gabriel was about to comment about how bizarre that last tidbit was, both his and Jack’s attention were drawn to the front door.
As if on cue, a loud but muffled meow was heard from outside, followed by a light scratching at one of the glass panels. Sure enough, there sat the spitting image of the cat from Jack’s picture, staring into the store as if demanding entrance. Its gaze settled onto Gabriel, and after several moments of staring without blinking — Gabriel could swear the cat was glaring at him or sizing him up — it meowed again and slapped a paw onto the glass. It turned its head towards Jack, and gave one last meow before dropping its paw and sat patiently waiting.
“Oh shit, Reaper!” Jack cursed slightly as he got up from his chair, “You’re not supposed to be out front like that!” He opened the door enough for himself to slip outside and not let the cat in, and picked it up when it appeared to meow at him again. It seemed to settle down in Jack’s arms, at least, and if the look on its face and swishing tail were any indication, it was likely purring like a motor as well.
As amusing as it was to watch from inside as Jack bounced slightly in place while petting the cat in his arms, and apparently scolding it, Gabriel couldn’t say no when Jack nodded at him from outside, beckoning him to go outside. Sighing, Gabriel stood up, taking his mug with him and hiding a few bills underneath the empty plate as payment for the food plus a small tip — something he resorted to doing after Jack kept refusing to accept more than half the normal price of his food due to his ‘guinea pig’ status — before going out to meet Jack’s new kinda-sorta-pet-slash-stalker.
“Reaper, say hi to my friend, Gabriel,” Jack said, turning slightly so the cat was facing him. Reaper gave Gabriel the same kind of soul-piercing stare as it did before, watching him silently until Jack gave it a nudging scratch behind the ear. It purred lowly until Jack’s coddling stopped. Almost reluctantly, it meowed in greeting at Gabriel. When Gabriel reached over to give it a pet, however, Reaper lept out of Jack’s arms and darted away, turning the corner to no doubt disappear into the alleyway.
“Guess he’s not a fan of me,” Gabriel shrugged.
“I wouldn't take it personally. He might just be a little catty around strangers,” Jack ribbed.
“You said he follows you around though, right?” Gabriel asked, pretending like Jack hadn't made any pun at all.
“Are you trying to say I'm strange?” Jack huffed, holding a hand to his chest as if Gabriel had hurt his feelings.
“I didn't say anything,” Gabriel snorted, smirking as he took a sip from his travel mug.
“You're hilarious,” Jack replied, crossing his arms. The look of amusement on his face did nothing to help sell how horribly Gabriel's barb had injured him.
“Anyway,” Gabriel began, looking at his watch, “My shift’s about to start. I'll see you tomorrow.”
He took a few steps forward before he felt a tugging on the back of his jacket.
“Sorry. Hold on a sec,” Jack said. He let go of Gabriel and began rummaging in his apron pocket before fishing out a worn, brown leather wallet and holding it out. “This belongs to Officer McCree. He left it here last night. I texted him to ask for his address so I could drop it off, but he told me to just hand it to you. He's on duty today too, right?”
“Yeah, he is,” Gabriel replied, taking the wallet, and opening it up. Sure enough, there was Jesse's ID, the grin on his portrait even goofier than how Gabriel remembered his last ID picture looked. He tucked the wallet in his breast pocket and began to walk off again before he stopped in his tracks. “Wait. Texted ? Why does McCree have your number?”
“He asked me for it?” Jack shrugged, “I told him I wasn't interested, and he's not my type, but he insisted. Said something about wanting it anyway in case I wanted another friend to hang out with that wasn't — and I quote — ‘a grump with a stick-up-his-ass.”
Gabriel tried to school his expression and keep it as neutral as possible, and surprised even himself when he somehow managed it. He let out a short, “Huh,” and took another sip of coffee to gather his thoughts. “I'll have a word with him later, then.”
Jack laughed, and waved his hand dismissively, “Don't tell him I told you he said that!”
“Oh, I'm not gonna talk to him about that,” Gabriel muttered under his breath. When Jack tilted his head in confusion, Gabriel simply shook his head. “Don't worry about it,” he said, giving Jack a quick wave before heading off to the station.
“Oh, okay…” Jack replied, still looking slightly confused as he waved back, “Have a nice day, then!”
Sure enough, when Gabriel got to the station, Jesse was at his desk, typing up something or another on his computer. Gabriel took the wallet from his pocket and tossed onto the desk in front of him, drawing Jesse's attention away from the screen when it thudded gently on the wooden surface between his forearms.
“Oh, hey! You got it! Thanks, boss!” Jesse laughed happily as he tucked the wallet back into his pocket. “Mornin’, by the way!”
“Morning,” Gabriel grunted. He folded his arms and frowned slightly. Unable to help himself, he went on to ask, “Mind telling me why you have Jack's number?”
The grin on Jesse's face grew even wider. “No reason! Just thought the guy could use another friend around these parts, what with him still being new-ish to the neighborhood and all!”
Gabriel tilted his head, expression still unimpressed and looking doubtful.
Jesse laughed, and held his hands up in surrender. “Honest ta god, boss. I was just bein’ friendly! You got nothin’ to worry ‘bout, anyhow. Said he wasn't interested when I first asked.”
Gabriel let out a quiet ‘harrumph’ before he went to his desk. Shrugging off his jacket, he draped it over the back of his chair before he sat down, still clearly displeased. He'd known Jack for several months now and he still didn't have his number. Granted, he stopped by the bakery at least three times a week — down from the four originally; didn't want to come off as a creep, after all — and there was no real need to have Jack's number when they met in person so often, but still...
He was briefly torn out of his foul mood when Lena walked over with a bridal magazine in hand, asking him what he thought about her fiancée’s, Emily’s, choice in wedding gown.
“Oxton, why the hell are you asking me?” Gabriel asked, after realizing he had spent the last several minutes looking over pictures of dresses.
“I figured you'd be able to help us narrow down what would look best with my dress, since you know fabrics and drapings and all,” Lena replied, looking at Gabriel with wide eyes as if the answer were obvious.
“Oxton, I make costumes as a hobby. I don't design dresses or work as a wedding planner! Didn't Emily hire someone to help you guys for this reason?” Gabriel frowned, gathering the various pictures strewn across his desk into a neat pile and handing it back to Lena.
“Yeah, but I also figured since you're the one that's gonna be actin’ as my dad durin’ the ceremony, it'd be nice to get your opinion, at least…” Lena answered in a quiet voice, looking slightly like a kicked puppy. Gabriel pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He never could stand up against that look.
Still frowning, he flipped through the stack of pictures in his hands again, reorganizing the pile after a bit of quiet deliberation, and holding it back out once again. “The top three would be the ones that flatter Emily's figure and complement your dress the best. Now get back to work before Amari catches me helping you pick out your wedding cake and yells at me for ‘slacking off’,” Gabriel turned to his computer and waved Lena off.
“Thank you!” she chirped happily. “And you don't need to worry about that! Emily and I already narrowed down what kind of cake we want.” She smiled, taking the stack of pictures, and turned to start heading back to her desk when she suddenly jolting in place.
“Oh! That reminds me! I need to text Jack and let him know what time Emily and I will be there for the taste-testing!” she exclaimed in realization, mostly to herself. With a renewed cheer, she quickly zipped off back to her desk, fishing out her phone and tapping away at it with a smile plastered to her face.
Gabriel's bad mood quickly sunk back in. Lena had Jack's number too? That was-!
He took a deep breath and shook his head. It would make sense that the Lena would have Jack’s number if he was to be the one making their wedding cake. Jack wasn't giving out his number to just anyone and everyone.
...everyone but Gabriel, that was.
Things came to a head near the end of his shift when Liao, of all people, offered to text Jack and see if he would be able to make a cake in time for the station's holiday party in two weeks. Why the heck did Liao have Jack's number?! If he recalled correctly, Liao had only ever been to Jack's bakery once, and that was with Gabriel after they had coincidentally run into each other on their day off and during their morning jog. Unless he went there again sometime after, and asked Jack for his number… which dredged up even more questions in Gabriel's already-preoccupied mind.
He left the station that night with the same contemplative frown he had that morning, internally grumbling at how it seemed everyone but him had Jack's number and struggling to figure out the best way to ask without seeming too desperate or forward. He enjoyed Jack's company, and didn't want to ruin their casual friendship just yet. Plus, if Jack were to reject him like he did with Jesse, Gabriel wasn't sure if he'd be able to set foot into For Goodness’ Cake ever again.
Surprisingly, his opportunity to get Jack's number came in a way he never would have expected. When he got home to his apartment, he was met with the sight of an all-too-familiar black-and-white cat lurking outside his window.
“Reaper?! What the heck?!” he scrambled to open the window, quickly and carefully as to not startle the cat to the point where it would fall of the rather small ledge and injure itself. With a tiny huff through its nose, the cat jumped from the opened window into his apartment and skittered off to curl up on his couch.
“Hey, Reaper, this isn't your home. Why are you even here? Why aren't you with Jack? He's gonna be worried sick about you,” Gabriel scolded, and tried to pick Reaper up. He got a hiss and furry slap across the face for his trouble — thankfully Reaper had the courtesy not to let out its claws — and quickly reeled back in shock.
“Shit!” he yelped, “What the hell, Reaper?! Did you come here just to make my day even worse?”
Reaper ignored him, and curled up the same way as it did before, closing its eyes and sleeping. Or pretending to sleep. Gabriel couldn't tell, and to be frank, he couldn't be bothered. He growled under his breath and let the cat be, huffing as he left the living room to shower, make a quick dinner, and head to bed.
To his knowledge, Reaper stayed curled up and asleep on the couch until the very next morning, when it jolted right up at the sound of the apartment door unlocking. Without any sort of prompting, it darted out of the apartment as Gabriel held the door open, and even waited at the bottom of the stairs for him to catch up.
Jack was right, Reaper was a very smart cat. It was almost unsettling how smart it was. As if keenly aware of Gabriel's usual route, it led the way to the bakery, with Gabriel trailing behind it the entire time.
When they finally reached the bakery, sure enough, Jack was outside, as usual, setting up the sign of the day's special bakes. The expression on his face was more contemplative than usual, his brows furrowed and forming a rather obvious line on his forehead. Reaper meowed loudly as it approached Jack, and almost immediately, Jack seemed to cheer up at the sight of Reaper. His expression brightened up even more when his gaze landed on Gabriel, causing Gabriel's heart to skip a beat as it usually did whenever Jack looked at him like that.
Crouching down, Jack held out his arms for Reaper to leap into, catching the clever cat, and spoiling it with affectionate pets and scratches.
“How did this happen?” Jack asked, utterly bewildered. “Reaper didn't follow me home last night or to the bakery this morning, so I was worried sick something might have happened to him!” The way Jack's hands unconsciously continued to spoil the cat with affection didn't escape Gabriel's notice, and he couldn't help the small smile that crept its way onto his face at the look of contentment on Reaper’s face.
“I don't know why or how he even got there, but I found him hanging outside my window last night. Reaper didn't want to seem to want to budge from my couch at all, and I figured since it was so late and you'd already closed and I didn't have your number, I may as well let him stay the night and bring him back here in the morning,” Gabriel shrugged. Reaper opened its eyes to stare at him, as if fully aware of his white lie, and judging him, but Gabriel ignored it in favor of maintaining eye contact with Jack.
“Thank you for doing that. I really appreciate it,” Jack said appreciatively, relief written across his face as clear as day. “Like I said, I was really worried about this little guy. My apartment felt kinda empty without him around.”
“No problem,” Gabriel replied, feeling nervous about what he wanted to say next.
After a few moments, he swallowed the lump in his throat and gathered enough nerves to finally ask, “Um, in case this happens again, do you have any way for me to contact you? Like a phone number or something?” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, terrified that Jack might jump to the conclusion he catnapped Reaper just to get the chance to ask for Jack’s number.
“Oh, yeah, sure!” Jack beamed. “Let's head inside so I can get yours too!” He crouched back down to let Reaper down, and with a quiet meow, the cat dropped from his arms and scampered away, slapping Gabriel's leg with its tail as it passed. ‘ You owe me for this,’ it almost seemed to say, and Gabriel inwardly thanked the cat for the setup.
“Sure,” Gabriel replied, trying to control the grin beginning to form on his face, and fighting the urge to pump his fist in triumph. He was going to get Jack's number, and he managed to ask without making things awkward or a fool out of himself! The urge did overtake him before he was able to make it through the front door, and with a quiet, “Yes!”, Gabriel did a small fist pump when Jack disappeared into the bathroom to wash his hands and likely dust off whatever cat hair Reaper shed on his clothes. Gabriel would later attempt to do the same to his couch when he returned home that night, only to be utterly surprised to find not a single cat hair anywhere in his apartment.
“Did you say something?” Jack asked as he exited the bathroom, tossing away the paper towel in his hands before the door swung closed behind him.
“No, nothing,” Gabriel replied, shaking his head.
Jack shot him a quick look of confused amusement before fetching his phone. He unlocked it and set it on the counter.
“I can never remember what my number is, so could you punch in yours and call yourself while I get this bread out of the oven? They're the prosciutto, cheese, and balsamic onion ones you tasted the last week and said you really liked. I figured I'd roll them out this week and see how popular they are.”
“Sure,” Gabriel answered, ignoring the pun completely. He focused his attention onto Jack’s phone, doing exactly what was asked of him as Jack disappeared behind the swinging steel door. He could almost feel his heart racing slightly when entering in his number, and when his own phone rang, it figuratively soared into the stratosphere.
Finally getting Jack's number put his spirit in such a good mood that day that he couldn't even find it in himself to get angry when he got to his desk and he discovered Jack snuck two extra rolls into his bag. Nor did he even bat an eye when Jesse approached him at his desk, and handed Gabriel $5. “Jack said you dropped this in his store yesterday. It's not like you to be so clumsy, boss,” Jesse scolded playfully before walking off.
Gabriel would just get Jack again next time.
#reaper76#jack morrison#gabriel reyes#soldier 76#reaper#jive writes stuff#jive fic: i've got you in my slice
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A Hard Lesson in Valiance: Chapter 12
Authors’ Note: Happy Tuesday, everyone!!! Lots of surprises last night. And now Rafael is a man on a mission. Read on to find out what he has up his sleeve! @vintagemichelle91 and I hope that you enjoy!!!
“You sure he’s not like a cousin of yours or something?” Fin asked.
Peering through the mirror into the interrogation room, Rafael saw Ramirez tap a can of soda before cracking open the aluminum for a drink. He looked no worse for the wear. Because Natalia had endured the brunt of his cruelty. Wanting to smash the glass, he watched Rollins circle the room as Liv stayed fixed to her chair.
“Nevada Ramirez,” Liv began. “You got a rap sheet a mile long.”
“My reputation precedes me,” he said.
“Does it ever,” Liv replied. “Makes me wonder why you came back.”
“I have interests to attend to.”
“Do those interests extend to accosting Natalia Barba in the park this afternoon?” Rollins asked. Ramirez lazily looked over his shoulder and shot her a small smile as his hands trailed down his legs.
“That was different,” he said. “Eso fue un asunto personal. We were just getting reacquainted when your thug busted in.”
“Man’s digging his own grave,” Fin said. But Rafael feared that the dirt could… that it would choke Natalia if Ramirez stayed close.
“What is this really?” Ramirez questioned. “I’m the injured party. You should be slapping the bracelets on her.”
Not if he could help it.
“Can you give us a moment?”
Fin had his back as Liv’s eyes centered on his face. But Rafael focused only on Ramirez. The man slouched in his seat, his smirk stretching the length of the room. What would have happened had he met him years ago in the Bronx? No doubt Rafael would have said too much, been bloodied before Eddie managed a few well-placed punches.
Now he had to take him down on his own.
“Barba?”
Looking to Liv, he nodded towards the door.
“The lady wants to help,” Ramirez sneered. “Do you need a niñera?”
“I’m good,” he said. “Do you need the backup?”
“What do you think?”
Sitting across from him, Rafael folded his hands against the tabletop as Rollins took the cue to exit, Fin almost following her.
“Next time you cross my path you won’t be so lucky,” Fin threatened.
“We’ll see about that.”
With that they left. But Liv lingered.
“Barba?” she asked. “Do you know what you’re doing here?”
“I’m handling this, Lieutenant.”
When he glared, her eyes glazed over. Still a fight for another day, and as soon as she slammed the door shut, Rafael looked to his hands, allowing himself a moment where he envisioned them forming fists and pummeling the smug expression from his double’s face.
“Your esposa just can’t keep away from me.”
And Ramirez seemed ready for the fight.
“That’s quite an active fantasy life you have,” Rafael said, slowly meeting the other man’s eyes.
“You didn’t see her in the park,” Ramirez responded. “All weak in the knees for our reunion. Tell me something?”
“That’s vague,” Rafael answered. “You want to talk about the weather?”
“Hot out there tonight!” Ramirez said, rolling up his sleeves and taking a sip from the can of Coke. “Steamier when Natalia showed up. Tell me…”
He leaned closer, and Rafael felt his carbonated breath tinged with tobacco wash over his face.
“She look like that good the first time around? She’s got this glow about her.”
A part of him wished that Natalia had managed to plunge the knife into his heart. Or whatever he called the organ beating in his chest. But he kept that secret to himself and unfolded his hands, planting his palms on the table.
“She always looks beautiful,” Rafael said.
Even when she was crying. Even when the sight of her sad sliced his soul.
“Don’t I know it,” Ramirez hissed.
“My turn,” Rafael muttered.
“You didn’t answer—”
“That’s all you’re getting,” Rafael said, his voice thick.
“Guess you don’t put out. But Natalia does.” Ramirez fell back with a laugh and coiled his fingers behind his head.
“You son of a—”
“Natalia plays hard to get, but I know she likes what we have.”
“You have nothing,” Rafael insisted.
“So sure about that?” Ramirez asked.
Counting to ten, willing his want to kill away, Rafael took a deep breath before starting in again.
“I have a proposition for you.”
Ramirez’s eyebrows arched, and his cheeks expanded, another stream of arrogant air filling the room before he downed the rest of his drink.
“You offering the blonde or the bull dyke?” Ramirez asked, looking towards the two-way mirror. “Can’t really say that either one is really my type. But together they might be worth the price of admission.”
“You couldn’t handle them,” Rafael said.
“Speak from experience? They good fucks?”
“I speak as someone who knows that they could send you to the tombs with your limp dick ready to fall off if you cross them.”
“Whoa!” Ramirez clapped his hands together and kicked at the legs of the table. “What do you get up to around here?”
He almost honored that with a retort but just as quickly dialed his rage back and stilled his feet on the floor.
“A conversation for another day,” Rafael said. “Let’s talk about you.”
“I’d rather talk about those lady cops. Or better yet… Natalia.”
Ramirez spoke her name as if she belonged to him.
“Must be problemas en el paraiso,” he said. “Couldn’t manage to knock her up again. Bet you tried. And look at me. One and done. Natalia knows it. She can say all she wants that it’s yours. But la verdad duele.”
Why hadn’t he hired anyone else but Carmen… kept a closer eye on Ward…?
“Usually I am un hombre que perdona,” Ramirez continued. “Tonight she came into my club, got out of line, and—”
“What if we found a way to let that slide?” Rafael asked. Obviously emboldened, Ramirez rose from his chair, his smirk intensifying.
“What’s on the table?” Ramirez asked.
Something that stuck in the back of his throat and threatened to turn his stomach inside out if it dropped too deep and festered in his bloodstream. Rafael gave himself five seconds, let his wrath cool. Only then did he leave his seat and join him beside the window, their matching reflections meeting like some twisted joke.
“More than the likes of you could ever fathom.”
One image left the glass, and Rafael felt Ramirez’s eyes burrowing into his cheek as he gripped the windowsill.
“You have my attention,” he said.
He needed much more than that.
“I… how would you like a life where you could conduct your… business and never have to worry about the long arm of the law?” Rafael asked, quietly.
“Interesante,” Ramirez said. “You gonna keep talking or—?”
Seizing his hand, fighting the urge to crush his bones and leave him howling, Rafael found the other pair of green eyes and spoke fast.
“I’m talking no threats from the policia,” he started. “Or the DA’s office. I’ll fix it so that you can do what you will without any fear of repercussions. Let’s call it a gold card that you can cash in over and over again.”
“Go on.”
Seeing that Ramirez was intrigued, Rafael moved in for what he hope would be another kind of kill.
“No one will try to take you down. Only your rivals locked up if there’s a raid. Think of how much product you could move. The territory that would be yours alone.”
And the ways that he would have to scramble to keep up with the promise and his nose clean. But he was willing to do chance it. So that Natalia could fall back into his arms contented and never have to so much as think of Nevada Ramirez again. So that Violetta would get the chance to be a big sister.
So that the twins would be well out of his reach.
“Rafael…”
Ramirez fell against the wall and shook his head.
“You think I would put my faith in you abogados again?”
Shit! It hadn’t worked. And now he had doomed Natalia to a life where was forever tied to this creature. His legs felt as if they would give out from under him.
“Maybe… maybe you didn’t hear—”
“Claro como el cristal,” Ramirez said. “You’re all the same. Ward thinks I’m back in the palm of his hand. So I came home but…”
Ramirez’s words trailed off, and Rafael looked up in time to see his face cloud over as he held his tongue.
“What did you just say?” the ADA asked.
“I… nothing. Just one more tonto in his pen, right? Me and Carmen and all the rest.”
It should have made enough sense. But Ramirez suddenly seemed nervous.
And Rafael pounced.
“How did you know about the babies?” he asked.
“Babies!” Ramirez echoed, his eyes wide. “You’re still running second to me!”
“That wasn’t the question. It would have been wiser… why take the risk of returning?”
He had him speechless and just curled his hands around his throat when Liv and Fin burst into the room and tried to pull him away.
“We’ll take it from here, Barba,” Fin said, but Rafael held fast for another second, two, only releasing Ramirez when he gasped for air.
“This fuck is crazy!” Ramirez cried, his hands on his throat. “I want him charged with assault.”
“Like my wife?” Rafael challenged.
“Thought… thought we were negotiating?” Ramirez asked from the floor, sputtering.
“No hago tratos con escoria.”
His mind was running a million miles a minute as he left the interrogation room and ran right into—
“Rollins!”
“Barba, what the hell were you thinking?”
“Who ran the test?” he asked quickly.
“Who… some tech. She’s worked on cases with us before.”
“And she didn’t ask any questions?”
“She… no. I told her to keep it quiet.”
“Ever wonder why she did that? Why she said nothing when you just showed up off the record?”
“I…”
He watched her eyes flicker and her head nod as they started to leave the squad room.
“Hey! What’s up?”
“I’ll tell you tomorrow, Sonny,” Rollins said.
“It is tomorrow,” he said, glancing at his watch.
“Then let’s hope it’s on our side.”
They raced back to the hospital, and Rollins promised to learn Ward’s new room number. Letting her go, Rafael calmed his breath and found his way to his wife’s door.
“Natalia?”
She was asleep. Thankful for that much, he minded the one palm clutched in Alessia’s grasp and found her free fingers, holding them fast, leaning forward to kiss her slumbering brow.
“Rafael?” Alessia asked. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know yet,” he muttered, smoothing Natalia’s hair from her face and kissing her once more.
“But I’m going to find out.”
Translations
Eso fue un asunto personal- That was personal business
Niñera- Nanny
Esposa- wife
Problemas en el paraiso- Trouble in paradise
La verdad duele- The truth hurts
Un hombre que perdona- A man who forgives
Interesante- Interesting
Policia- Police
Abogados- Lawyers
Claro como el cristal- Clear as crystal
Tonto- Idiot
No hago tratos con escoria- I don’t make deals with human waste
#raul esparza#rafael barba#natalia barba#nevada ramirez#olivia benson#amanda rollins#fin tutuola#dominick sonny carisi#a hard lesson series#a hard lesson in valiance#law and order svu#svu fanfiction
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~♥ PRIVACY PLEASE ♥~
[It’s felt like a really long weekend, and that was probably because most of it was spent with Jordan, unfortunately. There had been a short few hours where she had managed to have a moment away, but he was pretty adamant about making sure that they were spending time together. She was lucky that they were never truly alone again, though, because she was pretty sure she would’ve had to end up making more excuses for why she didn’t want to do certain things.
On that note, Saturday afternoon, when she was asked about that by Carmen, and she had to say that she didn’t go through with it-- yikes. Because there was a bit of a mumbling of some Spanglish of some sort, and then a long sigh from the other side of the phone. ‘You know, when I mentioned ‘love’, I was just joking. I didn’t think it was true’, she had been told, along with something about how she should probably learn how to hide that really well, because she wasn’t always going to be able to fool Jordan if she kept it up.
Yeah. As if she didn’t already know that. Well, at least she had the fact that he thought she could do no wrong on her side. That, and... well, Maddox appeared to have taken himself out of the equation, so how hard could it be now, really?
Well, let’s see how hard with Stove approaching you right now, Lucy Warner. Because here he is come to talk to you.]
-- What?
I’ve come to relay a message.
Sage can’t talk to me on her own anymore, can she?
It’s not from Sage.
... Then who?
Take a guess. It’s not a long-shot.
What does he want?
To talk to you.
And he had to send a messenger? Usually he just drags me into a closet, or something.
I think he might have been trying to keep his still-healing face intact, so he sent me ahead.
He thinks I’d slap him?
I think he knows there would be a strong possibility, given the history of you two. I also think he believes that’s what he deserves.
-- Really? Why?
That’s for him to say. Not me.
You think I’m gonna go talk to him just because he sent you to ask me?
No. I’m just working off hope here. Because, I think you probably should hear him out. You might be surprised by what he has to say if you listen to him.
Did you tell him he should talk to me?
Yeah, Lucy, I did. If there’s one thing you really should know, it’s that sometimes Maddox kinda grasps what’s right, and he just needs some guidance to get the rest of the way there. But the fact that he does it at all--.
-- means that he knows it’s the right thing to do. I know.
So, you know that much about him. Just let him talk to you. You can make your decisions after you’ve listened.
Fine...
Thank you. After next period. Some classroom. He said you’d know the place, apparently.
Yeah, I know it.
Kay, cool. I’ll see ya then.
Mm, bye.
[Stove starts to walk off, but he turns back around to her real quick.] For what it’s worth, Lucy... I think you make him want to be a better person. So-- let him try. For once.
I’ll-I’ll try.
Okay... Bye.
[So now he’s gone, and timE JUmP.]
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
[AND NOW THE TIME HAS COME. Lucy’s standing at the Mucy Classroom door, because, SIGH, WHAT IF THIS TURNS INTO ANOTHER FIGHT? And what does he even have to say to her, really? Oh, boy. It was just all too nerve-wracking. But, my dude, she can’t stand here forever, so she opens the door, and hi, there’s a Maddox.]
Oh. You... You came.
Why wouldn’t I’ve?
One or two reasons, probably.
You wanted to talk. I’m not gonna just-- ignore that.
Yeah... you’re a good person like that.
... What’d you want to talk about?
Us... Well, more just me, I guess. But--. [He pauses and sighs.] Look, first lemme just-- [and goes back behind an old desk that was still in the room, and when he pops back up, he’s holding something behind his back. He takes a few steps to where he’s now in front of Lucy.] -- give you this. [And from behind his back, what he pushes towards Lucy is flowers, I kid you not. (That may be or may not be daises, because everything else was either ugly or too simple, but I tried, okay?.)]
F-Flowers? [So, she takes the thing from him.]
Yeah...
You’ve been carrying these around all day?
No, I just got here like half-an-hour ago, and I’ve been in here since.
You-- got me... why?
Mostly because I’m a big asshole.
But-- you didn’t have to...
Yes, I did.
You did--
Would you just let me apologize, please?? [Lucy nods once.] Look... You’re right. After everything, the last thing you have to do is justify yourself to me. Because-- you’re not my girlfriend. What you do isn’t my business. And I... shouldn’t’ve said what I did. You’re not like that. Not even a little. So, I’m- I’m sorry. This is me taking back all of that bullshit. All of it.
O-Okay... I forgive--.
Also, [There appears to be a gulp there.] I... I’m... [A sigh.] Surely you have to understand why I got pissed off. Like, surely??
No, Maddox. I don’t get it. Not fully, I don’t think.
Luce, oh my God. [A hand down the face.] You’re telling me you can’t see how stupidly jealous I am? Really???
I figured that would be over since we had sex again.
You think that’s all this is about?
Is it not?
Fuck me. [An eye roll.]
I can’t read your mind, Maddox.
It’s about you, yes. But it’s not about sex, for fuck’s sake. It’s that, if it were up to me, if I had my way, we would be together. Me and you. Lucy Warner and Maddox Bravo. Boyfriend and girlfriend. I know I say a lot of stupid shit, but I thought I was being transparent as hell. Jesus.
[Would you believe Lucy’s actually shocked to hear this come out of his mouth? Because she is.] You... You want--.
To be with you. Yes. But it’s not ever gonna happen because of fucking Harper, and your fucking parents. But all that shit doesn’t stop me from wanting it.
[Lucy doesn’t say anything, because, yes, for the most part, she thought that to be true. But, like him, that didn’t stop her from wanting it too. So, instead of speaking, the flowers are abandoned to the desk. here we go.]
[Oh, but buddy here pulls back.] Lucy, don’t do that to me.
I want it too. I want to be with you.
But Harper--
Isn’t you. And maybe-- things can’t be exactly the way we want them to be, but... Maddox, I’m already yours. I have been.
I guess I gotta take what I can get, don’t I?
You don’t have to, no.
-- Honestly, I’d rather have you in classrooms and cars only than not at all.
Yeah?
Yeah.
Then you have me.
[And now it’s his turn to not say anything, because here we go.]
[And I imagine they’ve both ascended to cloud nine here. A state of bliss, you could say. Nothing can touch them except a school bell that startles Lucy into jumping and pulling back. There is a giggle.] What am I supposed to do with the flowers?
Toss ‘em for all I care.
I can’t do that. I’ll just... leave them here and get them later.
And explain them how?
You shoulda thought of that before you got me flowers~.
Oh, well.
[But no, it really is class time, so--] I’ll see you later?
‘Course.
[Oops. Went there.]
Bye~.
[AND FIN. I GOTTA GO CRY NOW.]
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Radiation Poisoning | Chapter Nine
by @starman-john-tracy and @asteria-star
In which John Tracy gets exposed to uranium and nearly dies, The Hood is evil, and Star generally freaks out a lot.
Chapters: [One] [Two] [Three] [Four] [Five] [Six] [Seven] [Eight] [Ten]
Situated as it is, in the centre of the villa, underground, the Medical room has no windows, and so it’s hard to tell what time it is without sunlight streaming through them. There’s no morning opening of blinds on Thunderbird Five either though, so it’s not dissimilar in any way, to look at the chronometer on the bedside table to work out if it’s still too early or not. Star blinks awake with the sinking annoyance of realising she’s in the medical room, but it feels like a more normal time than when she’d last opened her eyes. She feels wrung out and shaky and sore but not nearly as badly as other times she has woken up in this bed.
John. She lolls her head to the side, looking for the astronaut.
The shift has changed again, and it’s Virgil, not Grandma who waves at Star across the room. She grimaces; he looks worse than she feels.
“Morning.” Virgil clambers to his feet with a smile and retrieves a big mug of hot cocoa off the counter. “Get that down you, it’ll boost your sugars.”
Star cringes at his choice of words, too, but takes the mug when it’s offered. Someone’s replaced her finger monitor with sticky pads across her chest, and Star can’t actually remember if she was awake for that. She holds up the handful of cords at Virgil with a raised eyebrow.
“You can’t take that off until you’ve had a normal heart rate for twenty-four hours.” He answers.
Star snorts. “Wonderful.”
The curtain’s been removed completely and across the room she can see John, flat on his back, fast asleep, the rise and fall of his chest soft and even. He looks thin and ill.
“He’s been pretty restless all night.” Virgil catches where she’s looking. “I was expecting him to be out like a light with all the healing his body needs to do, but I think he must have been having some rough dreams.”
I can imagine, Star thinks to herself, fiddling with the mug in her hand.
“Tell you what,” she tells Virgil, handing back the mug. “I’ll keep the monitor on, and drink that without mentioning coffee, if you let me sit in the chair.”
Virgil frowns at her like she drives a hard bargain, but she ends up at the head of John’s bed anyway, cords trailing behind her and still very firmly stuck to her skin. She gives John's hand a squeeze, then slumps back in the chair with her feet up on his bed, taking back the cup and taking a sip. She seems more human today, less an expression of panic.
“Sorry about all the chaos yesterday… I did genuinely think I’d sleep it off,” Star gives him a wry apology. “How is he? Aside from the sleep?”
There's a tired, rolling shrug of the man's shoulders, dismissing her apology and indicating his uncertainty all at once.
"Not in a good way." He admits, "But he's stable and responding about as well as expected to immunotherapy but, well... his test results came back indicating the cells in his marrow are affected." Virgil sighs like the weight of the world is trapped in his lungs. "He's gonna need a transplant. I'm testing the boys at eleven."
“Star, I… look," there's no easy way to tell her this, "with the strength of radiation John’s been exposed to, fifty percent of patients who receive care… they die anyway.” Virgil's trying to be clinical and professional, but he can’t keep the low, awful fear from his voice. His body language is nothing but worry, all tense and strung out and shaky. “We can’t… We’ve got to be realistic Star. Prepare ourselves for the worst, even if we don't want to. I don’t know if you realise it, but… He’s very ill. I… I'm gonna do all I can though." His fingers bunch into fists. "I'm not giving up on our John just yet."
Star watches John while Virgil speaks, a blank expression on her face, nodding along thoughtfully. By the time the dark haired Tracy is finished, though, she’s looking at him sadly. “It’s not all on you, Virgil. None of us are giving up on him. You look like shit, by the way.”
There's a rough laugh from Virgil.
"We should get you a mirror." He gives her a wobbly grin, "I could do with some breakfast." There's a slap of his plans against his knees as he decides to stop stewing in it and to be proactive. "Do you mind watching John if I pop upstairs to grab something? I can get you something too, if you want, you're probably hungry. Ah… No caffeine for you though, not for the next twenty-four hours. Sorry." With the heart palpitations she was having, that's probably wise.
John, the sneaky idiot, keeps his eyes closed in a feint of sleep until Virgil leaves, listening guiltily as his brother vents his worries to Star. He waits until Virgil's gone on his breakfast hunt to crack one eye open, and -
“I know you’re awake,” Star tells him before the eye is even open. He peers up at her, wondering if she’d seen him move, but her blue eyes are still watching the door Virgil had just disappeared out of.
Sprung. John open’s both his eyes with an amused sigh. Star’s gaze creaks around to him, one eyebrow raised.
“Ah, should have known you’d see right through me.” He’s got a faint, tired smile all ready for her. “Are you alright?” he asks.
Star almost laughs at him.
“Am I alright?” There’s a shake of her head, dark hair shaggy and falling out of the plait it had previously been tamed in. “John you… you heard all that right? You’re…” She trails off, not wanting to put the word dying into the fragile air between them. A pale, skeletal hand raises toward her, in a silent plea for her to take it. She sighs, taking her feet off the bed and propping herself on her knees to reach over and hold his hand, intertwining his cold fingers with her own.
“I know.” John says, ever so softly as she does. “It’s ok.”
And there are droplets on her cheeks and why’s she the one crying when he can’t even find the strength to get his head off the pillow. She scrubs at them, furious with herself.
“I’m sorry.” It comes out as more of a sob than an apology. “I’m s-so s-sorry.”
Thin, cadaverous arms curl around her back and gently encourage her down into a hug, still half in her chair, a tangle of cords between them.
“It’s ok.” John’s voice is sick-weary and soft, but somehow still so warm and comforting. “It’s going to be ok, Carmen. I promise.”
“How can you promise that.” She beats a fist weakly against his chest, next to where her face is buried, the top of her head tucked neatly under his chin. “How can you possibly.” Another sob.
Shaky fingers tangle themselves in her hair, and John makes a rough shh-ing kind of sound, like he’s cradling a baby brother, not his resident criminal. She can feel his heart beating, fluttery, under her cheek. A cold mouth presses hard against the top of her head. “Shh,” He whispers into her hair, “It’s all going to work out ok.”
"I’m so sorry. I left you in there…" She begins, shaky, but John, it seems, is having none of it.
“It’s not your fault.” He tells her, gentle and even as ever, and Star can’t help but snort.
“There is absolutely no way in hell you actually believe that,” She pulls back so they’re eye to eye, subconsciously putting distance between the two of them, her lip twisted in a self-depreciating snarl. “I left you. That is the definition of my fault.”
John tries to smile at her, but she isn’t entirely convinced it isn’t the saddest expression of all time.
“Do you remember right back in the beginning, when we first met, and I ran re-entry?”
Star’s willing to play along. “You do that a lot.”
It’s John’s turn to chuckle, winding down into a grimace. “I had your file, Virgil had noted to be careful of the scar from your stab wound, that you weren’t fully healed. I still ran the re-entry, I still tore your stomach open, you still almost died.”
“That wasn’t your fault,” Star chewed on her lip. “You couldn’t have known that was going to happen.”
“And you couldn’t have known this would. In fact,” John tries for humour, “I’d say that was more my fault than this is yours. I had specific instructions not to do what I did.”
Star doesn’t seem to find it funny.
“Point is,” A thin hand reaches out to curl around hers, “You need to stop blaming yourself for things out of your control. You did everything textbook, you got me home safe. The only blame for this whole situation should land squarely on the shoulders of The Hood.” There’s a crack in his voice, like he’s stumbling over the name. "A-alright?"
The stagger in his words isn’t exactly subtle. Star rests her free hand against the side of his face, fingertips in ginger hair and her thumb tracing the constellation of freckles across his cheekbone. Pale lashes flutter shut in response, a breathy, slightly wheezy sigh escaping his chapped lips. Star scoots her chair closer to the bed, unhooking a monitor lead from where it had been looped under her knee. Without windows or outside air, with the mechanical hum of air conditioning rattling away in the roof above their heads, it’s almost like being back on Thunderbird Five, where its just them and their time, where the rules of the outside world don’t apply, and they can just exist with the stars John loves so much. With a sharp pang in her chest, Star wonders if he’s ever going to see them again.
They sit like that for a long while, Star watching John’s lax face, almost convinced he could be dozing until his brows twitch together in pain, then smooth, then together again.
“Talk to me,” Star says softly, and it’s almost a plea. “Please? Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I…” There’s a moment of deliberation in John, opening his eyes again to stare at the ceiling above them. “Sorry. I mean… I’m kind of, uh… honestly I think I’m… scared.” It seems to take an awful lot to voice that, unsurprisingly, as John Tracy is a man whose hardly afraid of anything. The island’s spiders? Whatever. Trip into orbit? No problem. Throw yourself into the endless unforgiving void of space with limited resources, time and a whole bunch of people to save? The Tracy’s call that Tuesday.
“I keep thinking about, you know,” Fingers on his neck, atmosphere leaking out, radiation leaking in, that man’s sick smile as it happened, “but I mean, I’ve got this, like uncertainty too,” He takes a breath like, talking is hard - but it’s not the illness that’s incapacitating him. “Of what’s gonna happen next, you know?” He’s afraid. Of the meds, of the procedures. He’s afraid he might die, “I mean, I’m sick of being so tired already,” He chuckles, warm and loose as he squishes his arms around her. “Sounds like I’m just going to have to get used to that though.”
“Yeah…” Star sighs, as if she somehow can read his mind; as if she can see all the big things hiding between the few words he gives her. “You’re allowed to be scared. It’s… understandable. You just also need to know no one’s going anywhere, okay? Whatever… whatever ends up happening, we’re all going to be here. You’re not going to be alone, and no one is going to-” hurt you, she almost says, but that would be a lie. This whole mess is going to hurt him, and there’s nothing she can do about it. “The Hood isn’t going to get anywhere near you ever again, if he does I’ll break both his arms,” John lets an unconscious laugh slip at that, pitched a little too high to be much more than covering his anxiety, “and we’ll get Brains to figure out some kind of release system on the helmets on the spacesuits, so they can’t be taken off by just anyone," John shivers visibly, "and every time you so much as get a bandage changed I will be here, holding your hand or sitting in the corner being annoying if you say you want to be alone because we both know you’re lying when you say that. This isn’t going to be something that just fizzles out, okay? You’re John Tracy, you’re not an astronaut or a Thunderbird, you’re a miracle worker. Everything you ever have done has been a miracle, and everything you ever will do is a miracle, even if that's-” holding on for as long you can.
She can’t bring herself to finish the sentence, throat thick and her pulse thudding in her chest, too fast and too hard and all for him, as if maybe she can share some of that life with him, to make him better.
But the world doesn’t work like that.
“And…” His voice is very small, “And what if I can’t give you a miracle, you know, this time…?" It seems almost impossible, insurmountable, "What if...” He trails off.
If, he thinks, the worst that Virgil seems to fear comes to pass. John’s heart hurts at the thought there’ll be no more gentle walks along the beach, no more birthdays with his brothers at the planetarium, no more late nights on the roof with Alan or races in the pool with Gordon. No more Thunderbird Five and space monitor duty with Star. John’s got a strong suspicion that his life from here on in is four walls and pain medication until he either beats the destruction of his own cells or dies and that’s… that’s a pretty grim thought. He doesn’t think he can bear to dwell on what might happen after he’s gone either. Would Star take on Five? Would Eos run her? Would his brothers be able to cope without him? Would…?
He makes a small, upset noise, deep in his throat and presses his cheek into his pillow, trying to shut down the line of thought before it overwhelms him completely.
“Then we’ll deal with that, too.”
Star takes one look at the monitor she’s still attached to, murmurs fuck Virgil, and tugs the leads roughly from her chest. John watches her, some inkling of what she’s about to do already springing to his mind from all the times she’d done some variation of this before. Forever tolerant, he lets her.
“Don’t move, I’ve got it,” she tells him, even as the world sways around her and her knees waver, nearly tipping her on her ass as she climbs over the railing and into his bed. Being more careful than she ever has in her life, she plasters herself beside him, a little higher up so that he can rest his head back on her shoulder, against her jaw, planting her lips against his hair. She brings one hand up to brush through his hair, the other taking back the hand she’d had to drop for her little show of acrobatics.
“You know that I love you, don’t you John?” She murmurs after a long while, then continues with “If Virgil kills me for any of this, I’m blaming you.”
“I…. yeah.” He’s too tired to reach up and find the fingers that are carding so affectionately through his hair. The soft motion is rapidly sending him toward sleep. He's quiet and pliant for a long moment. There’s not many people in the world who John would trust to watch over him like this, to card their fingers through his hair, press against his skin, to hold his hand in comfort. The total number is sharply limited to people on this island, and that's both a bit sad and quite lovely, to be trusted.
"I think you’re pretty great too.” There’s a ghost of a smile on his lips. “You can tell Virgil it was my idea if you want." John advises her, loosely. “He’s soft on me at the moment.” And rightfully so. His head tips in toward her and his cheekbones are hard ridges tucked in the column of her throat. His face feels hot, like his temperature has spiked again. His own blood cells are burning him from the inside out though, so it’s probably to be expected.
“Favouritism,” Star accuses him, breaking off into a hum when his face is pressed into her throat.
"Mmm," He makes a small, tired noise, settling in against her, with little inclination to move again, "you caught me."
She keeps up the steady rhythm through his hair, feeling him relax in increments, his breathing easing out to something a little more mechanical as sleep teases him. His skin is hot against hers, but he doesn’t seem any more distressed than previously.
They must have slept late, Star realises as her eyes drift back up to the clock. It’s about 10:45, Virgil will be back soon to prep his brothers for what is likely to be one of the more uncomfortable mornings of their lives.
There’s a little time, at least, to coax John back into a quiet doze, the spaceman warm and languid as a lazy ginger tomcat in her arms. The sleep is an improvement on earlier, thanks to the little chat they’d had, but it’s not completely undisturbed, as pain crinkles his brow and makes him wiggly, all uncomfortable and snuffly, in his sleep.
When Virgil walks in, freshly scrubbed from a good hot shower, to find the both of them in the same bed with John’s arm slung across Star’s stomach and her legs tangled all around his. There are a lot of leads detached but, with them like this, he can’t bring himself to do much more than roll his eyes at the pair. He creeps quietly toward them, giving Star a little wave when he finds her awake, but staying silent in the hopes that John will continue his rest. He holds up a bowl of short, soft pasta tubes, all browned yellow with cheese and steaming, and grins as he hands it over, the fork so deeply embedded that she has to twist the cheesy goodness all around to yank it out.
He does pick up her leads with a pointed, disapproving frown though, waving them at her as if to say really? Again? She doesn’t seem much worse off for not being all hooked up though, with much more colour in her face than when he’d left them, so Virgil concedes and gently peels the sticky pads from her skin, trying to be careful not to disturb John as he does so, who's got his head tucked neatly into the crook of her elbow and his back pressed along the length of her chest.
Better? He mouths at her, then, quietly: “The boys’ll be here soon, starting with Scott. You gonna be ok with that?”
Star sets the hot bowl to the side, gesturing Virgil closer with the twitch of her finger. He looks confused, but complies anyway. Once he’s in arms reach, she takes his chin between her thumb and pointer, twisting his head this way and that to compare the side of his jaw that Scott’s elbow had connected with. After a moment of scrutiny, she’s satisfied, and lets him go.
“I’m okay with that. I’m a very civil, well-behaved person… haven’t you heard?”
Virgil snorts.
He checks John’s monitors, pottering about, disconnecting some leads and replacing the blood bag with a fresh one for transfusion. He tops up his vast array of medications, carefully filling and injecting a number of needles and trying not to wake John while they deliver their payload. Tired to the bone, the astronaut sleeps on, even as Virgil pressed a little cotton pad down hard to the injection site.
“Hey, sit up while you eat.” He squints at her, privately thinking it might give Scott one less point of contention if they’re not all tangled together by the time he gets here.
Star looks like she’s about to tell Virgil where he can stick that idea when John shuffles in his sleep, muffling a low moan in Star's arm. She shushes him softly and doesn’t move. Her hearts started up an unsteady little jig in her chest at the thought of the samples, the boys having them and the results that might come from it. Any appetite she might have had evaporates, and she hands her food back to Virgil.
He looks despairingly at her, but takes it before shaky fingers drop it all over John.
“You’re not hungry?” He worries, “You’re as bad as he is.” He nods at John, though he needn't have, as they both know he’s had nothing but IV fluids since he got down. “I’ll leave it here in case you change your mind.” He sets the bowl ever so carefully on the little side table, next to where someone seems to have decided to leave John a holoprojector that’s displaying a miniature, spinning version of the globe he loves so much, pinpointed with little GDF logos, evidently to assure him the world isn’t falling into catastrophe while IR is on minimal duty. “It’s important to have a good meal to keep your energy up…” Virgil goes on, “Though I could make you some of John’s plain oatmeal later, if you’d rather. He gets through cupboards of the stuff after touchdown,” There’s a wry grin, “so maybe that’ll be easier on your stomach too.”
“Are you getting tested as well?” she asks, probably to distract him from trying to get her to eat the mac and cheese. Then; “You gonna be okay?”
There’s a lilting, rolling shrug of Virgil’s shoulders.
“Let’s just hope Scott’s a match.” His smile doesn’t meet his eyes. “I really don’t want to have to test Gordon and Alan too.”
Star’s heart sinks at the thought of the youngest two having to go through that, even though it’s for John’s benefit.
A short, sharp knock on the medical room door leaves them no more time to chat, Scott Tracy poking his head around the door jamb to check if John’s sleeping or not.
He’s not prepared, at all, for the sight of Star all tangled round his brother.
Star, for all the antagonism in her blood, has never hated Scott. Not before the incident yesterday and, despite some residual pettiness, not after it. In all honesty, she gets it, she really does. The problem is just the overlap in who they’re willing to come out swinging for, and their different perspectives on keeping those people safe.
And besides, She’s not about to start World War Three with John's brother.
“Good morning…” she says. She even tries to smile at him.
The one thing she doesn’t do, is let go of John even a little.
Evidently Scott’s still feeling sheepish about yesterday, as he sets his jaw at the sight and gives her a curt nod, striding long-legged across the room to plonk himself down on the bed that Star had escaped been occupying earlier. His eyes are hard with mistrust, but, to do him credit, he doesn’t vocalise any of it.
“Thanks for this Scott.” Virgil’s ever so warm toward his brother, despite the fact that, if it’s to help John, there’s really no other option to any of them. “Can you lie on your side for me? I’m gonna try and make this as quick as possible.”
Scott pauses, just for a moment, his eyes flicking up to where Star is curled around his brother. It’s enough of a hesitation that it’s clear that he doesn’t want her watching him when he’s vulnerable. Virgil rolls his eyes theatrically, and gives Star a little wave as he pulls the curtain back across with a shing of metal curtain rings along the rail.
“You didn’t have to…” Scott goes to protest, blustering in what he obviously thinks is a manly kind of show of things. “Don’t you need to keep an eye on John?”
“John’s being taken care of.” Virgil points out, very soft and with a tone that brokers no disagreement, “Don’t be such a baby.” Star hears a light slap of a hand against a shoulder and Scott grumbles something unintelligible under his breath. “Yeah, will do.” Virgil is shuffling about over there, “Roll of your side for me, yeah that’s it. Take a deep breath and let it all out at once. Relax as much as you can. Good. Now, how high can you tuck your knees up? Alright, that’s it, you’re going to feel a kind of pressure and maybe a slight burn… tell me about the maintenance you were doing on One?”
“The maintenance on…? Ah.” The needle has obviously slid home. “Urgh, what do you want to know about One for?”
To distract him, clearly, but Scott doesn’t seem to catch onto that.
“Well we’re both stuck here for the next few minutes,” Virgil offers as a deceptive explanation, “might as well make the most of it and catch me up.”
There’s a few more minutes of soft banter between the boys and chatter about the upgrades Scott’s been installing in One’s cockpit during his downtime (because, really, there’s no better stress relief for any of these boys than their toys), before Virgil is capping up the sample and cracking a heat pad for Scott to hold to his sore back, over his hip.
“Thanks Scotty.” Virgil clasps his arm and gives it a grateful squeeze. “Let’s hope it’s a match so that I don’t have to call Gordon down.”
“Fingers crossed.”
He strides from the room far less gracefully than he entered it, and Virgil wanders round the curtain to grab a testing kit from one of the well stocked metal cupboards. It’s only five minutes before they learn Scott isn’t a match. Virgil sounds awfully apologetic as he gives Gordon a call over the Comms, who, to his credit, bounds down quite readily, injecting a little bit of sunshine into the room even as a numbing agent is injected into his back so the procedure can start. He gets a heat pack and a hair ruffle for his pain and is sent on his way so that Virgil can repeat the testing process. He seems to get a little more tense with each brother he goes through, and when Gordon doesn’t prove to be a match for John either, Virgil’s jaw locks tight.
“Sorry Allie.” Reluctantly, Virgil puts in the call, “I’m gonna need you down in the medical room as well.”
And so Alan completes the steady trickle of Tracy’s being tested. He is, by far, the worst to have to put through the process. He makes an awful little gasping whimper as the needle slides in, that, thank god John wasn’t awake to hear because he’d have been jumping out of bed to be by the kid’s side if he had. Virgil murmurs a soft litany of reassurances and apologies the whole time, running his fingers soothingly through the duckling down fluff atop his baby brother’s head.
When Alan’s results come back negative too, Virgil looks totally distraught - and not just because now he has to go through the procedure too.
“Brains,” The third Comm call clicks through, “I need you down in the medical room, if you’re free. We’re… we’re gonna have to test my marrow too.” He looks kind of green about that. There’s gonna be a whole tribe of Tracy’s with sore backs now.
Star can hear the dejection in Virgil’s voice as he speaks into the comm, and her blood runs cold. Virgil is the last biopsy before they have a real problem. He’s fidgeting at the end of John’s bed, alternating between glances at his brother and the door Brains will be appearing through.
“Virgil…?” Star tries to ask, but he fixes her with a tight smile and disappears back behind the curtain. That doesn’t bode well. Virgil looks far more anxious than his brothers had, even Alan, but then again… Star has seen security footage of him getting shots (the terrible two had been out for embarrassing revenge, long story).
Brains comes into the medical bay without knocking, and is even more sheepish than Scott, refusing to even look at Star where she lounges in a sliver of space on John’s bed. The astronaut is still dozing, and mostly shuffled off Star. She can hear the rustling of Virgil getting ready for the biggest needle of his life, and Star makes a decision.
“A-Alright Virgil?” Brains is ever so kind about the whole thing as he snaps on latex gloves and sterilises the area on his back in preparation. “Y-you ready?”
Virgil eyes the long, thick needle with surprising trepidation. He wouldn’t call it a phobia as such, the way the sight of them makes the fine hairs on the back of his neck prickle. He can use them just fine and his hands never shake when sliding them into someone else’s veins, but when one is pointed at him, that’s when the issues start.
“Let’s just get this over with, Brains.” He’s bowstring tense even though he knows that only makes it hurt worse.
Before Brains can actually start though, the curtain flickers and Stars head peaks around the corner.
“Hello,” she steps into the little corner, holding her arms out in front of her as if she is presenting them, then promptly stumbles over her own feet. “I’m here to donate my hands for holding, or even crushing, if you need it.”
She pulls the curtain back at the head of the bed, so they can keep an eye on Johns sleeping, but Virgil is still afforded him privacy. There’s a chair by the bed, and Star drags it over to sit, cross-legged, in.
“Come on, big guy,” she offers Virgil her hands, smiling as he takes them with no hesitation. “You got this.”
Determined to lead by example, because what kind of medic is he if he can’t put himself on the receiving end? Virgil sets his jaw and takes a deep breath, squeezing Star’s hands hard as Brains gets to work.
“Geez,” He lets out the breath he’d forgotten he was holding all at once, “Ouch.” He’s downright miserable that he put all four of his brothers through this already. He should have just sucked it up and got Brains to test him first. What kind of Thunderbird is he anyway? He squeezes his eyes shut and grips Star’s hands and just tries to breathe through the whole thing. His face has gone sheet white. It seems like it’s forever until Brains is sliding the needle from his skin (and thank god the man’s hands don’t tremble like his voice does) and applying pressure to the little puncture wound. Star would pet his face or arms like she did with John, only Virgil’s white knuckled grip has taken both her hands hostage, and he is not letting go.
“C-Can I get you a h-ho-heat pack, V-Virgil?” Comes the tentative offer and it’s all Virgil can do to nod, tensely, his voice apparently having gone completely missing. A band aid is applied, followed closely but the sweet, blessed heat of the snapped pack, which leeches its heat out into the sore, aching muscle of his back.
“Better, thanks.” Virgil’s voice sounds dry. “I should probably get up and test that.” He goes to move and it’s pressed back down with surprising strength (or is it him who feels weak?) by Brains’ gloved hands.
“S-Stay there just a moment.” The engineer advises, wisely, “Y-You’re going to p-pass out if you g-get up too quick.”
“You heard the boss,” Star reaches over Virgil to hold the heat pack in place, releasing Brains to clean up. She glances briefly over her shoulder to make sure she can still see John sleeping, before looking down to give Virgil a smile. “I remember you saying something about fifteen minutes to John.”
“Ugh…” Is about all he can say to that, because it’s a very good point. “...Alright.”
Brains takes that as the cue to make himself scarce, murmuring an apology and some explanation about something he’s working on down in his lab, and disappearing out the door.
To say Virgil doesn’t look happy about what had just happened is the understatement of the century, and he’s still gripping Star’s hand tight enough like he really, truly believes he can solve all of his problems if he manages to break her fingers. He looks sad, especially now that he’s stopped moving and ordering tests and fussing about everyone else. Her heart sinks, especially thinking about his response when she’d hugged him the night before, and she can’t help but wonder how much sleep he’d actually gotten while holed up in his room.
“Can you, like, take a deep breath and relax a little?” Star asks of him with a rueful smile. She doesn’t say anything about her hand.
Virgil doesn’t last the full fifteen minutes before he’s too restless to lie there another minute, and Star concedes trying to force him down will cause more harm than good. She keeps a hand on his bicep, helping him upright, and leaves it there as he sways slightly at the edge of the bed. The paper white sheen to his face turns a clammy grey when he’s upright, eyes squeezing shut, but he manages to stay conscious.
“You alright there?” Star questions, leaning back a little to give him a once-over the way someone might look at what they are sure is a shoddily balanced card tower. “Are you sure you should be running this test right now, or should you be resting?”
“I can’t wait any longer.” He breathes out hard through his nose trying to bring enough oxygen up to his brain to stop him from completely passing out. “I’ve got to know if I’m a match for John or…” Virgil shakes his head, cutting himself off, “I’ve got to be a match.”
“You’re not gonna be able to find out if you can't even see straight.” Star clicks her tongue at him, but he seems nonplussed.
“I can do it.” He shrugs her off, a little more coldly than she’s come to expect of him. He must be really stressed about this, and for good reason.
There’s five or so minutes of Virgil, clipping the tube into place in the analyser and extracting plasma and running a whole spectrum of tests, before a tinkle of breaking glass cuts suddenly across the silence.
Virgil seems to have dropped the vial into the metal sink and it had shattered.
He crashes into a plastic chair, looking suspiciously close to tears.
Oh. It wasn’t an accident.
“I don’t match.” His voice comes out hoarse and disbelieving, “John needs a marrow transplant and none of us are matches. How are none of us matches!?!”
#thunderbirds are go#John Tracy#<33333333333333333#RadiationRPwithStar#pOOR JOHNNO HUH#tw: injury#hurt/comfort#probably good tags to slap on this hehe
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